Chapter 42 - Chapter 31: Goodbye to Children of Winter

Dragons' Rest 305/306 AC.

Dany.

It had taken time for Baelon to come back to her. For her husband to be the man he was and not the shadow he'd been after Arya's death. Though he was more himself with her and Rickon or with Wylla than he was with anyone else, Baelon had still not been his true self with any of them for the longest time. He'd been a king, a husband, and her lover, but he was not her partner, her soul mate, until then once again he was.

Little things had been how it had started. Organizing the now-renamed Kingsguard. Firstly, Baelon took charge of that and named a man of the Free Folk, Dothraki, and Unsullied to join Ser Donnel and Jorah in wearing the white cloak. Dany had felt it then, the fact he not only wished for the order to be reformed but reforged had shown it to her. As had the actions taken by Lady Olenna and how much they'd meant to Baelon when she did so.

A year ago.

"You're sure of this, your grace?" Jorah asked as Baelon told him about Ser Donnel being the first and who it was he wished to be the next member of their Dragonguard.

"He seems like a good man, Jorah. And as sterling a job as you do, you are but a man alone."

"And the others, your grace?"

"Qhono recommended his son before I could truly ask him. Sarel is Nessa's boy and not only is he fierce with those axes of his, but I doubt not a man of the Free Folk and certainly not her son. As for Black Ant, he comes with Grey Worm's own recommendation. I know my wife needs no more than that and nor do I."

"Nor me, your grace," Jorah said.

They had just begun talking of the other two when their Hand asked to see them. Olenna then walked into the room a few moments later. Seeing her as she now was, was at times discomfiting. Not that Dany or Baelon begrudged her the extra years or vigor that Melisandre's gift had brought her. Simply that both of them had somewhat welcomed seeing the wizened old face she bore previously. Now, she looked no older than Wylla and Dany wondered how the woman's granddaughter coped with it at times.

"Lady Hand," Dany said by way of greeting.

"Olenna," Baelon said, which almost made Dany giggle as she remembered just how formal he used to be when dealing with a lord or lady. Though he had always called Davos by his name and did so now to only those he truly cared for or respected.

"I hear you wish to name an Unsullied, a Dothraki, and a man of the Free Folk to the Dragonguard, your grace."

"Aye, I do and am, Olenna. No men served us better in facing the Night King and his army, nor can be more trusted than they."

"I would not disagree, your grace. However…"

"Lady Olenna?" she asked.

"With but two men who are appointed knights serving, there are those who may worry that the order is losing some of its luster and while I care only that you are both protected, I would be remiss not to consider that too. As would you, your grace." Olenna said looking to Baelon "So I would bid you to take Erryk and Arryk into your service for your final two, your grace."

"And who would protect you, Olenna?" Baelon asked worriedly.

"I'm not without guards, your grace and it would comfort me knowing that you were served by men as capable as mine own."

"You owe us not, Olenna," Baelon said softly, the emotion in his voice one that Dany welcomed hearing.

"I disagree, but it would put my mind at ease while silencing any voices that may suggest you trust the men of the realm not."

Baelon looked first at her and then to the ground. Dany could see just how touched he was by the gesture and when he raised his head, he bid her to accept on his behalf. Something she did gratefully.

Now.

Dany chuckled at the memory of what Baelon did afterward. While he accepted Erryk and Arryk and both men were proud to be named to the Dragonguard, he would and had ensured that Olenna never went unprotected. Be it through one of Rickon's many birds, or most often, by having a Dragonguard always at their Lady Hand's back. Baelon simply said that since Olenna often was about their duties, it would be beholding of them to let the realm know so.

Olenna, of course, saw right through it and yet accepted it with good grace. Baelon had lost too much to this cruel world already and so had made it his one true guiding principle to protect as best he could those he had not.

With the Dragonguard settled, it was reconstruction and rebuilding that Baelon put his mind to next. Here too, he began to come more and more into himself. While Dany ruled, Baelon built. She sat on the throne, chaired the Small Council meetings, and dealt with matters of the realm, Baelon stood by her side and dealt with matters of the people. Each family they housed, each child that was born in peace was another small step towards Baelon becoming the man who'd taken her for his wife in the Godswood all those moons ago.

Yet it was a raven from Winterfell and confirmation from his brother that led to the next big step and it was mayhap in celebration of that which led to the final one, or the second to final one. When word had come that Arya Stark rather than going to the gods had instead warged into Nymeria, Dany had not known how to take it. Baelon's joy though was infectious and so while there were questions on the tip of her tongue, they were ones she asked not. Instead, she found that her husband wished to lay with her often, and now rather than the release of some pent-up sad feelings that their coupling brought Baelon, it was an expression of truer feelings once more. Reaching down to her swollen belly, Dany wondered was that why the gods had smiled down upon them.

" Wylla believes I'm with child."

" For true?" Baelon asked as he moved to her.

" She's been watching me closely these past few weeks and when I spoke to her about it, she asked many questions," Dany said remembering just how often she'd caught Wylla looking her way.

" Questions?"

" About womanly things." she said, not wishing to go any further "After we spoke, she told me that she believes it to be so," Dany said nervously.

" And you?"

" I know not, My moon blood hasn't come in three moons, and while it at times has been irregular." Dany said thinking to the time before she came to Westeros "It has not been so for some time."

" Have you… Should we get the Mage to examine you?" Baelon asked as he took her hand and led her to the couch in their chambers, Dany smiling when as he sat, he allowed her not to sit beside him but instead helped her into his lap.

" I worry I may be hoping too much, Baelon. That I may be letting…."

Baelon silenced her with a kiss while his hand moved to her stomach. Dany had felt a slight difference each time she looked at herself in the looking glass, but had put it down to eating better and more regularly. That Baelon hadn't commented upon any changes in her figure she'd put down to him being polite. Now as he touched her stomach, she wished to know if he'd noticed it too and if so why had he spoken of it not.

" Do you… can you feel a difference?" she asked, as Baelon's hands moved over her stomach.

" I fear I cannot. But… and it shames me to say it, I've not noticed more than a few things ever since…"

There was no need to finish the words, Dany knew exactly what it was that Baelon refused to say. He'd told her so more than once over the last few moons and had always said it was minor things or things that were more easily put to one side. His mind worked more on what threats the realm may face or what, if anything, could threaten their reign and their safety. Other things, were for now, less important and so more easily missed.

" I'm sorry, Dany. For not…"

This time it was she who silenced Baelon with a kiss. She truly cared not if he'd missed it, she had too and so instead she only asked him if he noticed it now. The breath hitched in her throat when Baelon told her that he did and so she nodded when he asked once again if the Mage should be sent for. Baelon helped her to their bed and though he didn't lay down beside her, it was only because the Mage was on his way.

When Marwyn arrived, Dany felt more nervous than she had ever felt before. As he examined her, her eyes looked both to his own and to Baelon's. Time then seemed to stand still, as if the world was working against her and denying her what she needed to know. Finally, Marwyn smiled first at her and then at Baelon before speaking.

" You are with child, your grace. Three or four moons along I would wager."

The questions came thick and fast, both she and Baelon asking the Mage numerous ones. Dany spoke of Rhaego and of the witch who took him from her. While Baelon held her hand and asked if she and the babe were healthy. While the answers given were enough to soothe any worries that Baelon had, they were very much not enough to do so with her own. Only once the Mage had left and she and Baelon were alone were those worries too shot down.

" We will be parents, Dany. A babe, a babe that will name you their Muña and me their Kepa." Baelon said, making her smile at the use of their mother tongue "The gods themselves won't deny us this, no one will. You will hold our babe in your arms, Dany. I believe that with all I am."

" I… I do too, Baelon," she said as he moved and lay in the bed beside her.

The knock on the door took her from her thoughts and Missandei entered with a servant carrying the tray of food she'd sent her for. Over the moons of her pregnancy, Dany's appetite had both increased and at times been odd. She'd craved certain foods at the most inopportune times. Though Baelon had simply risen from their bed and saw that they were brought to her. Some mornings she'd wake and find she had no appetite for breaking her fast. Others, she'd do so and then an hour or so later, she'd feel hungry once more. Today it seems was one of those mornings. Bidding the servant to place the food on the table, Dany moved to take her seat and felt the pain rush through her.

"MISSYYYY!" she called out as she felt the wetness run down her legs.

How she didn't collapse, she knew not. The fear that it would be blood she saw when she looked down was almost overpowering. Dany heard not when Missandei called for the Mage and Wylla, nor when her closest friend spoke softly in her ears. It was not until Wylla arrived and began to remove her lower clothing that Dany could even bear to ask the question that she most feared the answer to.

"Is my babe dead?" she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"All is well, your grace. The babe is coming." Wylla said, "The babe is well, you'll be well." Wylla added reassuringly.

"I felt the blood," she said looking at the older woman.

"Not blood, your grace. Water."

It confused her for a moment, then it very much did not. She was giving birth, about to give birth. The babe she wished for with all she was, was about to be born. Though there were many worries and far too many doubts. Dany took comfort from those around her. Missandei, the Mage, and Wylla most of all. For no one was as invested in her and her babe than those. Other than her husband who she now heard as he ran into the room.

"I.."

"Out now, Baelon. This is no place for you to be. Her grace has enough worries without you adding to them." Wylla said firmly as she pushed Baelon away from the bed.

"May I at least have a moment with my wife, Wylla. A moment I swear." Baelon said and was she not in so much pain, Dany would have marveled how Wylla had both gotten Baelon to calm down and even more to comply.

As another shooting pain ran through her, Dany called out and Baelon was then beside her. What words he said, she heard not. Her own to him she knew he'd ignore and yet she spoke them anyway. If it was to be her or their babe, then she begged him to choose their babe. Words came back to her as Baelon left the room. Words he'd spoken to her on his mother and her own. Both had lost their lives in the birthing bed and both she and Baelon had worried because of it. Yet now as the pain grew unbearable, Dany remembered those words.

"I know my mother and your own would not have wished it to be us and not them, Dany. Faced with a choice, I know they'd wish their babes survived. Though I know they would not have wished to make that choice at all. For me there is no choice, I wish you both with me and the gods owe us both as much. They've taken more than either of us should have been forced to give, Dany. It's long past time they paid us what we are owed."

She had passed out, her world had gone dark for a few moments and when it brightened up again, the fear returned in spades. Though it hurt her to do so, Dany rose from where she lay and sat up in the bed. For the briefest moment, she was back in a tent in the Red Waste, then she saw the Mage, Missandei who smiled beamingly at her, and finally Wylla holding a bundle in her hands. A bundle that she carried over to her and placed in Dany's own.

"Your son, your grace. As healthy a babe as any could wish for."

Dany looked to see the soft silver hair and the deep purple eyes of her babe. She took one of his little hands in her own and then felt him grip her finger tightly. Smiling down at her son, she barely heard Baelon come into the room and only felt it when he sat down beside her on the bed.

"Our son, Baelon. Look how perfect he is."

"Aye, just like his mother."

She saw it then when she turned and looked at her husband's smiling face. The man she loved with all her heart was back. The last little piece of himself had clicked back into place and she was most happy to see it. Their babe deserved to know only that Baelon. He deserved to know the best of both of them. No, he deserved the life they'd been denied and Dany knew that she and his father would do all they could to give it to him.

Dragons' Rest/Highgarden 306 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

For the first few moons after she'd been given Melisandre's gift, Olenna half expected to wake of a morning and find it had all been a dream. That she did not look and feel like a woman in her fortieth year. Instead that her mind had failed her and she'd dreamt of things that could never come to pass. Yet, each time she awoke it was to find that things were as they had been when she'd gone to bed. She was as she seemed to be, younger looking and as a result of that, younger feeling than she'd been in many a year.

When Desmera had seen her for the first time, Olenna had thought her granddaughter would run from her. It took some time for Desmera to accept it and then once she had, just like Olenna herself, her granddaughter welcomed the extra years the necklace now offered her. Her granddaughter even offered to give up Highgarden, only for Olenna to make it clear that her place was by their graces' sides and that she wished it not. Her time as the lady who oversaw the Reach was now at an end, her time to help the realm and see it rebuilt was at hand. Besides, as she told her granddaughter later, she would be around to offer advice should it be needed, and yet she believed it would not.

Olenna was as good as her word too. She threw herself into her role as Hand of the King and Queen, and in those early days, she was much needed. Baelon was somewhat lost. Not quite broken by the grief he felt but he was not the young man she remembered either, not then. Over time he came back more and more into himself and he was not idle, he just was not enthused or excited by the things that he needed to do. As for the queen, without Daenerys, the realm may have collapsed in those first few moons. The king certainly would have.

So for more than a year, Olenna worked as hard as she ever had and took great pleasure in doing so. She helped the queen with her counsel and with keeping certain tasks from her door. Helped the king with words of advice and even offered him an ear to listen to him, should he wish her to do so. Her experience with coin and with getting reticent lords to do what they wished not to, proved invaluable and soon enough the city was a city once more. True, the Red Keep was practically no more and it would take time for the Dragon's Lair to be built around the shell of it. While the city had been renamed Dragons' Rest and was now once again the hub of trade in Westeros. Fewer people resided in it and their lives were better for it. Around the realm, for the first time in only the seven knew how long, taxes were paid on time, food deliveries arrived when they were meant to, and aid when asked for was delivered. Still, none of that truly made her as happy as the letter she now read.

Grandmother,

The preparations have been made and we await only your agreement on the when of things. I would see it all done within the next moon, should you be able to attend by then. However, should your duties require you to stay or have need of me to postpone the wedding, I am more than happy to do so. I find I've no wish to be wed without your presence, grandmother. And while I and Humfrey could be wed in Dragons' Rest, I feel it would be for the best if it was done in Highgarden. So, I await your reply most eagerly.

Your loving granddaughter,

Desmera.

At first, it had been work. The need for her to be in the city and close to the king and queen had meant that rather than a quick courtship, it had been a much longer one that Ser Humfrey Hightower and Desmera had shared. Though given the words her granddaughter had written to her, in some ways that was a much better thing. Then it had been Olenna's own worries about the king. While Baelon had come on much over the past year or so, he'd at times be caught by her standing alone and brooding far too much. Lately, though it was the queen's pregnancy that had stopped Olenna from traveling to Highgarden and seeing her granddaughter wed the man she chose, the man she was starting to find true feelings for.

Olenna wished not to be away from the city in case the worst happened. Though the queen was healthy and Grandmaester Marwyn had no worries for her or the babe, Olenna couldn't help but think of Daenerys' and Baelon's own mothers and their troubles in the birthing bed. Both women had lost their lives and Queen Rhaella in particular had much trouble birthing a healthy babe. The words that Missandei had spoken about the queen's own loss of a child had only reinforced Olenna's concerns.

" A witch stole her son from her, Olenna. She cursed my queen and told her that she'd not birth a babe and feel her womb quicken ever again." Missandei said angrily.

" Yet she fell with child and all seems well."

" My queen is magic, as is my king. I fear not that the babe will be born healthy and yet…" Missandei's voice trailed off.

" You worry about it all the same," Olenna said and the younger woman nodded.

The gods had been good, however. They had taken all they had wanted from a young woman and young man who'd given more than their fair share. Prince Daeron had been born and was as healthy a babe as any could be. Olenna had even held him in her arms herself. She'd seen too just how much it had meant to both the king and queen. Daenerys bloomed as she had never done before. Never was the queen without a smile on her face since the birth and to see her hold her son in her arms was as close to true happiness that Olenna believed anyone had ever reached.

Baelon too had come more into himself. She'd seen more and more of the man he once was and though he was not fully there yet, he was closer than ever. Taking the letter in her hands, Olenna left her room in the makeshift Tower of the Hand and nodded to Arryk before she walked to where Daenerys and Baelon had their own chambers. She'd not made it even halfway when the white wolf had joined her. Reaching up to rub her hand through Ghost's white fur, Olenna shouldn't have been surprised when the white wolf moved to the door that led outside. Nor when after she'd bid Arryk to let the wolf outside, Ghost bid her to follow.

"It seems his grace wishes to speak to me, Ser Arryk," Olenna said with a chuckle, one joined in with by her former and almost still current guard.

"It seems that way, my lady," Arryk said, leading the way through the open door and following Ghost as he led them to where Baelon awaited.

Try as she might, Olenna had never been able to get Baelon to leave her unguarded. She'd gotten him to accept Erryk and Arryk into the Dragonguard but one or the other of them usually guarded her each day ever since. Olenna would be a poor liar if it said it didn't warm her heart that they did so at Baelon's behest. As it did to know that she was someone that he thought not of as a friend or in his service but as family.

"Baelon," she said as she moved to where the king stood alone other than Ser Sarel. It was another thing that marked both he and the queen out as something different, the lack of demand for propriety when it wasn't truly needed.

"Olenna." Baelon said warmly and Olenna looked to see the three dragons flying high in the sky, the golden one for once being the one nearest to the still unfinished Dragon's Lair "He's been outdoing even his brothers. It makes me ponder on certain things….but… no never mind."

"All is well with the queen and the prince, Baelon?"

"It is, Olenna. Wylla and Missandei are with them both and I have no doubt my son knows no rest." Baelon said, smiling as he did so "You've received word from your granddaughter?" Baelon asked and Olenna would have looked at him more oddly had she not served him and the queen for as long as she had.

As it was she knew full well who it had been that informed Baelon of Desmera's letter. Their Master of Whisperers knew things long before anyone else. His powers and the true extent of them were known only to him and mayhap his brother who shared some of his own. It gave her more comfort than she would have expected if she was being honest with herself. Though at times she found young Rickon Stark to be most odd too.

"Your brother?" she asked and Baelon nodded.

"I think we can spare you and the twins for a moon or so, Olenna." Baelon said, moving to her and taking her hand in his "Go and see your granddaughter be wed, enjoy this time with her for there are things we must do upon your return that can wait no longer."

"Baelon?"

"I'll speak not of them now, Olenna. And know that your departure affects them not. So don't even try to tell me that we'll see to them first. They can wait, your granddaughter has waited long enough."

"Surely the twins, I mean…"

"It would comfort me greatly to know they are by your side, Olenna," Baelon said and Olenna felt that warmth grow in her heart once more.

What she had done to earn her place in the king's heart, she knew not. Be it that he saw her as a grandmotherly figure or that he simply welcomed her counsel or be it something else. Mayhap it was simply that he lost so many people he cared for over the years. Whatever the true reason, Olenna most welcomed it.

"Then I shall take them both with me, Baelon."

A moon later.

Though the circumstances were much different and so too would be the outcome, Olenna still felt nervous when the day of the wedding came. Three times she'd seen Margaery wed and not one of them had led to any happiness for her Golden Rose. Each of them had in fact led Margaery a step closer to the Stranger's embrace. If she could go back in time or if the Seven would allow her to offer them all the days she'd known since then, then Olenna would have kept Margery in Highgarden and seen her wed to a man who wore no crown. Alas, the gods didn't work in such ways and there was no way to change the past.

As she broke her fast and looked to Desmera, Olenna offered up a prayer to anyone who'd listen. She prayed for Desmera to know the happiness that Olenna had known in her own marriage and that Mace had known with Alerie. Olenna begged the gods to allow her granddaughter to know the love that her two daughters knew with their own husbands. Both Janna and Mina had found love with the choices that she had made for them, surely the gods wouldn't deny Desmera the same.

After they'd eaten, she, Mina, and Desmera were heading to her granddaughter's room when they heard the sound from a nearby open window. Moving to it, Olenna looked out with a worried expression on her face and was stunned to see the green dragon land not far from the keep. With a quick look at Arryk, she then turned to her daughter and granddaughter and bid them head to their rooms while she and Arryk hurried outside. They arrived in time to see Baelon, Ghost, and Ser Donnel Waynwood walking towards them, Erryk moving to join them as she and his brother did likewise.

"Your grace?" she asked, well aware of just how many people looked at her and the king's way and so how much protocol was needed.

"Forgive my late arrival, Lady Olenna. I misjudged the time it took to fly here."

"Why have you come, your grace? Her grace, the prince?" she asked worriedly.

"Are as well as can be, my lady. Again forgive me for the short notice. I had worried I'd not be able to attend and so I spoke not of it. But I so wished to be here for your granddaughter's wedding and thankfully circumstances allowed for me to attend."

Olenna looked at the young man in front of her. Before she knew it, she'd embraced him and hugged him tightly. Not as a king but as what he had clearly shown he saw her to be. One member of a family with another. When she moved from him, Olenna was happy to see the smile on Baelon's face and even more so when he offered her his arm. Taking it, she was escorted into the keep and later that day, Baelon sat beside her as Desmera spoke the vows in Highgarden's Sept. Baelon even offered her his own handkerchief when the happy tears began to fall from her eyes.

At the feast that night, the king of the seven kingdoms danced with each of her daughters and once with her granddaughter. Baelon even got Olenna to join him on the dance floor and he celebrated Desmera's wedding as if it was his kin getting married. It had not been what Olenna had once sought. Yet, as she went to her bed that night, she found that she did so with a lightness in her heart that she'd not known in some time. Margaery, Mace, and Loras would always be mourned and missed, but there were other things that Olenna now lived for. Her daughters, grandsons, and her last remaining granddaughter. The work she would dedicate the rest of her life to and the family that had welcomed her as if she was one of their own. A queen, prince, and king that she was proud to know and even prouder to serve.

Highgarden 306 AC.

Talla Tarly.

The Lady of Horn Hill and head of her House, it had taken Talla quite some time to get used to both those things. Even now, more than two years since the raven had come informing her of the sentences that her brother and father had faced and what that truly meant, it was still at times hard to deal with. That the man who pronounced those sentences and who had actually swung the sword and taken her father from this world was now no more than a few feet from her, now almost forced her to do so. Talla though found she still knew not how she felt about Baelon Targaryen and all he'd cost her House.

Not that much of it was his fault, mind. Her father had taken leave of his senses and had risen against their liege lady. He'd joined with the damn Lannisters of all people and had actually tried to sack Highgarden. The shame of such a thing was hard to bear for Talla and her mother. They had always been made most welcome by the Tyrells anytime they visited Highgarden. Talla even considered Margaery to be a friend and she knew that Dickon looked up to Loras and wished to emulate his achievements in tourneys and the like. Yet her father had instead convinced her fool of a brother to join him in his treason.

' Thankfully it only cost one of them their head', Talla thought as she looked to where Dickon sat with his new wife.

Smiling upon seeing Little Sam so excited by the pageantry of the wedding and looking at her nephew Jon as he was held in his mother's arms, Talla hoped her good cheer would grow from there. As usual, though, it very much did not. Seeing her brother's son and the woman he loved, the woman now married to their other brother, Talla couldn't help but miss Samwell. For all the faults that their father had ascribed to Samwell, he bore none of them in her eyes and he truly deserved not his fate. Of course, just thinking about his fate made Talla once again turn her eyes to Baelon Targaryen.

The King of the Seven Kingdoms sat just to the left of the new husband and wife. Desmera looked like the very Maiden herself and Ser Humfrey complimented her most well and yet Talla would wager most eyes were like hers, on Baelon Targaryen. Though he bore a serious expression, it was clear to Talla that he was trying his best to be jovial. It was clear too that he and Lady Olenna got along most well and for the briefest moment, Talla wondered if there was more going on there than met the eye. She almost laughed aloud at just how odd a thought that was. For despite looking no older than Talla's own mother and cutting a striking figure because of it, Olenna Tyrell had almost reached her eightieth Nameday.

Shaking the thought from her head. Talla soon remembered that Olenna had lost her granddaughter and grandson, as well as her son when Cersei Lannister blew up the Great Sept. While Baelon too had lost much family, so both had mayhap bonded over that. Talla tried to allow herself to simply enjoy the day. She had thought she would do, despite the awkwardness of coming to a keep her father had sought to take for his own. Had even been doing so right up to the point that the green dragon was spotted. Once it had been, however, her mind had turned to all she'd lost and those not here.

"His grace would like a word with you, Lady Gilly." the white-cloaked Dragonguard said, shaking Talla from her thoughts.

"I….Can I bring my sons with me?" Gilly asked, nervously.

"I believe his grace would much like that, my lady."

Talla looked from her Goodsister to the high table and noticed that the king was no longer there. She watched as Gilly rose shakily and as Little Sam took his mother's hand. Dickon hadn't offered to join his wife and for once Talla could blame him not. He'd done the right thing and married her to give her a name and a future. This meant that even in her darkest thoughts regarding her brother, Talla had given him much credit for that and for it being his own idea to do so. While he was only allowed to wed whomever the Tyrells and the Crown allowed him to, her brother had married Gilly not to earn any favor. Though he had indeed earned Talla's own back somewhat in doing so.

With the king no longer in sight and despite some worries about whatever he may say to Gilly and of his upsetting her, Talla began to once more enjoy the wedding for what it was. Dickon asked her to dance when the music started up once more and this time, Talla accepted. She even accepted a dance from a knight from House Ashford, as it had been some time since she'd had a handsome man show her much interest. Or at least interest that looked to be genuinely about her and not the lands she now ruled over.

Taking her seat after the third dance, she looked nervously to Gilly's empty one and was about to ask Dickon to go and see if she was well only for her Goodsister, Little Sam, and her nephew to walk back into the Great Hall and make their way to the table. Moving from her seat, Talla bid Dickon to look after the children and spoke in soft whispers to her Goodsister.

"All is well between you and the king?" she asked.

"It is. He wished to know if we were happy in our lives. Me, Little Sam, and Jon. Promised that should we ever need for something then a simple request is all it would take for his aid."

"You believe him?" Talla asked, only realizing that her tone had caused some concern when she saw Gilly's frown "I mean, I know him not other than his actions, Gilly. You had some dealings with him at the Wall, did you not?"

"I did." Gilly said with relief "Sam would often say that Jon always does the right thing, even when he should not. He let our people through the Wall and went for them when no other man would do so. Sam believed in him and so do I."

"Good," Talla said, as she reached out to take Gilly's hand in hers.

Talla had not known how to take Gilly at first. But hearing the tale of her and her brother had made her so grateful to the young woman. To know that in his last days, Sam had been happy and loved had removed a weight from Talla's heart that she may have carried with her for the rest of her life otherwise. Then to find out that a little piece of her brother lived still, was something she was most grateful for. It had allowed her and her mother to accept somewhat that Sam was gone but would never be forgotten.

Hearing that originally she may never have even known about Gilly, Little Sam or her nephew had on the other hand caused Talla much distress. The plan was never for Gilly to come to the Reach and to them, but for her to go North and it was only the war that was being fought there that had changed that plan. Well, that war and Lady Olenna's personal interference in matters.

" As a woman who has lost much family, I know what it would mean to me to find out I had more in this cruel world. Should you not find it in your hearts to welcome Gilly and her children into your home then fear not, for they will be most welcomed amongst their own people once their graces win the war."

" I thank you, Lady Olenna, truly. For my mother and me both."

"Talla?" Gilly asked worriedly, taking Talla from the memory.

"Forgive me, my mind wanders at times. So all is well with you and his grace?" she asked to change the subject before Gilly could ask what it was that she'd been thinking about.

"He asked if Dickon was treating me well and if I was happy with the match," Gilly said, a soft smile on her face as she looked to where Dickon was playing some game with Little Sam while holding Jon in his arms.

"And?" she asked, though she knew full well the answer.

"I told the truth," Gilly said and Talla smiled at her, it had been a question she'd asked her Goodsister more than once after all.

She was about to rise and head to the privy when the Dragonguard returned to the table and bid her to follow him to the king. A spiteful part of her wished to deny him and yet she knew she could not. Not only did you go when the king called, but she was curious too to hear whatever it was that Baelon Targaryen wished to say to her. So forgoing the need to use the privy, Talla instead followed after the Dragonguard as he led her to one of Highgarden's balconies.

To her surprise, the king stood alone and unguarded. It took Talla a moment to remember that other than the man who walked with her, Baelon had arrived alone. She wondered if he was always so lax in his security and whether or not that was a good or bad thing. Surely he faced threats and mayhap even many of them. Given who had killed Sam and the reason why they'd done so, those threats were most dangerous. Though Baelon had faced off against a king of death and won, so mayhap he simply didn't fear anyone after that.

"I shall leave you here, my lady, and escort you back when you're ready." the Dragonguard said and Talla nodded as she walked out onto the balcony and to the wall that the king leaned against.

Sam had written to her and her mother about his time at the Wall. Though the letters were few and far between, Talla had most enjoyed reading them. In them, he'd spoken much of the true friend he'd made there. How Jon Snow was the bravest and truest of men and that he was a brother by choice to Sam. Yet even after her brother had been murdered, the man in front of her had sent no letter or shared no words on how he felt about it. It was because of that, that Talla now felt her anger at Baelon rising. However, before she could open her mouth and dare to reprimand him, the king began to speak.

"I lost almost all my brothers, my lady. Both those by blood and choice. Robb to betrayal. Bran to his own desires. Grenn and Pyp to a battle that we should never have been forced to fight. Sam….Sam I lost to men who sought to use him to take my life from me. Men who in the end made him naught more than a tool when he deserved to be so much more than them or most of those back in the Great Hall we just left." Baelon said, his hands gripped tightly together and when Talla looked she could see there were tears in his eyes.

She heard him sigh, then he turned to face her.

"I cannot bring him back to you, it's not in my power to do such a thing. So I can offer you but this. Those who took him from this world may think they're untouchable. They may think I've forgotten and seek not to make them pay. I can assure you, Lady Talla, I have very much not forgotten them. A day of reckoning is soon to come to them and though it won't bring Sam back to either of us, it will have to suffice to know that those who ended his life, will find no peace in this world and will soon know what faces them in the next. Trust me, my lady, it is not a pleasant thing that they'll find when I send them there."

With that, Baelon turned and walked towards the door and before he got there, Talla asked him the question she'd wished to ask for so very long.

"Do you miss him, your grace? Do you miss my brother?" she asked, shakily as her emotions almost got the best of her.

"Every single day. He was my brother, my lady, and I… I miss him and them all."

It took her some time to make her way back to the Great Hall. Talla needed time to compose herself and then the need to use the privy became even more pressing. When she did arrive back it was to see Baelon speak to a young woman she didn't know. He seemed to be feigning joviality, putting on an act, and for some reason that comforted her. Taking her seat, she asked Dickon if he knew who it was the king was speaking to only for Gilly instead to answer.

"That's Talia Oakheart. She's from the North and House Forrester." Gilly said and Talla looked at her Goodsister both impressed and confused about how she knew so much "We spoke to each other a little earlier as she had some dealings with my people and even trained with the Spearwives." Gilly said, smiling as she did so.

"And she wed an Oakheart?"

"Aye. Apparently, the Lady Warden of Winterfell convinced her to do as she wished, rather than as some suggested." Gilly said and Talla nodded.

Eventually, the wedding feast began to wind down and while there were calls to bed the new husband and wife, the king's words saying there would be no bedding were more than enough to quieten down the voices. Gilly and the children along with Dickon had already retired for the evening and so Talla made her way to her rooms alone. Undressing and laying down on her bed once she got there, she was soon asleep and it was with no surprise that her dreams that night were of her father and of Sam. Only one of them she wept over upon her waking the next morning.

The green dragon and the king who rode upon it were gone by the time she broke her fast and Talla could only hope that the words spoken were true. That those who'd taken Sam from this world would find no respite. Not here and not in whatever seven hells that Baelon intended to send them to.

King's Landing, 306 AC

Archmaester Marwyn

Looking down at the words written in his journal made him realize just how drastically lives could change in the span of little more than a year. So much had happened in Westeros that if he was as close-minded as his former colleagues, then he would have blamed it on the Targaryen's return. The truth, however, was that the realm had turned out to be much better under the dragons' rule. As Marwyn had always known it would be.

Aerys had not been a good king, let alone a good man, but from a scholar's point of view, other than the Lords who openly slighted him or disputed his authority, Westeros was as prosperous under his rule as it had been since the days after the Dance of Dragons. Robert Baratheon's reign had been one in which the highborn who had his favor had gorged themselves on riches and grew far too powerful and greedy. Meanwhile, the rest of the realm, and most especially the smallfolk had all suffered from their king's excesses. King Robert's death had been the catalyst for even more of the Nobles' decadence and destruction, with the War of the Five Kings depleting most of their forces and the Lannisters taking care of the rest. First by blowing up the Sept of Baelor, and then with the Burning of King's Landing.

Yet Marwyn had known deep down, and long before that war, that change was about to come. Something which was only confirmed when he'd arrived one day at his study to see the glass candle that he had in his possession was now burning brightly. Visions of dragons and terrifying things with blue eyes had been seen through the bright flame of said candle. The images and thoughts of such had then kept him awake for days. So terrified was he that he had immediately set out to find out about anything related to those horrible monstrous creatures. Even going as far as reaching out to his old friend Aemon at the Wall.

News had then reached him from Essos that Daenerys Targaryen had done the impossible in waking dragons from stone. While his correspondence with Aemon had brought him news of impossible things taking place beyond the wall and of dead men of the Watch coming back to life.

Marwyn had traveled to Essos, seeking to get a glimpse of the dragons, and had gathered all the information he could about them, secretly hoping to meet the then Queen of Mereen but to no avail. He had watched as people both revered and feared the woman in equal measure. He'd even been told the story of how she got an army of Unsullied and gathered enough strength for the Dothraki to follow her as a true Khalessi, not because of her dragons, but due to her resilience.

Many times since then Marywn had wished his old friend had lived to be there to see the good that Daenerys and her husband, the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who had then turned out to be the true king of Westeros, had done. Raising his head from his journal, he smiled warmly as he looked at Baelon Targaryen, thinking back to a day they had spent talking about the Citadel's lack of involvement in the realm's affairs as of late.

" Aemon talked about you much, you know?"

" You knew Aemon?"

" Yes, Your Grace. They did him wrong by not naming him Archmaester, but he had sacrificed a lot so his brother and his family could rule the Seven Kingdoms and so they trusted him not because of it."

" Aye, I heard about how he refused to sit on the Iron Throne so King Aegon could. How did you… End up talking about me?"

" We corresponded a lot regarding what went on at the Wall, after the incident with the Wights. I believe we were truly friends. I trusted no one in the Order, except for him and my acolytes. He couldn't say too much, but I believe he somewhat knew about you."

" Did he… What did he say?"

" He felt a strange kinship to you and said you were a great man. That you wore your heart on your sleeve and he feared for your safety, for you weren't afraid to challenge things for the greater good. He said that the Watch wasn't ready for change, but a change was needed and he believed you would be the perfect man to do so. I'm sorry to say I failed him, Your Grace."

" How?"

" He asked me to watch over his family, to ensure that Queen Daenerys would be fully prepared for when the Long Night would come. I tried my best to convince my peers, Your Grace, and to warn Queen Daenerys about what was to come, but try as I might, nobody wanted to hear my pleas. I couldn't get close to Queen Daenerys, and by the time I went back to Westeros, Aemon had already passed."

" Princess Sarella told me that you've tried. I trust her, and so do Ghost and Rhaegal. So I trust you too, and I won't begrudge you for the short-sightedness of others."

" I thank you, Your Grace, for your kindness and your leniency," Marwyn said, relieved.

" And I thank you for reminding me that there are people who deserve to be called Maesters. Thinking of my grand uncle, of Maester Luwin, Wolkan working in Winterfell and seeing you trying your best to help us build a better world for everyone, regardless of their status, makes me realize that there are still good people coming out of this institution."

" You honor me, Your Grace."

" You honor yourself, Archmaester. This is why, with my wife's assent, we would like you to become our Grand Maester and to serve us and the new King's Landing."

" Me? Your Grace?" Marwyn gasped, taken aback by the proposal.

" Aye. There is no one we trust but a man like you who was the only one who believed in magic and in a world where the impossible happens more than we ask for. I expect you to help us with matters regarding this aspect of our lives, so we can protect ourselves from those who would want these gifts to simply disappear."

" I will, your Grace. You can count on me, I will do my best."

" We hope so, Grand Maester."

" In that regard, would you allow me to talk to your brother?" Marwyn asked giddily, making the King chuckle.

" I cannot guarantee he will cooperate fully with you, but I'll try. Do not be alarmed by his rough exterior. He is a wolf in all but form, and you will have to gain his trust."

" A feat I will be elated to realize, Your Grace."

" Well, I wish you good fortune for the challenges you will face. You will need it." King Baelon laughed as truly as he always did when his brother was involved.

His loyalty had been tested more than once since then. Word about Rickon and Baelon's demise and return from the dead slipped from Daenerys' mouth during a conversation with her advisor Missandei. Yet while Marwyn desperately wanted to understand how it had happened, for he knew without a doubt that they were not lying, Rickon Stark and his direwolf's deadly glare prevented him from asking anything.

It took Marwyn four moons to manage to get close to Rickon Stark. The man some people now called the Warg Lord always seemed to know when the Grand Maester would time his approach. So he always succeeded in evading him. To make up for his failure in studying Rickon's powers, the King and Queen allowed him to do so with the dragons. Or they did so with the promise that everything new he found out about them would only be shared with the Crown.

He however found his effort rewarded when a raven from Winterfell arrived at Court and the news it contained shook the King to his very core. Marwyn stood in a corner of the room while watching the impossible unfold before him.

"Baelon? What is it?" Queen Daenerys asked worriedly as the King's eyes glazed before calming down when Rickon rushed inside.

"Is this true? Is she alive?" the latter said out of breath.

"I was counting on you to tell me, brother." King Baelon answered.

"I… By the gods… I didn't know it could be possible… After all this time…"

"What? What is going on?" Daenerys asked, as confused and worried as Marwyn felt.

"This message is from Sansa. She wrote that Arya… Arya is back…" Baelon said, smiling through his tears as his wife and guards all gasped.

"How… How is this possible, Your Grace?" Jorah Mormont enquired.

"I do not know, but I doubt my sister would joke about it."

"She wouldn't." Rickon acquiesced, his voice trembling with emotion. "And Arya just confirmed it. That's why I couldn't hear her through the tree. I should have known, I should have felt something… I'm so sorry, sister."

"So she's back? Truly?" the Queen asked with something akin to hope in her voice.

"Aye. She's been watching over Sansa for some time now."

"Why the hell hasn't Sansa said anything before?" Baelon suddenly yelled before Rickon took his hand, making the king's eye glaze once more. "Arya? Oh, Arya…"

"We should give them some privacy…" Queen Daenerys said, stopping short as she spotted Marwyn.

Panic overwhelmed the Grand Maester while Rickon, who seemed to be unfazed unlike his brother, turned his gaze toward him. He was about to say something and to swear on the Old Gods and the New that nothing that he had witnessed would be repeated. Ready to say that he was even willing to cut his tongue so they could let him live when a chuckle from the boy cut him short.

"She is not entirely back. Her mind is inside Nymeria's body. She was, is a warg as I am, as Baelon is. The wolves are our familiars, and Nymeria is Arya's. You may wonder why I am sharing all of this with you instead of ending your life right now?"

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

"You'll know soon enough. Now leave us." Rickon's commanding tone left no place for objection.

It was only after the confirmation of the Queen's pregnancy that the former King in the North came to him, waiting for him with his wolf in his tent, Marwyn being surprised to see them in his quarters.

"I need you to do something for me, Archmaester." Rickon Stark said sternly.

"My Lord?"

"I need you to let Wylla be there when the time will come for my goodsister to deliver the babe."

"I… I can assure you that I am more than capable of delivering -"

"I know this, Archmaester. But for my peace of mind and my brother's, you have to let Wylla be there." Rickon insisted.

"You had a vision, have you not?" Marwyn frowned, making the boy tense. "I know of your powers. I understand them not, but I have seen and heard enough already not to go against your wishes, my Lord."

"Rickon. Just Rickon. And I thank you for this."

"However…"

"I bloody knew it!" Rickon sighed loudly while his direwolf rolled his eyes. "Name your price, then."

"I heard that you could see the past. That you saw how to defeat the Night King."

"Who told you that?" Rickon growled, making Marwyn tense.

"I'm sure you'll be able to know should you look into it." the Mage challenged, feigning confidence, although he could feel that Rickon could somewhat smell his fear.

"Aye, I did." the warg relented. "What about it?"

"I want to write a book about the Long Night. About how it started and how it ended. So the people who lost their lives so that we could live ours would not be forgotten." Marwyn said and his words seemed to garner the boy's approval. "I already gathered a lot of testimonies, but-"

"I'll help you. People need to know about it as a cautionary tale. Yet some things have to remain hidden. The extent of my knowledge is one of them. For me to be able to serve my brother as I shall, I do not want to have the focus shifted on me."

"I'll be discreet."

"I know you will."

Rickon's words sent a shiver down Marwyn's spine. He knew by the direwolf's stance that it was not an affirmation but an unveiled threat. Marywn was certain that should he say something too revealing to anyone, then he would not be breathing the next minute.

Things went smoothly enough from that point forward. Daenerys and Baelon offered the rooms of the part of the Red Keep that were still inhabitable to the workers and their families while settling in ones clearly not fit for a king and a queen. They didn't seem to care, which for someone raised as a bastard turned brother of the former Night's Watch and an exiled girl from Essos who had traveled with Dothraki, came as little to no shock for Marwyn. Baelon's attitude, though, seemed to improve greatly as days went by, and the birth of his child transformed him completely. As there were no bells to toll because of the devastation of the city, small processions traveled to the city to announce Prince Daeron's birth, to the utter joy of the smallfolk and the nobles still present in the newly named city of Dragons' Rest. Soon, ravens flew to summon the Small Council and Marwyn's days became a sort of routine until their arrival. He would check on the city and offer any help with injuries or healing in the morning, then take his lunch while speaking to Rickon Stark and the King about the Long Night. Marwyn would then check up on the little Prince and put his mother and father's mind at ease and end his day spending some time studying the dragons.

Lord Davos, the newly appointed Master of Ships, was the first to arrive and doted on the babe as if he was his own grandson, much to Baelon and Daenerys' delight. He was closely followed by Lady Allyria Dayne, who represented her nephew as Mistress of Laws. Finally, the Master of Coin, Lord Daven Lannister, arrived a few days later, and the first council since the Prince's birth took place after the Lord of Casterly Rock had rested a little.

"We are sorry for making all of you travel on such short notice, but there is something of import we needed to talk to you about. But first, we wanted you to meet our son Prince Daeron Targaryen." Daenerys said softly, as the council looked at the babe with awe.

"A good name for a prince of the realm, Your Graces." Lord Devan said with a warm smile.

"We wish that the Hall of Faith which is being built at the moment shall take his name, for Daeron will be raised to know of the three religions that matter to us. The Seven who are One is the most spread religion and we wish him to learn the Seven-Pointed Star so he could lead his people. Though he will be raised to know the Old Gods of his Northern ancestors and the Lord of Light who is the reason for his Father being alive. There would also be a place for the worshippers of the Great Stallion, as the Dothraki form a good part of my following." the Queen added, her eyes only for her babe as a new mother would.

Marwyn expected backlash for this, as most of the Lords present were followers of the Seven, and was surprised to hear none.

"For all I've lived through, I think it an excellent idea. I may not like the Lord of Light, but I'm also here thanks to him, and there's no denying watching our Lady Hand that his magic is powerful." Lord Davos declared.

"You won't find me complaining about the Lord of Light either." Lady Olenna chuckled, leading the room to do the same.

"Speaking of the Dothraki, they finally decided on where to settle." King Baelon added, looking at his brother who had a mischievous expression.

"They were sent to aid the Vale fight the mountain clans, as they've lost a lot of their mounted men due to their stupidity." Rickon sneered and Marwyn was once again surprised to see all of the lords and ladies in attendance snort. "The raids to the villages were more pressing and Lord Hardyng asked for our help, to which Their Graces sent Qhono and his men, as well as some of the Free Fol men in our command and the Unsullied with Ser Donnel as their guide and commander."

"Did they succeed in repressing the hill tribes?" Lady Allyria inquired.

"This… somewhat worked, yes?" Rickon answered, smiling sheepishly. "the Dothraki obliterated the raiders. Thanks to the Free Folk, they were able to track down some of them and offered them a choice, either settle down and join the realm truly or die."

"What did they choose?" Lord Davos asked.

"Let's just say that both the Dothraki and the Free Folk have found new territories to settle and leave it at that."

"Well… Changing the subject." Davos started, stopping the uncomfortable silence which had settled amongst them after Rickon's declaration. "The survey of Summerhall is done, and work can start as soon as you want, Your Graces."

This caught the Grand Maester's attention, as he'd been waiting for news about Summerhall for some time. As soon as they dealt with the contentious maesters by suggesting they retire comfortably under the Hightowers' protection, an offer most of them took graciously and some of them were forced to choose, the idea of offering more education and teaching more trades for both men and women was then put on the table by Princess Sarella.

"Our efforts are still oriented on rebuilding King's Landing, but hopefully we will be able to build a settlement to start on trade instructions at least. We need more capable and learned men and women in a lot of fields these days." Marwyn declared.

"We trust you to find the best trade masters to put to use. Grand Maester. You will be helped in your task by our Mistress of Education." the Queen said, smiling as Missandei bowed her head respectfully, and he could spot Grey Worm puffing up his chest at the announcement.

"A wise choice, Your Grace." Davos nodded with something akin to pride.

"The West is willing to offer the help of some of its mining masters, as well as their blacksmiths and anything forge related."

"I thank you, Lord Devan. Blacksmiths will be much needed in the moons to come." The King said, his face getting serious and his voice chilling, confusing everyone. "There is something that needs to be done and I will once again have need of your very best men."

"Are we preparing for another war, Your Grace?" Lord Devan asked, unsettled.

"Not a war. A reckoning."

King Baelon then proceeded to talk about things that shook Marwyn to the core and opened his eyes about a lot of not only the king's but also his brother's reactions since the day they had first met.

Marwyn understood by hearing about the various attempts on their lives how wary they were of everyone, mostly him, and his heart broke as he realized what had happened to his former acolyte. Samwell Tarly was very proud of his friendship with the then Lord Commander of the Watch. That he had been targeted and killed by a timeless cult so they could get closer to the King revolted Marwyn greatly, but not so much as what he heard afterward.

"They killed my sister because she wanted to go back to her family. They obviously fear us for some reason, but not for the right one. Thus far they have tried to end my life probably dozens of times."

"Fourteen, if we count Sam." Rickon rectified.

"Aye. Thanks to Rickon, Ghost, and Bear's involvement, we've been able to stop them every time."

"Begging your pardon, your Grace, but we all thought you were going to deal with them as soon as you could for what they did to Lady Arya…" Lord Davos said, frowning. "And now you're telling us that they're still after you?"

"We've only been reactive because my head wasn't yet in the right place. I felt I had nothing to lose, and my desire for revenge pushed me to want to tear them apart one by one. Now that I am a father, there's too much to lose. I will not risk my son's safety. Especially since they owe me a debt of blood"

"Your Grace?"

"The Faceless Men think of us as abominations because they believe we stole our lives from their God of Death. They have stolen my sister's life and there's a debt to be paid. It's Finally time for us to be proactive."

"Why didn't you act before the Prince's birth?" Lady Olenna chided.

"Because my goodsister is as stubborn as her husband and wanted to be by his side to fight them." Rickon sighed and stuck out his tongue at a glaring Daenerys.

"A wise woman told me in a letter not to forget that even though I am a dragon, I am also a wolf and that there were times for me to be one or the other. When my sister shared with me the concern she had about the Order not seeing the birth of my child in a good light, this awoke the dragon in me." King Baelon answered in turn, and while he tried to stay vague, those in the know like Marwyn deduced he was talking of Arya.

"The West will stand ready to protect its King and Prince Daeron, Your Graces." Lord Devan said proudly.

"I have no doubt that Dorne will stand with you too, should you ask or aid."

"So will the Reach."

"Thank you, Lady Dayne, Lady Hand. We cannot send a Raven for obvious reasons, but we will send word to Princess Sarella and Lady Desmera. They both have helped us tremendously so far and their support will be appreciated."

"The ships will be ready whenever you will be, Your Graces."

"We expected nothing less from our Master of ships, Lord Davos." the queen said, bowing her head to him.

The end of the meeting was decided not by the King nor the Queen, but by the starving Prince who made his discontent known, prompting everyone to leave the room, the women gushing all about him while the men chuckled at their attitude.

Marwyn, however, didn't have the heart to laugh. His thoughts were turned toward the former acolyte of the Citadel who had met his demise because of a Cult that should understand magic, yet had thought themselves the guardians of it. Like some of the Red Priests who interpreted things the way they wanted, or the Septons who relayed their Superior's ideology rather than what was truly written in their copies of the Seven-Pointed Star, the House of Black and White had forgotten the very reason why they existed. While spreading the gift of death to those who sought it, they also dispensed it for people rich enough to pay them handsomely. It didn't make them better than the Golden Company or any other mercenaries in Marwyn's eyes, just more hypocritical.

They have killed innocent people to reach their goals, and Samwell Tarly, a nice man, had been a collateral victim of their mission to get to Baelon Targaryen. Marwyn couldn't wait to see the way the dragons would deal with them and to add it to his Fire and Blood Chronicle.

Braavos 306 AC.

Ser Donnel Waynwood.

He'd never been a part of such a thing, had never even heard of such a thing, to be honest. The fleet that left Westeros put the one assembled during the Greyjoy Rebellion by King Robert Baratheon to shame. Ships blocked out your view no matter which way you looked and all Donnel could think was that he was glad to be sailing with rather than against them. What their goal was, he and only a few others knew. It was not what most thought it was, however.

They didn't seek to take Braavos for their own. Nor was this an invasion of Essos. Though it was a warning to both the Sealord and the Magisters who ruled each of the Free Cities. Deny the dragons and face your doom. Simple, direct, and to the point. Just like his king. It had been almost three years that this had been in the planning. Two of them where Donnel himself was part of that planning. For justice, some may say they sailed, but the king and his brother sailed not for that. No, they sailed for vengeance and it would be wrought in fire and blood.

While the queen and the children remained in King's Landing with the Lord Commander and three of his fellow brothers, Donnel and Ser Sarel Shieldbreaker served their king and would be by his side during his time in Braavos. 'Or as by his side as any man can be when that king had a dragon to call upon' Donnel thought wryly. How much blood either of them would need to shed depended on the Sealord himself, Donnel did not believe it would be much. Watching the Titan come into view, he heard the voice of his fellow Dragonguard and looked to see Ser Sarel, Rickon Stark with his wolf and eagle, and Ghost moving across the deck of the ship.

"Lord Rickon," he said, greeting the young boy who was now almost a man grown.

"Ser Donnel." the boy replied, sounding so much like the king that if you heard only the voice, you'd expect to see dark hair and grey eyes instead of Rickon's light brown hair and blue eyes.

"Ser Sarel."

"Ser Donnel." the former Wildling replied.

Sarel had been an odd choice for a Dragonguard, or he would have been if it was any other king and queen that Donnel served. He along with Ser Black Dragon the Unsullied and Ser Qorro, who was the son of the head of the commander of the Khalasar had both been chosen simply on merit. Sarel was as dangerous as any man and with his giant ax in hand, he was a match for all but the king. While Qorro wielded his Arakh as if it was an extension of his arm. Not to mention that only a fool with a death wish would dare to challenge the twins.

Good men and true, that's what the king had said to him when he'd asked Donnel to join the order. Donnel would name all six of his brothers as that and there was not a single one of them he felt shamed in serving with. Seeing the king's brother move to the bow of the ship, Donnel wasn't surprised when his eagle left his shoulder and took to the sky. Nor was he by the sight of the two dragons that flew over their heads once he'd done so.

Viserion was there simply to add to the warning that the king wished to send. If it required more than that, then it would be Rhaegal who would show the folly of not heeding that warning. Though the green dragon had another task to do here in Braavos and even Donnel shuddered when he let his mind turn to that. Seeing Rickon place his hands on the ship's rail and how both wolves now stood as sentinels on either side of him, Donnel needed not to hear what Sarel whispered.

"He's about in his eagle, doing the Old Gods' work once more," Sarel said and while that was true, it was not just the Old Gods' work that Rickon was about.

Entering under the Titan, soon the bay was covered in their ships and nothing or no one would leave but by their design. Off in the distance, high in the sky, an eagle and two dragons were busy making sure that none had left by land either. In less than an hour, the first of their ships had docked and the docks were soon full of their men. All were armed and armored and as Donnel watched the second and third of their ships dock too, it was with a relieved smile that he handed the Myrish Eye to Ser Sarel.

"I had expected at least some blood to be spilled." his fellow Dragonguard said, his tone one of disappointment.

"Oh, you'll spill much before the night is done." Rickon Stark said forebodingly.

By mid-afternoon, their men patrolled each gate that led out from the city and horsemen rode outside of it just in case any slipped through. He, Sarel, and Rickon Stark had not left the ship and it was only the arrival of the young man's eagle that hinted that they'd be leaving soon. The waiting was boring and yet there had been no fights, no one had tried to board their ship and the Sealord had sent them no message.

"Baelon's here," Rickon said happily as he moved to the gangplank, and though the young boy moved quickly, he was not as fast as the white wolf.

"Aye, 'tis good to see you too old friend." the king said as the white wolf licked his face.

Around the docks, men and women looked on nervously as the white wolf was joined by the black one and as Rickon and the king embraced like the true brothers they were. Donnel and Ser Sarel took up their positions and with a nod of the king's head, all four of them moved from the docks and into the city itself.

Almost five hundred armed men marched with them. Unsullied, men from the North, West, Riverlands, Reach, Vale, Stormlands, and Dorne. Men of the Dothraki and Free Folk. All of Westeros comprised in one unstoppable force and even was it not for that, Donnel would match them against four or five times their number, he knew the king's safety was never in doubt. Though unseen the dragons were there, Donnel knew it, Sarel knew it, Rickon and the King knew it and he wagered every single person in Braavos knew what should happen to them should an attempt be made on the king's life.

Should they interfere with the business that King Baelon and Lord Rickon were about, then Braavos and even Essos itself would burn. That had been the words sent to the Sealord and given all that he'd seen since they'd arrived here, the man had listened and listened well. Looking at the king and his brother as they walked side by side, Donnel could see no anger or rage in either of their faces. Though he very much doubted he'd not see some by the end of the day, he hoped to see it but the once.

It took them no time at all to reach the Sealord's Palace. Nor was he surprised when the man himself greeted them as warmly as if he was a lord sworn to the crown and not the leader of a city that swore to no one. They were welcomed and given bread and salt, which the Sealord was relieved to see accepted. Then less than an hour later, the king was once again atop his dragon and Rickon Stark led a flotilla of one hundred boats that bore them to an island in the middle of one of the many canals. Unlike most of the other islands that made up Braavos, this one had no bridges leading to and from it. It bore but one building and as Donnel looked to Rickon Stark, he thanked the gods that the boy's expression was for those inside and not Donnel or anyone that he cared for.

"My lord?" he asked as they reached the shore.

"We wait until we hear a dragon's roar." Rickon Stark said as Donnel nodded to the men in the other boats and the House of Black and White was surrounded completely.

Ser Sarel Shieldbreaker.

Sarel looked at the men who now surrounded this small island and he, like them, waited for the dragon's roar. King Crow could have picked one of his other brothers in white to join him and the Warg Lord on this mission. Then again, King Crow could have picked another man to wear the white cloak that Sarel wore so proudly. Instead, he'd picked Sarel, and just as it had on the day King Crow had handed him his cloak, it made Sarel wish his mother was alive to see her son treated with such respect.

At first, when King Crow had taken him under his wing, Sarel had thought it was simply because of who his mother had been. That the respect that she was held in by both Baelon and Rickon had been passed over to her son. While there was some of that in King Crow's decision, it was not for that reason alone that it was to him and no other man of the Free Folk that the honor was granted. Sarel had found out the truth about that during one of the very first spars that he and King Crow shared together.

" Your mother was a great woman, Sarel. A woman I mourn as much as any who lost their lives fighting the Night King and his army of dead men. Yet, it's the skill I see in you when you wield your ax as much as the character I know she passed down to you that makes me wish to see you rise high"

" I thank you, King Crow."

" You carry Nessa within you always, Sarel. I have no doubt that when she looks down upon you, she does so with pride. Pride that you've well earned."

Less than a year later, King Crow had placed the White Cloak on his shoulders and named him one of his and the queen's seven. Together they'd raised a mug of ale in honor of his mother and Sarel had believed that he could feel her joy in seeing all he'd accomplished. It had been King Crow himself who'd officiated over Sarel's wedding and Baelon had shed a tear when Sarel's firstborn son was born and he'd named him Tormund.

Today, though King Crow flew atop the green dragon, Sarel knew he was about his business. His ax along with Ser Donnel's sword would ensure that the Warg Lord faced no threat on this strange small island. Not that the Warg Lord truly needed anyone to guard his back given the powers he possessed and the wolves by his side. Still, should any man or woman think themselves lucky or prove themselves fools, Sarel and his axes would be ready.

"It's time." Rickon Stark said and the moment he did so, the green and golden dragons flew over their heads and both dragons let out roars that were as soft as thunder.

Moving the boat to the island, Sarel, Donnel, Rickon Stark, and the two giant Direwolves climbed out of it and made their way to the large double door. On his shoulder, Rickon Stark's eagle stood like a sentinel and the Warg Lord looked every inch the man that Sarel knew him to be. He'd once named him the second most dangerous man in all the seven kingdoms, only for King Crow to correct him when he'd heard Sarel speak the words.

" If you name me as first you do my brother a disservice, Sarel. Trust me, dragon or no, there is no more dangerous man than he."

Watching the doors as they opened, as the guards who surrounded the building now lined up behind them, Sarel looked to Ser Donnel and then to the Warg Lord and it was the latter who nodded and bid them follow. The room they entered was large and open with a small pool in the middle of it. Around it, young men and women wearing grey sack cloths as clothing all looked their way warily while Ser Donnel held his hand on his sword's hilt and Sarel his own on his ax's handle. Looking at the two wolves, they were both alert and wary, but not worried or agitated.

"Tell the Kindly Man that Arya Stark's brothers have come to collect a debt owed to them." the Warg Lord called out, sounding far older than his young years should allow him to do.

At first, there was no movement, then all at once, the men and women in grey clothing moved upon them. Sarel heard the sound of Valyrian Steel being unsheathed as Wolf's Bite was brought to bear by the Warg Lord. Beside Rickon Stark, both the other wolves were bringing their own bites to bear just as truly. Ser Donnel took down a young woman that could not have yet reached her twentieth years, while Sarel was using his large great ax and removing a head from a young man's shoulders. In the blink of an eye, he was using his two smaller axes and throwing them at two fools who thought to bring crossbows to bear.

Few of their number had fallen and soon enough the large open hall they had walked into was covered in blood, bone, and bodies. Off in the distance, a door closed and for the briefest moment, Sarel swore he saw a face covered in worms move behind that door. As the sound of fighting finally stopped, Sarel looked to see that both he and Ser Donnel stood not more than a foot or more away from the Warg Lord and their charge had suffered no injury.

Wolf's Bite, like the white and black wolves, was covered in blood. Even the eagle that now flew back to land on the Warg Lord's shoulder had blood on its beak and talons. At a nod from the Warg Lord, some of the guards moved to help their injured to the outside or to remove the few of their dead back to the boats. The Warg Lord and the wolves weren't yet finished here, however. Sarel and Ser Donnel watched as Rickon Stark, Ghost and Bear made sure that not a single man or woman wearing grey would ever rise again.

"My Lord, You…"

Sarel heard Ser Donnel's voice and then moved to where Ghost had bitten into the leg of a man wearing their colors. Before he reached him, Wolf's Bite had taken his head from his shoulders and the Warg Lord was holding the head in his hands while removing the face it wore.

"Not one of ours, Ser Donnel." Rickon said to a nod from Sarel's brother in white.

"What now, my lord?" Ser Donnel asked.

"My vengeance is sated, Ser Donnel." Rickon said as he bid them leave "It's time for my brother to know his own."

It took them some time to board up the door and to check that there was no other way out of the building. Even more to get back to the boats and to row them the safe distance from the island that they needed to be. The flotilla still surrounded the island and between them, they could see every inch of it. Then all of them sat and waited until once again the dragons began to roar.

Sarel had not truly seen them during the war against the dead. No one truly had since then. Westeros was at peace and no one there was fool enough to draw the dragon's ire down upon them. So other than watching them fly over the city or even once or twice, flying atop one with King Crow when they traveled to Dragonstone or further afield, Sarel knew the truth of the dragons only by the tales of those who'd seen more than he.

Now, he looked on eagerly as the golden dragon flew to one side of the island while the green one flew to the other. He and every man in the flotilla and dare he say it, everyone in the city who could find a decent view. All of them watched and waited. None more keenly than the Warg Lord who'd sent his eagle high into the sky or the two wolves who sat up tall and whose eyes never left the island even once.

"Dracarys," Rickon whispered, speaking the word the same time King Crow did or so Sarel would wager.

As one the flames came, two arcs of fire enveloped the House of Black and White and the island it sat upon. They never wavered. Never diminished in their intensity. For what felt like an hour but could surely not be so long, the flames fell on the large building and then the sound of the stone rang out as it collapsed on top of itself. For barely a moment, the flames stopped before they were let loose again. This time the heat of them even being felt from as far back as their boats were, given how men shielded their faces and some even rowed a little further from the island.

When they finally stopped being loosed, nothing remained of the building but a pile of molten stone. Sarel saw the Warg Lord nod and then watched as first the green dragon and then the golden one both landed on what remained of the island. He asked Ser Donnel for the Myrish Eye and looked through it to make sure King Crow was safe and well. Not that he doubted him, even without the two dragons that stood on either side of him. Looking through the Myrish Eye, he could see the eagle that belonged to Rickon Stark had landed and now rested on King Crow's shoulder. Sarel watched as King Crow moved to what looked to be a pile of molten rock and then spat down upon it. Then the eagle took flight and flew back to its master while King Crow moved to the green dragon and climbed on its back. The roar it let out was even louder than the one it had released earlier. This one was not one of warning, however. No, the roar it let out was one of triumph and as the green dragon took to the sky, Sarel heard the Warg Lord order them back to the city.

"For Arya." Rickon Stark said softly as Sarel handed Ser Donnel back the Myrish Eye.

The Kindly Man.

The day of reckoning had come and he'd not been ready for it. As much as he had feared it, prepared for it, he'd not been ready and many servants of the Many-Faced-God would lose their lives because of it. All he could do was pray that it would not be all and that in time, he'd eventually manage to do what thus far he'd failed to.

Each and every effort he'd made to bring down the dragon and the wolf had failed. No disguise was good enough and no sooner had one of those he sent managed to even land in Westeros, then they'd be heard from no more. Some weren't even lucky enough to make it to those shores and it mattered not to which destination they'd been sent. At first, The Kindly Man had thought that it was because he'd sent them to King's Landing and so he'd begun to change their destinations and bid them to travel and land further afield. Dorne, the Vale, even the North had seen them fall and so it had been to the West, Reach, and even once to the Iron Islands, that he'd sent them. Only for them to find their ends there too.

It made him question whether or not he was truly serving his god's purpose. Made him bemoan the fact that to remove Arya Stark from this world and to pay her for her faithlessness, he'd sent Jaqen rather than someone else. Though given that the girl's end had cost him Jaqen H'ghar, it was clear that no one else would have managed to take Arya Stark from this world. His former apprentice had bid him let the girl live. He'd said that it was folly and the Kindly Man had refused to listen to reason or argument.

Arya Stark had stolen from the Many-Faced-God. She'd denied him her service and had used their gifts not for their end, but for her own. She, as much as the two abominations that were her brothers, had to die. So Jaqen was sent and his task was accomplished, even though it cost him his own life to see that was so. Would that he had more like him to call upon. Had he, then he may have been able to remove Rickon Stark and Baelon Targaryen from the world before their eyes turned to the House of Black and White.

"What a fool I've been," he muttered as he ran through the corridors, closing doors behind him and racing for his life toward the entrance to the tunnels.

He'd thought he had more time. Had even begun to believe that the dragon would never look their way. Whispered words of a prophecy now resounded in his ears and the Kindly Man began to believe that he'd sought the wrong target first. Pride comes before a fall, or so they say. His own pride had been hurt by what Arya Stark had refused to do and so rather than take out the first and truest threat to their order, instead it was to one who'd shamed it that he'd looked. Not that he'd forgotten about Baelon Targaryen and so the Alchemist had left one task behind and sought to take on another. He had failed and with it and his own actions, the Kindly Man had brought the Doom upon their House.

"Master."

"There are too many."

"What are we to do?"

The voices rang out and seeing the tunnel entrance in front of him, he was finally able to offer an answer to those who were running for their lives just as he was.

"We leave this place and rebuild. In the shadows, we wait and when the time is right, we strike right at the heart of the beast," he said to some relieved and some disbelieving looks.

Climbing down the ladder to the tunnels below, he knew full well that those he'd set against the wolf had already failed. There was no need for him to look and see or be there to know that was true. Feeling the heat begin to rise and knowing full well what the reason for that was, he climbed even faster and soon his feet reached the ground. To his great relief, he was not the only one that did so and while it was a smaller number than it should be, it was a larger number than he had feared it might be.

"Come my children, we must leave this place and this city with haste. "

"Where will we go, Master."

"Far from here." was the only reply he could give.

Moving through the tunnels, the Kindly Man could hear the sounds of the House of Black and White as it crashed, melted, and was no more. Changing his face and bidding those with him to do likewise, he was now a Tyroshi rather than an old man or one with scraps of skin for a face. There was no white worm crawling from his eye and the face was not one he'd ever worn before. He simply couldn't take the chance he'd be recognized. For if he was, then the order died with him. That was not a thing he'd allow to pass and no prophecy could tell him otherwise.

" A man of death forged by the fire of dragons will bring about the Doom of your House" the old crone's voice cried out in his head.

Shaking the thought from his mind, they soon reached the crossroads and he bid them to leave him. It would be Lorath until he saw them again and he had no fear that they'd make their way across Essos unhindered. Once they left this city that was. Braavos was no longer the safe haven it had always been and the Kindly Man promised himself that he'd be paying a visit to the Sealord in the future.

"Go and do so with our god's favor," he said as he parted from the last of his acolytes. They were the future of his House and yet, even should they fall, as long as he breathed still, the House of Black and White could rebuild.

How long it took him to reach the exit, he knew not. Though seeing the light shine in, he felt it had been much more quickly than he'd expected it to be. A part of him wondered if he should wait until night fell, but he dismissed that idea. Far better he was long gone from Braavos when night did fall, as he'd sleep comfortably once he knew the dragon and wolf were left far behind him. No sooner had he walked out into the light than he knew he'd not ever sleep again.

At least fifty men surrounded him and he felt the crossbow bolts as they crashed into his legs and took his ability to walk from him. Moving his hands to his cloak, he tried to grab the vial and drink down the poison but the boot to the back of his head took that choice from his hands as well as his consciousness from him. When he finally awoke it was to see the last two people he had ever wished to lay eyes upon and to find that his and his acolytes' escape had been but a temporary reprieve.

"How?" he asked as he struggled against the bindings that tied him to the stake.

"You think we'd not planned for this and knew not of your escape plan." Baelon Targaryen mocked "When you go to war with death itself, you had better make sure you can beat it. It's a lesson that all of us who faced the Night King and his army learned all too well."

"So it's the fire I'm to face," he said, pulling against the stake and seeing what seemed to be the remnants of enough others to let him know that his acolytes had already faced fires of their own.

"No. Your crime was against the House of the Wolf, not the House of the Dragon." Rickon Stark said and the Kindly Man felt true fear then as the white and black wolf moved his way.

"For Arya. For Sam. For every life that you and your order took that deserved it not." Baelon said and then at a nod from him and his brother, the wolves began to feast on the Kindly Man's flesh.

It was not a quick death and the pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Then right at the end in his very last moments, he swore he heard a voice from another time and place. A voice that had enraged him and set him on the path that he now knew had led to him being the reason that a prophecy was fulfilled. Without what he'd done, they may have been left alone, because of what he'd set in motion, they never could be.

' A Girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell and I am going Home.'