[b]The Stands of Honor[/b]

Viserys sensed Taria's awkwardness and tried to set her at ease with a smile, "Fair lady, fret not. You're in the company of friends. You have nothing to be ashamed of here. Do you think my Lord Father was born a gentleman? Or the Hound? Ser Bronn? My Uncle Imp? Don't let the fine clothes and bright colors fool you, this is a court of folk from all walks of life. You have noble blood in you, you may stand with us any day." Viserys offered his arm and they walked, chatting about Taria's adventures and Viserys' duels and life growing up a dragon prince. He introduced her to Nymeria, a tall Dornish Princess with an hourglass figure and smooth caramel skin and bright brown eyes. She wore a golden sun circlet and was in conversation with several other exotic Dornish nobles. They all appraised Taria with approving smiles. 

Nymeria spoke in a voice smooth as honey, "Who is this my dear?" 

"Lady Taria, our Lord Commander Theon's natural-born daughter and adventurer extraordinaire." 

She tilted her head in interest, "Is that so? I hear you Ironborn are made of salt and iron. I should like to find out for myself one day. You seem a more sweet sort to me." She laughed and Viserys chuckled, "They do things differently down south my lady. I should introduce her to my brother. I shall see you at the feast my dear." 

Nymeria nodded, "Of course. And bring your friend with you." 

Viserys laughed again and led her to Aemon's table where he was engaged with Steffon, speaking with her as they walked, "Your Lord Father will be at the table beneath the bride and groom. I shall be there as well. I'd be in your debt if you would join us. And my wife would be pleased as well I think." 

Meanwhile Aemon and Steffon continued to converse. Aemon said, "War. A chilling proposition but it becomes ever more likely. And the enemies we have to wage it with are growing as well. The Vulture King, the Pirate King of the Stepstones, the Lord Captain of the Silence, the High Chieftain, the Sparrows, these are all true threats. I've had to put down more raiding parties from the Stepstones in the last month than I have in five years. And rumors abound that even more upstarts are rising throughout the kingdom. I fear after I take off my bridegroom cloak, I may have to buckle my sword belt." 

Julianna scolded him with a mirthful face and tut-tutted Steffon playfully, "Look what you've done my Lord. A conversation of only a few minutes and you've turned my husbands mind to war when it should be on family." Aemon laughed, "You are right of course my future queen. Today is a day for peace and love, not war. Thank you for your continued support of the Iron Throne Steffon, and the help of Jenn. She has made a fine companion to my siblings. Once this business with the east is done, I intend to put your rebellious kinsman in chains or see him decorate a spike." Aemon began to relax, chatting amicably about past experiences as children in the Red Keep. 

They were all smiles when Viserys strode up with Taria. Aemon greeted her nobly, embracing Taria as if she were a long-lost friend while Julianna did the same. They both had fond memories of Theon and seemed quite happy to converse with his daughter. Aemon introduced Taria to Steffon and Jenn and they all chatted of matters of much lesser importance for a time. Eventually Daenyra came with her husband Monterys, the Princess holding a babe in her arms. The two young Valyrians cut a striking couple with their silver hair and violet eyes. The babe, a boy who had just turned one today, stared at the world with one sapphire eye and another emerald. Such a trait hadn't been seen in generations and a strange atmosphere followed the boy. 

Daenyra smiled at Steffon, leaning in to allow him to kiss her hand and greeting him as a long time friend while offering a sincere well wish to Taria. Viserys offered the Ironborn a cup of wine, "See? We're not all so intimidating are we? Give our life a try for a bit, you might find you like it. And if not, you should take me with you next time you go to sea. I haven't had a proper sea voyage in quite some time." 

Tyrion for his part continued his pleasant chat with Willas, both cripples but both among the most powerful men in the Kingdom, "You have a very practical way of looking at things my Lord. I daresay your Lady Grandmother would be most pleased, may she rest in peace. You've a fine head for politics, one of the finest I've seen. If you weren't so bloody good with money you could have been an excellent Master of Laws. Myself, I believe we should continue to wait and see but our regents may be forced to go to war. The Queen declared the Bay of Dragons a Protectorate of the Iron Throne and she would be honor bound to go to its defense if the Slavers or the Great Khal threaten it again. Though considering the size of Drogon, she might be just fine on her own. As for the Essosi war, I wish it were that simple. Braavos will weather the storm just fine but Pentos, Lorath, Norvos, and Qohor are all caught right between the Three Daughters and Volantis. War will do them no favors and that will do us no favors. Either way, the war must be stopped whatever side wins." 

Tyrion leaned in, "Would your family honor us with a place near the Lannister table? I believe it is finally time for the Roses and Lions to be public allies and not just private friends. Our lands are neighbors after all and we are among the richest, most powerful families in the Kingdom. It would go a long way to showing unity and brotherhood in these troubled times if Lannister and Tyrell sat together at the table of friendship in sight of the High Lords of the realm. What say you, my Lord? My friend?"  

Just as they finished their deliberation the heir to the Vale approached Tyrion. Tyrion smiled widely, "Ah, the famous Black Falcon. We meet at last. I am honored. Yes indeed, I met your father once. I'm afraid he soured on me after that. He was very disappointed I would not fly for him. I should introduce you to my sons, you are of an age, you should all get along splendidly. I can see this is your first visit to the Capital, I hope we made a good impression. A fine animal you have Mychel, I am envious. Lions may be magnificent, but they've proven to be quite impractical as sigil animals go. You can't have one perch on your shoulder like a bird of prey. You can't have them walk by your side like a Direwolf. You can't ride one like a Dragon, even though Dragons are far more dangerous. You can't even eat them like a stag or a fish. Even a rose you can touch without being gored. You'd be surprised how many Lannisters try to tame a lion for a personal pet. It's perhaps the leading cause of Lannister deaths." 

Tyrion then introduced Mycel to Willas and they had a stimulating conversation on the politics of the realm though Tyrion purposefully avoided many of the more pressing and volatile situations arising. Eventually Tyrion said, "I'm thoroughly surprised by you Mychel. No offense meant, but I expected Lord Robin's heir to have an entirely different disposition. I'm glad I was wrong, an exceedingly rare occasion indeed. Your family will of course be seated among the high tables. You may sit with the Lannisters as our guest. And if it strikes your fancy to stay at the Red Keep, I'm sure arrangements could be made. What do you think about that?" 

As Malrik kneeled before Daenerys, the Queen of Westeros smiled radiantly at him and bid him rise with a pale hand, "Please ser, the honor is mine. It is a rare thing to find so valiant a knight, even among the noble families. I am in your debt for your quick assistance of my husband. It would please me greatly if you would be my guest at the feast." Daenerys let him process this, knowing he could not and would not refuse. Then she stood and walked down to him to speak, "I am in need of fine, true men and I believe I have found one. If you agree, I would have you enter my service as a sworn shield. All of you needs would be provided for and you would shield my family the way you shielded my husband. And if the call to greatness calls you elsewhere, you may take your leave again. What say you ser?" 

As William left, Sansa had to smile ruefully. Her ward always infuriated her, brought out a nasty side to her. But she couldn't help but laugh in fondness at the memory of the boy she had raised. He had not grown the way she had hoped, and she knew she had to keep steering him away from his anger. She did not want him to end up like his father and grandfather. Meanwhile a far less sympathetic hand clamped down on William's shoulder, he turned to see the Hound, greying but intimidating as always, looking down at him, "Bolton. I saw what happened. Sansa has a soft spot for you, if you can believe it, and gods only know why she's kept you from being beheaded all these years. I feel much differently about you than she. If I hear you speak that way to her again, I'll try my hand at recreating your sigil. Do you understand?"

[b]The Fairground[/b] (collab with [@kingkonrad])

Tom bowed to Alerie, his brothers following suit, and the heir to Casterly Rock kissed her hand in supplication; the boy had learned much it seemed and was no longer the mere child he had been when last he saw the lady "My lady, you are magnificent as ever, in truth you are even more beautiful than last I remember. You are a more enchanting site than all the gold in the West." Tytos and Tywin offered twin smiles, Tytos who was only distinguishable by his curly gold hair as opposed to his brother's wavy hair said, "Our brother speaks truly. I don't believe we've met my lady. I am Tytos, squire to Lord Jaime and this is my brother Tywin." Tom continued, "Have you talked to our sister? Julianna and you are acquantied if I remember correctly? She would be pleased to see you at the feast." 

Alerie bowed, as they kissed her hand, smiling. She knew that Jahaerys was close, so didn't try and veer too far, as she nodded to Tom, knowing she had.
"Not as golden as your locks, Lord Tom!  She added, as she turned to the twins.

"Glad to meet you both." She said, her voice fair and pleasant, wavy and nice, as she knew Tom had certainly grown himself, as she blushed a little. How far men would go for affection, she thought to herself. Jahaerys was being beaten into the ground by Tom, and if it wasn't for the fact that right now, Jahaerys was more politically useful to her than Tom was, in the short-term at least, she'd happily have spent the rest of the evening at House Lannister's table. But if this game was to be played, then it was to be played, not for fun but for something a little more. She didn't know she wanted, or what her house needed, or entirely what the state of play was it. It was blurred, unclear...deliberate. But she knew she'd figure it out, what would come, and chances were, it was nothing.
"I imagine so, I'd like to meet her again...it has been quite a long time." 

Jahaerys approached Ellion and extended his arm, a smile on his face, "Voshcaris doesn't bite. Not when she's full at any rate. But that was finely struck on the field my lord. My brother is not used to losing and seeing him humbled in such fashion was a treat. I am Prince Jahaerys, your sister has been keeping me company." Princess Baella, a mirror image of her mother at the same age, sidled up to Ellion with a grin, "I've always heard the Tyrell lads were comely, but the tales don't do them justice. Perhaps I should compose a ballad about it. How do you like our city thus far my lord?" 

Ellion looekd at Jahaerys, shaking the Targaryen's arm, with Baela close by his side .He wasn't anything formidable, he felt chivalrous and noble, but he'd break easily in a fight, he could already read him. Not like Tom, or even Tytos, he seemed....well, he just didn't feel easy with it.  Even Ellion, a chivalrous and noble Knight, had his vice, and it was because even the shiniest armour had to have a scratch to remind it's wearer of use. Jahaerys looked like a brand new breastplate, that had never even taken a single touch of a practice blade.
"A pleasure to meet you, Prince Jahaerys. I'm glad to see Alerie kept you company. Princess Baela, you look rather lovely too." He said, feeling her sidle up, knowing that if Merebelle had looked back, it would have cracked her back. Baela was lovely, her white hair reminding him of Danaerys, signficantly so. 

And yet Ellion didn't have a huge interest in ladies of High Valyrian blood...nor men, for some reason. He didn't know what it was, but whilst he adored the fire and the exoticness they possessed, they were still mortal human beings, and had everything to be cocky about. Any boy or girl with a dragon is more powerful than the best Knight....and not by right, he thought to himself. Yet they seemed pleasant to him. He'd chase Baela, if he wasn't already chasing not one, but possibly two people already, in the space of about half an hour. Past experience taught him you don't mix too many people. You especially don't mix a Princess, the heir to the Vale, and a Knight in the service of House Tully, in one evening.....though, he'd almost made the eight, and that would round another two out in quick succesion. No, that was stupid, he reminded himself. He could flaunt himself at lowborn girls that literally came to him and didn't care if they harboured bastards. Not at royalty, or people like this.

"Ha, I suppose we have that trait in our lands, we can't help it! I suppose for such a great tourney as this, it makes sense to give the commoners a show and be pretty...and well, I am glad to hear of it. As are you, Baela. Your dress fits nicely." He said, smirking and cracking a gentle laugh, reminding himself. Don't fucking chat her up. You're in too deep as it is, you fucking idiot, he said to himself. Or he was doing it to the wrong people? He didn't know entirely....but with some women, he knew how to juggle it all, with some MEN, he knew how to juggle, with some, he had not a clue. 

Baella, sensing his apprehensiveness, gave him a knowing smile, "I'm glad you noticed my lord. The finest imported Lysene silk. Though, take care my Lady Aunt not catch you watching too closely. She has eyes everywhere they say." Baella laughed, a sweet musical sound and her eyes glinted when she caught sight of two approaching figures. "Speaking of, here come a few now. Cousins!" The lady, around the same age as Baella or Alerie was dressed in black and yellow. She was tall for her age, almost as tall as Ellion, with night black hair and clear blue eyes. Her features were strong, not classically beautiful as the bards would describe but alluring in their own way. She had a solemn countenance, and was the complete opposite of Baella in form and demeanor. The lady smiled softly and inclined her head, "My lord. We've never met. I am Catelyn." The youth, looked like her brother and was much the same. He was as tall as Ellion, with coal hair that hung down to his broad shoulders. His eyes were blue, but he had the sharp features of a Stark. He was bedecked in dark plate with a yellow surcoat, and had the look of someone who had recently scrubbed away copious amounts of mud. He shook Ellion's hand in a meaty grip, and Ellion could feel the strength and training behind it, "My lord. My name is Robb. I have heard much about you." Baella smiled, holding Catelyn's hand, "Their lord father is the Storm Bull and their lady mother you no doubt know as well. What brings you cousins?" 

"Robb here was defeated by your brother in the melee and after he spent so long sulking in the tent, I decided to bring him out into the sun; though now he practically brings a storm over this field. I see you introduced them to your dragons." Baella grinned, "Jahaerys' idea I swear. Now Ellion, Cat, is unmarried and she has a tendency to intimidate her suitors. But you are a brave strong knight aren't you." Baella laughed and Cat rolled her eyes, the two girls contrasting each other markedly. Baella slim and sunny where Cat was tall and stormy. She looked at Ellion with an enigmatic gaze and perhaps the hint of a smile. Robb for his part shook his head in amusement, "My cousin corrupted my sister horribly I fear. But you, Ellion, any warrior who bested Viserys is a fine warrior indeed. Perhaps we should have a bout soon. My hammer versus your sword? The Golden Rose versus the Grey Stag? A proper duel for the songs I say." 

Meanwhile Rhaenys and her gang of children had approached the group and Tom greeted them with a genuine smile. He turned to Alerie, "I shall reintroduce you at the feast. And you'd be delighted to meet the Crown Prince I'm sure. I'll ask my father if a place can be made at our table for you my lady. I'd be honored by your presence. A golden rose among the golden lions." Jahaerys, noticing Tom's flirtations, nodded politely at his cousins and said to Alerie, "The young lord learned much from Uncle Jaime. But Uncle Jaime couldn't teach him how to fly I'm afraid." He smiled and reached out to Alerie, "What say you my lady. Would you fancy a flight? Voshcaris needs to stretch her wings either way." 

The sight of Robb and Catelyn Baratheon, a pair that stood at Ellion's lofty height, was a sight to see, the very charcoal black against the blondes and browns and whites a....Stark difference, perhaps. Ellion felt definitely taken aback by Cat, she felt like she had a presence, and not in the way Lyvia Clegane did. A certain feminine charm, wrapped under her Northern and Stormlander heritage. Whilst the Stormlanders and Reachmen were neighbours, the differences in climate, landscape and ethos made them very different indeed, and the Stark blood that ran in both of them was significant. Cat did feel like a dark rainstorm, compared to the pleasant demeanour of Baela. He replied, after shaking Robb's firm grip, his handshake firm yet not like that one. 

"Pleasure to meet you, Catelyn. And yourself, Robb. I'm humbled by your presence." Ellion replied, Robb's hearty and deep voice clear to hear- if the houses Stark and Baratheon ever desired a son that espoused it's valour and pure anger, then he felt it in the very way that Robb seemed to live and breathe, though of course, that was when a man like him was angered. Right now, he seemed like he was in good spirits, albeit a little bitter.

Before Ellion even had the chance to reply, Alerie already came by Ellion's side, smriking.
"Yes, that would be the case, right Ellion?" She said, grinning and giggling, as she looked to Cat, with a particular gaze, knowing she'd understand that she was winding him up a little.

"Oh but of course... Chivalrous, good with a blade, good looks. I suppose the Seven did give me a good shot at this whole Knight buisness. Cat seems lovely to me, Baela. A storm is a lovely thing to witness when you see it...because there's always a rainbow after it passes and the sun comes back out. There is beauty in this world everywhere where you choose to look." He replied, a little poetic at the end, just a little irritated by Alerie, though he knew she got a kick out of it sometimes, as he nodded to Robb. Ellion's way with words could sometimes pick up, but he knew he was no wordsmith, not like his sister.

"I'll take you up on that some time, Robb. What good is the prettiest and shiniest armour when you can't put a few scratches into it from a sword, I say." He added, as Alerie backed away, turning to Jahaerys and Tom, seeing that both of them were gagging for her affection. It was such a simply presented choice, but it had a lot riding on it, and Alerie could already tell she'd caught the gaze of two incredibly differently powerful men. But she had an idea. Well, if Tom would see through it, at least, she hoped he would.

"A ride on a dragon...you do know how to please, Jahaerys...I couldn't turn that down. I shall see you later, Lord Tom." She said, as she followed him to Voshcaris, turning her head almost like an owl, and winking strongly at Tom, with a wry and firm smile on her face to reinforce the fact that she had known what he said. It was almost a spitting look at him, to almost say that she was still interested, just that the moment had forced her hand, she couldn't say no to the Targaryen in that moment...but later, she could, and she'd chase the Lannister if she had to.

Tom, clever lad as he was, took Alerie's meaning instantly and winked back, the flecks of gold in his eyes gleaming. He turned his attention back to his brothers and engaged in spirited conversation. Meanwhile Jahaerys, toook Alerie's hand in his and lead her to Voscharis. Named after one of the old Valyrian gods, she struck a mighty profile indeed and inclined her head regally as Jahaerys and Alerie approached.  Rhaenys and Baella, exchanging looks, departed as well signaling the squires to saddle the dragons. 

As the Targaryens readied their mounts, Cat smiled at Ellion, "My, your words are almost as pretty as you are. A new Knight of Flowers I daresay." Robb laughed aloud, "Hopefully his swordsmanship is as good as his looks. I haven't had a proper duel in ages." Cat nudged her brother, "What about your duel with Ned?" Robb guffawed, "Ned? That wasn't a duel, that was a slaughter. He's the godsdamned Sword of the Morning, Cat. Aye, I roughed him up a fair amount but he's invincible with Dawn." Cat, arched a brow, "True, the only one I ever saw fight him to a draw was Uncle Jon with Lightbringer. I've never seen him lose." Robb smiled ruefully, "It's good for the competition that he didn't enter the melee. But enough about him. You should share the high table with us at the feast Ellion. I'll have a proper knight to talk to, what say you?" 

The Targaryen's finished their preparations and the three siblings mounted their dragons. Jahaerys helped Alerie into the saddle and climbed aboard himself, "Hold on my lady." He looked back at her and grinned, really looking alive now, and stroked Voscharis' neck before whispering in High Valyrian, "Soves." With that command Voshcaris flapped her powerful wings and took off. Starfyre and Lyrax followed. Dozens of the children on the ground exclaimed in wonder and ran after the flying dragons in shouts of excitement while many onlookers raised their hands to point and cheer as the dragons flew overhead. Voscharis picked up height and speed, and the world began to shrink beneath them as the wind flew through their hair. Jahaerys laughed as they rose. 

They could see everything. The Kingsroad with the hundreds of travellers who still plodded down the road into the city. The markets bursting with goods and people. The Kingswood and its verdant growth. Blackwater Bay and the hundreds of ships that drifted into port, and the Red Keep overlooking it all. Jahaerys took them around the city, and started showing off, rolling and twisting through the air in perfect unison with his sisters, flying free as birds. Then they glided on the wind and Jahaerys turned back, "How does it compare to horse riding my lady?" 

He grinned and then they dove, Voscharis pulling in her wings and heading for the sea while Jahaerys laughed like a madman, changing from the eloquent academic to the daredevil. The water was just about to swallow them until Voscharis pulled up and spread her wings, her claws skimming the water as Jahaerys  waved to the sailors on the ships who waved back enthusiastically. Jahaerys steered them back to the tourney grounds, and the lists where the court sat as the latest joust was being cleared. Voscharis flew over the ground, casting a large shadow on the field before letting out a long lance of flame into the air with a roar. Her fire was a deep scarlet with a heart of bright red. The other dragons perched around the field roared back and shot their flames into the air and a racous cheer filled the field. 

Finally, Jahaerys steered them back to the fair grounds and set them down gently and masterfully. He slipped gracefully from the saddle and helped Alerie down with a huge grin, "It's the best feeling in the world, my lady, the best."  

[b]The Stands[/b]

Visenya nodded with a smile, taking her seat with Aerion's men. She had a wineskin and shared it among herself and Aerion while chatting about what had transpired since they parted ways, [color=purple] "Your Lady Lyvia is quite the fighter ser. She took on the Lords of the Trident and the Lightning Lord all. I half expected her to challenge Jeor next but only then did she succumb. It was impressive, I could use soldiers like her in the Dragon's Teeth." [/color] She looked at Lyvia with no small amount of curiosity and a touch of playfulness, "Last I saw her, she could barely walk. It seems Cleganes get back on their feet easily." She left no sign of whether she knew about Daenyra or not, Aerion couldn't be sure. Visenya moved on [color=purple] "We had some excitement ourselves. A proper brawl right in my favorite tent. A true shame, they had good ale. But then again it might have been for the best. William proposed to me you know." [/color] Visenya laughed, a strong chuckle, with just a flush of embarrassment, [color=purple] "I've know him since we were both babes you know? Sansa took him to the Red Keep often when she wasn't North. We trained together, studied together with my cousins. I taught him how to string a bow, he taught me how to wield a dagger. He was always something of a cad, always pissing off everyone he ever met, including me. But still, I had been the one who had to mind him when we were children. I still do. That must have been the hundredth brawl I watched his back in. Though one of the only ones he didn't start himself. I am fond of him strangely.[/color] Visenya smiled, thinking of herself as a girl, when everything had seemed simpler. [color=purple]" But marriage? I didn't know what to say, especially since he was terribly drunk. Especially since I can't know whether he was serious, whether he was having me on or not. I probably would have started that brawl myself to avoid answering. He put me in a terribly awkward position. But he is William. I seem to have a talent for attracting rogues. Though I suppose bastards don't often attract gentlemen. Present company excluded of course my lord. " [/color] Visenya smiled and drank, internally cursing herself somewhat for speaking so much. The drink had loosened her tongue far more than she liked. She steered the conversation towards much less awkward matters, telling him of some adventures had as Commander of the Dragon's Teeth and childhood misadventures she had with the princes and other highborn children. 

[color=purple] "....Daenerys was furious but Jon only laughed. Arya just stared at us as usual. But Sansa! Sansa didn't talk to me for a month! She couldn't even look at me without turning red. Suffice to say Aemon, Steffon, William, Julianna, and I were forbidden to go the ball." [/color] Visenya laughed again and sighed leaning in unconsciously to Aerion before catching herself and sitting up. Her hand had gotten perilously close to his and she tried to not notice as they watched the tourney. The days competition were drawing to a close with the slow setting of the sun and it would soon be time to head to the Red Keep for the biggest feast in a decade. The only competition still ongoing was the grand melee which Visenya watched with much excitement, cheering loudly as King Jon and the Prince fought with vigor against all their opponents. 


[b]The Melee[/b] (collab with [@Nightwing95]) 

Jon and Rhaegar fought and fought and fought, knocking down warriors and knights and high lords, keeping on horseback all the while. The last few contenders decided to make an alliance against the father and son duo and tried their hardest to unseat the royals. But to no avail. As the last opponent was helped off the field by his squire, the King of the Iron Throne stared at his son as both rode their mounts directly across from one another across the field. Their armor was caked in mud, riddled with dents and scratches. His heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, his lungs desperately tried to inhale air through the slits in his helm. For a moment Jon lifted his visor, and took in a breath as father and son measured each other. Rhaegar seemed just as tired as he, just as weary and fatigued. But Jon knew he would not yield, would not give up. He would fight till one of them could fight no longer. He was his son, and Jon had never been prouder of him. With the barest tilt of his head, he nodded at his son, and slammed his visor back into place as they rode.

Jon readied his sword and stirred his mount into action. Most of the barding had torn and ripped during the battle, but the destrier stayed faithful and pounded through the mud at Rhaegar on his own steed. Jon raised his sword as Rhaegar charged at him. Time seemed to slow, and the beat of his heart, and the thunder of his own breath, crowded out all noise; even the rabid cheering of the gallery. It seemed to take an eternity for his blade to stretch fully to the sky, another lifetime passed as his black mount thundered through the dirt and muck, until father and son were close enough to embrace. Jon stared right into his son's helmeted face, his horse kept galloping beneath him as they passed each other, and his sword descended straight on to Rhaegar's shield. 

The Prince buckled in his seat but somehow managed to stay atop his horse. Jon wheeled around and his destrier lashed out with a steel shod hoof. Unbelievably, Rhaegar turned and took the blow on his shield, but this time the force threw him out of the saddle and into the mud, his horse galloping away. Some part of Jon told him to wait, to give Rhaegar time to collect himself. But another shouted at him to attack. Rhaegar's foes would not hesitate in true battle. If Jon wanted his son to survive war, neither would he. Jon urged his horse forward and slashed at Rhaegar, but his son avoided his attack and found his ground. Rhaegar thrust at Jon as he passed, but the king expertly parried the blow. 

Jon steered his horse for another pass, his sword high, and charged full ahead at Rhaegar who held his shield high. Jon struck at Rhaegar, expecting for his son to deflect the blow on his shield. But he was wrong. Instead Rhaegar dodged the swipe and struck at Jon with his sword, catching him in the abdomen with a mighty blow as the destrier continued to sprint. The blade was blunted, but the force of the blow sent Jon flying from the saddle and onto his back. 

He lay in the mud, the breath leaving him as Rhaegar advanced, cautiously; shield and sword up. Jon quickly found his feet and held his sword in both hands. Jon slowly stepped to the right; his son mirroring him as they circled each other slowly. Seeing who would strike first. The field waited with bated breath. Rhaegar had all the defensive advantages. He knew the techniques, knew the stances, the footwork. If he waited for Jon, waited for an opponent with no shield to charge and flail at him, he would almost certainly win. But he was young, full of daring and courage, and impatient. Jon knew his son, and waited. He did not have to wait long. Rhaegar charged Jon, shield forward. 

A lesser opponent might have retreated, fallen back. But Jon stood his ground, and with both hands, struck. He slashed and thrust and cut at Rhaegar as he charged. Rhaegar was kept at a distance and forced to huddle under his shield as Jon hammered him rapidly with blow after blow. Jon was not as strong or fast as he had once been, but he still struck quickly and with vigor; and he knew Rhaegar's arm was growing numb from each repeated strike. Jon moved even faster, dodging and avoiding all of the strikes Rhaegar did manage to make, giving Rhaegar no time to think or rest as he struck him again and again. Jon wanted to frustrate his son, infuriate him. He was one of the most gifted natural fighters he ever saw, but even the best made mistakes when angry. 

After an eternity of pounding Rhaegar's shield like a hammer on a bellows, suddenly Jon stepped back, feigning fatigue. Rhaegar seized the chance, raising his sword for an overhand blow. Jon sidestepped the move and slashed upwards, catching the sword in the crossguard and knocking it right out of Rhaegar's hands. Rhaegar turned swiftly and took cover under his shield, as Jon renewed his assault. Rhaegar was forced back, stepping backward as Jon's flurry of cuts and slashes aimed to tire him so much that Rhaegar dropped his shield. 

Rhaegar's arms did not give, but his leg did. He slipped in the mud and fell to one knee, shield above him. Jon cut down with all his strength and Rhaegar's shield fell to his side, exposing his chest. Jon heard him grunt, but his shield did not rise again. Jon's sword raised then descended for another blow on Rhaegar's chestplate to knock the wind out of him and finish the fight. 

As Jon's sword fell, suddenly Rhaegar's shield lifted from the mud and crashed into Jon's hands, knocking his blade out of his grip and flying into the mud. Surprise mingled with pride, as Rhaegar stood wearily and planted his feet. Jon's hands flashed to his belt and drew two dirks. Unlike other weapons, dirks in melees were as sharp as the real thing. Jon silently thanked the shade of an enemy long dead for motivating him to learn such techniques. This time, Jon charged at Rhaegar, knives flashing. One dirk forced Rhaegar to keep his shield up, but with the other Jon wormed his way around Rhaegar's guard. Instead of striking, Jon cut the straps of the shield to disarm Rhaegar entirely. 

His son surprised him again. While he was occupied, Rhaegar viciously struck with an armored gauntlet directly onto Jon's helm. Jon reeled back. Wielding his strapless, battered shield like a club, Rhaegar pounded Jon like a drum. Jon could not strike, and tried to shield his face with his arm. Rhaegar charged forward and forced Jon to his knees with blow after blow. One of his dirks went flying into the mud. 

Rhaegar raised his shield high above his head to strike Jon in the helm as he struggled to one knee. But Jon's hand flashed and the dirk flew through the air at Rhaegar. Rhaegar moved his shield, and the blade embedded itself in the wood. Jon jumped under Rhaegar's guard and shoved Rhaegar to the ground, sending both of them to the mud with Jon on top. Rhaegar tried to keep the shield between them, but Jon grabbed the shield, punched Rhaegar in the helm, and wrenched it out of his hands. The shield was practically splinters at that point, and Jon tried to wrench his blade free of it but could not. 

Instead, Jon battered his son again and again. "Yield!" He shouted. Again and again, he yelled it to the heavens. Silently he pleaded with his son to yield his ambition. Do not be a Kingsguard my son. Do not swear your honor to eternal duty. Do not throw away your chance for love and children. Do not throw away your life before it has truly begun. Jon said all this and more, though not aloud, as he bashed his son repeatedly, yelling at him to yield. He hammered him endlessly, but still he did not yield, Rhaegar kept struggling beneath Jon's weight, trying to shove Jon off or shield himself. And Jon realized that Rhaegar's armor would rust and fall to pieces before his resolve fled. His skin would wrinkle and fall from his bones before his honor gave. And his heart would fail long before his spirit did. As he raised the shield for another blow, Jon looked at his son, saw the dirk lying in the mud nearby, and though the world did not know, he waited. Just the smallest of moments. 

Rhaegar's hand slipped around the handle of the dirk as the shield descended again. Rhaegar blocked the blow on his arm, and thrust the blade at Jon; forcing Jon to roll off of Rhaegar who caught Jon's leg with an arm and pulled himself over Jon. Rhaegar's fist clanged into Jon's helm and his hand wrenched up Jon's visor as Rhaegar held the dirk over it. 

"Yield" Rhaegar said, though it was barely a whisper, as he struggled to breath. 

Though he did not see it, Jon smiled, "I yield." 

The dagger fell from Rhaegar's hands and he collapsed to the ground next to his father, and both lay exhausted and near-comatose in the mud. The cheer of the gallery was earth-shattering and overtook all noise, even Jon's own labored breathing in his helm, even the beat of his heart. His son had won the day and beneath the bruises he was all smiles. 

Corlys came running to Rhaegar's side while his own squires helped him up. The crowds were still cheering as they rose and cheered even louder when Jon held up Rhaegar's battered arm in front of them. Jon turned to his son, calling to his squire, "Sword." 

The field suddenly quieted as his squire brought him Lightbringer in it's scabbard. Jon removed his helm as Rhaegar did his and Jon said, "Kneel." Rhaegar knelt in the mud and averted his eyes to the ground, an easy task as he already had trouble standing. 

Jon drew Lightbringer and a rainbow of dazzling colors lit the muddy field and sprayed sunlight of all shades into the sky. Despite his wounds he stood tall and proud. He laid the blade that slew the Night's King on his son's shoulder and said the words, "Prince Rhaegar, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to be wise and just, to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women, to shield the young and innocent, to face death free of fear, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely and with honor when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" 

"I swear it by the old gods and new." 

With tears in his eyes Jon said, "Arise Prince Rhaegar, the Bold Dragon, and let all know you as a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!" The resulting cheer was even louder than the first as knights and warriors drew their swords and roared in approval as ladies threw down streamers of silk and dragons roared fire to the heavens. Jon slid Lightbringer back into the scabbard and embraced his son on the field for all to see. It was one of the happiest moments in his life. 

[b]The Small Council Chamber[/b] 

As the lords and ladies of the realm streamed into the Red Keep for the festivities, one small group of people was apart from the festivities. King Jon, now in a white doublet sat at the head of the table next to Queen Daenerys. All the members of the Small Council were present. The Mistress of Whispers Arya and the Justiciar Sansa sat near Jon as Tyrion took his place as Hand of the King and Lord Commander Podrick sat near him in his white armor. Grand Maester Samwell Tarly with his heavy chain and black robes sat with a contraption he called spectacles perched on his nose. Grand Admiral Asha and Lord Treasurer Willas were present as well as the Master of War and Lord Marshall, Ser Gendry Baratheon. Ser Davos Seaworth and Ser Jorah Mormont were among the special advisors, though Daenyra and Aemon were both absent. 

King Jon drummed his fingers impatiently, "We can wait no longer. We must begin. My lords, my ladies, I-" 

The door burst open and Aurane Velaryon, Lord of the Stepstones, swaggered in with a saber at his hip, a large feathery hat on his head, and a facetious grin on his face, "Your grace. Your grace. Sorry I'm late. Rebellions are no party I can assure you and I came as swiftly as I could." 

Jon nodded, indicating for Aurane to sit, "Thank you for coming Lord Aurane. My friends, as I was saying; I have grave news to report. Those Stepstoners who attacked me today carried the severed head of one Ser Hugh." 

Aurane tsked, "Hugh. Brave lad. A little dim. But loyal and comely, with plenty of manners. I sent him to treat with the rebels. It seems we received their answer." 

"Just so. The message is clear. Abandon dominion of the Stepstones or the deaths will continue. Displace all of the mainland Westerosi or the rebellion will continue. Save for you Aurane, they will let you keep Torturer's Deep." 

"How generous of them." 

Daenerys interjected, "A ridiculous proposition. The Islands are the third largest center of Essosi migration after the Crownlands and the Trident. My followers have homes there. I will not uproot them for the sake of these pirates." 

Jon grimly nodded again, "I agree. We have the numbers and we have dragons. Capitulation is not an option, not if we wish to protect ourselves from these emerging threats. We cannot yield to rebels. Arya, your findings." 

Arya spoke, "After extensive investigation of the corpses by Sam, and interrogation of the prisoners by myself we have concluded these men work directly for the Pirate King. We also have a possible location. Bloodstone. We believe there is a hidden cove where the rebel lords are in hiding, directing the violence. We believe the ringleader to be one of the deposed Pirate Lords though we aren't yet sure who." 

Jorah said, "Send your dragons, your grace. Burn these rogues root and stem and let the smoke be seen across all the isles. Send a message." 

Davos shook his head, "No, send in the Dragon's Teeth. Sneak in their hold. Gather hostages and information to bring all the other rebels to heel." 

Gendry interjected, "We should send the fleets and the armies. Blockade and invade Bloodstone while other forces sweep across the Isles with help from the navies and Aurane's men." Asha nodded in agreement. 

Sansa spoke up, "We've tried protracted war in the Stepstones before. It hasn't worked. The rebels never completely go away even after decades of fighting." 

Gendry didn't give in, "They've never faced the full might of the Iron Throne before. We will police the islands until their rebellious spirit is finally broken." 

Tyrion said, "And they won't face the full might of the Iron Throne. We have much more pressing enemies at home. Lord Pyke and his Silence. The Vulture King. The Sparrows and the Brotherhood. The Mountain Clans. We are beset by enemies." 

Arya nodded, "Perhaps even more than we think. I've heard whispers of Gardener and Durrandon pretenders arising in the Reach and Stormlands. And the possible resurgence of the Reynes to retake Castamere. The Children of the Forest suggest that with the resurgence of magic dark forces are stirring throughout the land once more. Monsters and beasts straight from nightmare and legend. Ones we haven't faced before." She nodded to a hooded figure who sat in the corner of the room far from everyone else, "And our friend here, tells me that tensions stir far north. Walkers who are uneasy with the peace. Rumors of another King Beyond The Wall, an inhuman cannibal who seeks to march south to raid and burn. Suffice to say that we will be in need of swords in every corner of the realm. We cannot spare much to face the Stepstone rebellions. I have a sneaking suspicion that all of these rebellions are connected somehow, all part of some grander purpose or conspiracy." 

Sansa creased her brow, "What purpose?" 

"That I do not yet know for sure, but it seems that all of these disparate forces might somehow be coordinating. I will find out for sure." 

Aurane frowned, "Either way I need reinforcements. Even with Salladhor's help, I cannot hold the Stepstones unless I get more men. Otherwise we will lose everything outside of Torturer's Deep. We need the royal fleet." 

Samwell spoke, "Unfortunately, we must keep the fleet close at hand to discourage raiders from the Three Daughters. They are becoming increasingly daring and the Triarchs do nothing to stop them." 

Gendry glowered, "What do you suggest then? Do nothing? Waste the deaths of thousands?" 

The discussion soon became heated, the lords and ladies arguing and trading barbs until Jon slammed his fist on the table, "Enough." The Council soon quieted. 

"We can't do nothing. If we wait, our enemies will become too strong. We can afford to ignore Essos for the time being but we must put our house in order. Losing the Stepstones to rebels is not an option but we cannot ignore the problems on the mainland either." 

Tyrion inclined his head, "What would you have us do Jon?" 

"Aurane, I'll have Monterys send the Driftmark fleet to support yours. As well as the Dragonstone armada. Between them all that's close to two hundred and fifty ships, filled with Mother's Legionnaires and Driftmark and Dragonstone men-at-arms. Sellsail fleets with as many companies we can hire will follow. Davos will have the command of the armada. The gold fleet and the other narrow sea fleets will stay close at hand. The Queen and I will fly south and burn their strongholds outside of Bloodstone, force them to flee. Aemon will have the regency but, I trust you all to help him in his duties. Meanwhile, Visenya shall lead an elite expedition ahead of the main invasion force. While the armies cleanse the islands, her force will infiltrate Bloodstone and capture their leaders alive. We will hold them hostage and force them to accept our peace." 

"As for the others, Tyrion I charge you with attempting to diplomatically negotiate with the hillmen. They listened to you before, perhaps they will do so again. If not, give Robin whatever support we can to pacify them, take hostages and force them to bend the knee. Arya, identify who these rising pretenders might be and attempt to nonviolently end their rebellions before they begin. As for the Sparrows and the Brotherhood, I want the rest of the Dragon's Teeth and the Night Riders to deploy into the Riverlands and stop them. Contact the Children and their Green Men for help. Have the High Septon denounce their actions and turn the peasantry against them. Gendry, Willas, raise your marcher banners. With the Dornish, I want you to take the fight to the Vulture King and retake Hellgate Hall. Asha, your Iron Fleet in conjunction with the Westerland, Trident, and Reach Fleets will destroy or capture all the rogue Reavers including Lord Pyke. And Sansa, tell Bran to ready his own banners. The time may come when he must stand with the Night's Watch to face enemies beyond the wall. With Empires tearing apart Essos, we needs must end these issues before they weaken us. Then we can face the East as a united front." 

Samwell spoke first, "Jon, the Brotherhood and Sparrows are both widespread. It would take almost all of the Dragon's Teeth and Night Riders to track them across the country. Who would be left to accompany Visenya?" 

Podrick stood, "I will accompany Lady Visenya, the fate of the realm is at stake." 

Tyrion smiled wanly, "A gallant display, but Visenya will need more than one man, and we can't very well send the whole Kingsguard when the royal family still needs protection." 

Jon nodded, "We will assemble a force. As many as we can find. Either the best or those who we could promise our favor to. I believe I have some candidates." 

[hr] 

[b]The Feast[/b]

Speeches had been made, prayers had been prayed, and applause had been given and now the feasting had begun and it would last well into the night. 

Longtables covered the floor wall to wall, under long rows of dragon skulls and tapestries of scenes from the War of Ten Crowns, with the Iron Throne overlooking all the merriment. Space had been made in the Throne Room for the multitude of guests but there was still not enough room. Bards played raucously in many portion of the room as performers juggled and stilted and cartwheeled their way along and all manner of dogs and cats prowled looking for food. Lords and Ladies from all over the nation as well as numerous foreign dignitaries, merchant princes, bankers, guildsmen, artists, and priests of all stripe cavorted at table. The feast spread from the Throne Room all the way to the gardens to accommodate the guests. Braided Dothraki and dyed Tyroshi rubbed shoulders with Pale Qartheen and dark-skinned Summer Islanders. The festivities were a riot of color as the moon shone down on all and the sounds of music and conversation permeated the air along with the aroma of sweets, spirits, and meat of all description. In the distance the lights of the festivities in the city and the surrounding fields and even aboard ships made everything almost as bright as day. The moon shone down on it all. 

The tables closest to the Throne were seated with the most important luminaries of Westeros, including all the Paramount Houses of the Realm and many other High Houses, with their proximity to the throne and the bride and groom determined by both their familial ties to the ruling family and their political influence. The Targaryens were the center of the arrangement and everyone else radiated from them, though the family of the hour were the Lannisters with the newly wedded Julianna seated side by side with Aemon. Most of the tables had spots for special guests from any variety of backgrounds and the families themselves often had their tables arranged next or apart from each other to declare alliances and friendships. 

Aerion and his band had been offered a place with Visenya and other high officers of the Royal Army, while William, Taria, Steffon, Miribelle, Petyr, and Malrik had all been offered places of honor among even the noblest of scions such as Alerie, Ellion, Tom, and Mychel; with many of them even having the ear of a Lord Paramount of a Royal. Malrik caught sight of Sirinei Marbrand, who was very close to Aemon and Julianna. She was the one who the Knight of Skulls had pointed out for him. Alerie meanwhile would have seen Tom smiling at her from his place among the other lions, and he was seated close to Lord Jaime himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Aerion would have seen Daenyra favoring him with an enigmatic stare, her own queerly-eyed babe regarding him with his disconcerting gaze as well. 

The first courses were being offered, an assortment of baked goods and fruits both from Westeros and more exotic far from the East. Then there were salads and fried onions and creamy soups of all varieties. Soon courses of fish, duck, boar, lamb, pork, beef, and all manner of meat under the sun was offered. 77 courses in all. All the while bards sang of battles won, great loves ignited, and friendships made during the War of Ten Crowns as well as shocking betrayals and mournful last stands. A bevy of jesters, acrobats, strongmen, and other oddities entertained the guests as they ate and conversed. A few Giant chiefs had been given their own corner to feast on aurochs and barrels of ale while several Children of the Forest sat among the Northmen. Far in their own secluded area, a cadre of robed figures ate strange delicacies in silence, with exceedingly few daring to approach them. 

It was a time for laughter and love, friendship and light rivalry, playful scheming and mischievous jokes, ribald japes and far-fetched stories, loud boasting and even louder song, drunken dancing and even more drunken brawling. It was a time for life and they were free to enjoy it all the night long. During the feasting several of the guests received small notes including Aerion, Malrik, Miri, Taria, William, Mable, and Ellion. None of them had seen who passed them and only discovered the notes once they reached down to their plates or checked their belongings. The note briefly and tersely explained the Crown's need for a band to undertake a dangerous mission to the Stepstones to bring the rebellion to an end. Each was specifically written for the receiver and included the promise of rewards and accolades if the journey was a success. as well as the personal gratitude of the King and Queen. Those who accepted need only present themselves to the royal docks tomorrow at mid-day to learn more. 

[hr] 

Finally when the hour was midnight the festivities were brought to an end as Jon shouted for order. The hall reluctantly quieted down as Jon shouted for all to hear, "I thank you all for coming. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by so many blessed friends and family as you all. This is a great day not just for I, but for our Kingdom! A new Prince is seated before you all and a future King stands there with his future Queen." 

He waited for the applause to dim before he continued, "But before that day comes, my son must have a crown on his head. And just like a king needs a crown, a wedding needs a bedding!" The crowd roared and banged the tables in unison chanting, "To bed! To bed! To bed! To bed! To bed!" A mob of lords and ladies descended on the bride and groom, Aemon laughed despite himself while Julianna reddened and giggled. Viserys, Robb, and Petyr, were among the dozen or so men who jockeyed to undress Julianna as they lifted her to Maegor's Holdfast; making loud suggestions and laughing all the way as Julianna's clothes were shed. Certainly the other male guests of honor had the opportunity to carry her. Many who didn't still followed to help rip off Julianna's clothes or shout jokes in their wake. 

Viserys called out, "Now, don't be disappointed when you go in there! I'm afraid his sword is merely compensation for other shortcomings." 

Julianna giggled and replied, "Nymeria says they can't find a scabbard short enough for your sword." The men all laughed, Viserys loudest among them. 

Visenya, Cat, and Nymeria were among the many women who carried Aemon to his chamber; impressively Visenya and Cat managed to help the other women actually lift the Prince in the air and all the while his cousins helped rip his modesty and assaulted him with suggestive japes, many of them more shocking than anything the men could come up with.

The whole rambunctious crowd managed to usher the bride and groom to their room, the two of them as bare as they were on their namedays. Julianna and Aemon laughed together as they were ushered into the room and the door closed behind them while the party shouted suggestions from the door. Julianna and Aemon couldn't hear them as they were preoccupied. 

[hr] 

Late in the night, long after the castle had gone to sleep, silence rained. Occasionally, sounds could be heard from the city were the festivities never ended; but the noblemen and noblewomen had long since gone to sleep. Most had been given rooms and accommodations throughout the Keep and there were not enough private rooms for all the lords and ladies. Some pitched pavilions in the yard while others found manses near the keep to stay in. All was quiet and none were awake except for the guards and soldiers on duty. There were always hundreds of swords in the Keep at any time but now the number had risen dramatically with all the retinues. On the sea facing wall a patrolling guardsman walked down the stone, occasionally passing his fellows and looking over the water. 

He saw nothing but the water, heard nothing but the whistling of waves and wind. Then he heard a soft squishing sound. He looked onto the beach, saw nothing until he saw something like a man ran at the wall. Followed by scores of others. He made ready to sound the alarm, stringing his bow until he saw what they were. Their heads were too large, covered with scaled and dominated by bulbous white eyes. He saw flashes of sharp green teeth as they ran at him, covered in queer crusty oddments that looked like seashells or coral shaped into armor and clubs and blades made out of the remains of sea life. He could do nothing but shout in terror. That brought attention and men rushed to his position, saw the twisted beasts and were equally taken aback. Many were frozen on the spot while the others began haphazardly firing arrows down onto the beach while one soldier had the presence of mind to sound the horn. 

They had delayed too long and though a few arrows found their mark, most reached the walls and threw up long barbed coils, climbing spikes and began to pull their way up to the top. Broken from their trance now, the guards shouted to organize a defense, firing bolts and arrows while a few of the beasts had already jumped onto the walls and lashed out with their cruel weapons. Up close many of them were more horrifying. A few seemed to differ from their fellows, sprouting random tentacles or fins or crab-like claws. All of them were twisted and monstrous nightmares from the sea. Some stood their ground and fought, some died, and others ran for their lives. A clamor soon spread through the castle. 

Confusion reigned as knights woke up wearily, buckling on their swordbelts and coming out of their rooms to look into the yard where a large hidden passage suddenly opened and a horde of men charged in with sword and axe, like rats exiting a sewer. The guards rallied a defense and tried to hold them back as non-combatants ran for their lives and fighting men rushed to deal with the sudden influx of threats. Many of the bystanders ran for Maegor's Holdfast and the Kingsguard on duty had their swords out, holding the bridge while Kin Jon could be seen striding out with Lightbringer aflame, with many of his sworn swords at his side. The dragons had woken and strafed the beach, burning the beasts but more and more kept climbing out of the water. Suddenly, the Dragons screeched in surprise as a scores of flying beasts soon appeared over the waves, ridden by single riders with bows or spears who began harassing them. The monsters were not unlike the Dragons though they were much smaller and did not seem to breathe fire. They fell in droves to the Dragon's claws and fire but this diversion allowed the sea beasts to mob the castle walls with near impunity. 

In the Holdfast, Aemon jumped from bed, throwing Julianna a shift and hastily pulling on breeches and a tunic. Julianna pulled on the cloth, "What's going on?!" 

"I don't know. But we make for the King's chamber. Mother will be there the women and children. We need to go." 

Julianna's face paled, "Aemon." 

Aemon turned and saw a few men standing in the room with axes and daggers. The door was still locked. Aemon grabbed Blackfyre and drew it and snarled, "Come meet your gods."