Game of Thrones: Winter's Fire

The Hand of the King

He still heard the dragons screeching sometimes at night. He still saw the fires, and the burnt bodies of the fallen, of his brothers and his father, lying unseeingly on the pyre as they were given to the flames. He still remembers seeing his mother being fed to his uncle's dragon. He was not sorry when the last dragon died, even if it symbolises something, an end to all out Targaryen dominance in the Seven Kingdoms. Dragons are not needed, political ties are. It was why he suggested to Aegon that they foster the little lordlings from the Wardens so that should war come again, there would be no threat, no uncertainty. Viserys still remembers how his mother had fumed and fumed, when her brother had crowned himself, how she had wept bitter tears when they learnt of Baelon, Gaemon and Aemon's deaths.

They never sing about the death and destruction that comes with war in the songs. No they only sing about the great deeds and how the knights always win and the bad men lose, and how the maiden in the tower always, always is saved by the charming prince. Lies all of them. There are no true knights, there are no maidens in the tower, Viserys and his brother had learnt that hard lesson during the Dance, and their children were learning it now. He had counselled strongly against invading Dorne, had told Daeron that there was no purpose to conquering it that had it needed to have been conquered; Aegon the Dragon would have done so. Daeron always a hot headed boy and urged on by the Baratheon and the Lannister boys, ignored his advice and called the banners and marched.

That he had managed to win Dorne in the first place was a miracle unto itself, though from the way the singers sang it, it was all to do with Daeron, the Young Dragon they were calling him, and Viserys suspected that his nephew had let the praise go to his head. Though not before he had told him how it had been because of Willam Stark that Dorne had finally surrendered, how Willam had fought and fought like the warrior himself. Viserys knew that his nephew and Willam Stark were close, closer than Daeron and Baelor, like true brothers. He also knew that Daeron's death had hit Stark hard, he knew that there was only one thing Stark treasured more than his friendship with Daeron and that was Daeron's sister Princess Daena.

Viserys had seen the two of them grow up together, had seen how Willam thought Daena hung the moon, he had suggested to Aegon that perhaps it would be good if Daena and Willam were to marry, it would strengthen ties with the north. His brother had refused, had stated that Daeron would marry the Arryn girl and Baelor and Daena would marry. That had not been one of his brother's better suggestions, Viserys had to admit, as far as he was aware Baelor and Daena's marriage had gone unconsummated, and when Baelor had set the marriage aside, Viserys urged him to allow Willam and Daena to marry. Baelor refused.

His nephew was a fool, a pious man, but a fool none the less. Baelor said outright in front of the whole court when Willam Stark had come to ask for Daena's hand in marriage that no northern savage was worthy of a Princess of the blood, that the Faith would not stand for some blasphemous wedding. Stark had stormed out fuming and had also resigned as Master of Laws, and Viserys had been living in panic since that day trying desperately to mend the broken relationship with Winterfell. His sources had told him the day that Cregan Stark had begun rebuilding Moat Cailin, and he had felt his gut begin to sink. Torrhen Stark had knelt to Aegon the Dragon, because he wished to spare his people the fate suffered on the Field of Fire, Moat Cailin had been a ruin even then. But now the Targaryens had no dragons and Baelor's piety was casting dispersion within the Lords mentalities, if Stark were to declare himself King the realm would bleed.

And so Viserys continued to beg Baelor to reconsider, to send a raven to Winterfell apologising to Willam Stark, and offering him Daena's hand. His nephew refused to budge on the matter, claimed that the Crone had shown him the wisdom in his decision, and that he would find another husband for his sisters once the Seven had shown him the right path. That had been nine years ago, they were still waiting for Baelor's right path. Baelor had confined his sisters to the Maidenvault so that they would not tempt him or his court into mortal lusts, a foolish notion if Baelor ever had one. He knew for a fact that Elena snuck out of the Maidenvault each night to visit her Velaryon cousin that she was likely pregnant with his child, he knew that Daena had snuck out on multiple occasions to meet lovers, and to send ravens to Winterfell. He also knew courtesy of Aegon that the boy Daena had just recently borne was his that had gotten him to think, would Stark still want Daena even though she had a bastard?

There were other pressing matters that he had to think of as well. His fool of a nephew had appointed first a mere peasant as High Septon, that had been a disaster, the man could not read nor could he write, the Most Devout had been close to rebelling, Viserys had had to have one of his men step in and end his nephew's folly. The man was poisoned in his sleep, but his nephew proved his capability for foolishness once more when he appointed an eight year old boy to the position of High Septon, claiming that the boy could perform miracles, and yet the boy was unable to do anything to improve his king's failing health. Viserys knew what would be said once Baelor died, that he had been the one to poison the king, that he coveted the crown. All lies, each and every single one of them. His nephew was dying from the wasting sickness, all those years of fasting over eggs and other such nonsense had finally taken their toll on his nephew's body, and he was beginning to waste away.

His nephew's reign had Viserys had to admit been one foolish mistake after another made by Baelor, and before the true consequences of his actions could be felt, it fell to Viserys to rectify the situation make sure that the actions were made to seem more favourable. It did take a lot of effort and patience, and of course with three children of his own to worry about Viserys constantly had his hands tied. Though he would give Baelor credit where it was due, after the war with Dorne, something needed to be done to ensure that there would be no more war, and it had been Baelor who, after walking across the Boneway to rescue the captives, had proposed a marriage to secure the alliance. Viserys' grandson Prince Daeron had married Princess Myriah Martell, Prince Mors' daughter. The couple had been married two years previously and had just had their first child, whom they had named Baelor in honour of the current king.

The marriage had brought peace to the realm, and with the peace had come a promise from Dorne, they would become a part of the Seven Kingdoms in due time. Both sides would put aside their anger over Daeron's war, and would learn to forgive and move forward. Though whether or not they would forget was a completely different matter altogether, and one which Viserys did not think he would be alive for long enough to truly see or influence. He only prayed that those who followed him would be able to counsel the next king wisely, and fairly.

He entered the small council chamber and looked at the table where he had sat with Baelor's council, and before that Daeron's, and before that Aegon's. And if he tried very hard he could remember coming here as a small boy, when his grandfather had still been king, before the Dance, and he remembered being perched on his mother's knee as the matters of state were discussed. The small council now was much different to how it had been then. Back in the days of his grandfather the talk had been of the succession, and of Andal customs. He remembered Ser Cristan Cole, the Kingmaker he was known as now, how he had argued fiercely first for Viserys' mother and then later once Viserys' grandfather began to grow ill for Viserys' uncle. The man was a traitor and had justly died a traitor's death on the banks of the Blackwater Rush during the Dance. The small council during Aegon's reign had been all about reconciliation bringing back those houses that had sided with the pretender and allowing them some forgiveness. Viserys knew of course that whilst they may talk of forgiveness in the open, neither he nor Aegon had truly forgiven those who had betrayed their mother, nor had Aegon ever truly come love his bride, the one Velaryon forced on him, that traitor's daughter, Viserys knew that his brother had come to love his Velaryon bride though.

The small council during Daeron's reign had been brief and short, war was the hot topic, the small council was made up of the boys Daeron had grown up with. Damon Lannister as Master of Coin, Robar Baratheon as Master of whisperers, Quellon Greyjoy as Master of ships, Lord Commander Odrick Arryn, Willam Stark as Master of Laws, Grand Maester Tyrell, and then there was Viserys. A young small council except for Viserys, Tyrell and Ser Odrick, and yet hungry for war nonetheless, and war they had gotten. Baratheon and Ser Odrick had died in Dorne alongside Daeron. Lannister and Stark had come back different men to the ones who had ridden south in the first place, and yet Stark was back in the north and Lannister remained in King's Landing, no doubt at the urging of his lord father.

Viserys' thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to come in, he found himself looking at his son Aemon, Aemon who had donned the white of the Kingsguard and had distinguished himself in Dorne. "His grace is calling for you father." His son said solemnly. Viserys nodded and got up out of his chair and followed his son to Maegor's Holdfast and the rooms of the King. When he entered he saw Maester Marwyn leaning over Baelor applying some sort of funny smelling lotion, gathered around the King were Aegon and Naerys. Viserys kept walking till his nephew could see him, Baelor was breathing heavily each breath was a task for him; his skin was as pale as milk. Sweat beaded down his skin, yet when he opened his eyes the violet irises seemed to be more alive than ever. He grasped Viserys' hand and tugged on it. Viserys moved closer.

"Free them," Baelor whispered. "Free Daena, Rhaena, Elena. I was wrong. Free them." He said.

"I will your grace." Viserys promised.

Baelor's eyes closed then, but he spoke still. "Write… Winterfell… tell… Willam… I'm… sorry."

"I will Your Grace." Viserys promised once more.

"Good… let me rest now… the gods are waiting… father… mother… Daeron." Baelor whispered his voice getting quieter and quieter with every word.

"Rest Your Grace." Viserys said, Baelor kept his eyes closed and spoke no more. He kept hold of Viserys hand though, until a great cough wracked his body and blood came out of his lips, and then his breathing stopped all together. Behind him he heard Naerys crying softly, Viserys turned to Maester Marwyn and said "Tell them to ring the bells of the Sept. The king is dead."

Daena

She was free. Ten years her brother had seen fit to keep her imprisoned and at last she was free. True her freedom may have come more from her brother's death than any good will her uncle bore her, but she was still free. It had been a long ten years, made longer by the fact that she no longer had Willam by her side to give her comfort as she raged and cried over her brother's follies, and the fact that he would not bed her, as was the practice. Numerous times over her imprisonment had she cursed the Seven, and her father, and even on rare occasions Daeron. If Daeron had not died in Dorne, she knew he would have set aside her and Baelor's marriage and allowed her to marry Willam, after all how many times had Daeron told her that Willam was as good as a brother to him?

But alas Daeron died in the Dornish desert and Baelor came to the throne, he set aside their marriage but did not allow Willam and her to marry. Daena knew Willam had been wroth, especially because Baelor had rejected the proposal in front of court and had insulted him. Before he had left for Winterfell, they had bedded each other, with a fierce passion and desire, and she had kept that desire to herself for most of her captivity, she had drunk moon tea after when he had left, so that he would not suffer the consequences. She had tried to remain faithful to her wolf, but she was a woman of passion and action, and the waiting and the captivity were getting to her, when her cousin Aegon proposed a way for her to break free, the only condition be that she sleeps with him. And so she did, and so thoroughly did she enjoy the freedom that sneaking out of the Maidenvault gave her, that she slept with Aegon twice more. It was that third and final time that Daemon was conceived, she was sure of it.

When it was found that she was pregnant, Baelor came storming into the Maidenvault all pious anger, demanding to know whom the father was. She refused to name Aegon, and when Daemon was born, she decided she would raise him herself, Baelor be damned. As it happened she knew that Elena had been sneaking out long before she ever had, to see their cousin Alyn Velaryon. The day Daemon was born, Baelor fell ill, and she was convinced that it was a sign from the gods; they were punishing Baelor for being a fool, a pious fool who had rejected an honourable proposal for her hand, and had in turn insulted some of the oldest gods in Westeros. Her brother had died for that crime, she was certain.

Baelor had done one thing in his reign, one thing he would be remembered for. Just as Daeron was remembered for conquering Dorne, Baelor would be remembered for giving the kingdoms to the Dornish. In arranging the marriage between their nephew Daeron and Princess Myriah Martell, Baelor was effectively ensuring that the Targaryen line, and the Iron Throne would be continued by a Dornishman. He should have had Daeron marry either Rhaena or Elena, not some Dornish slut, who more than likely would not stick to Daeron's bed. Whatever ill will she bore towards Aegon and Naerys for having the freedom to roam around the Red Keep whilst she and her sisters were kept in the Maidenvault like common criminals, could not be put on Daeron, Aegon and Naerys' son, he was such a sweet, kind and caring boy. A bit bookish, that was true, but better that than to be a lustful man like Aegon was. Daena knew that her cousin kept many mistresses, littered throughout Westeros, during Baelor's reign he would keep them hidden, but it was common knowledge where he would go when he went out of King's Landing. She knew not how Naerys put up with her husband's foolery, but then again she supposed that having a brother in the Kingsguard, helped. Prince Aemon had won much renown for his fighting in Dorne, and in defending his sister's honour against the slanders of Ser Morgil, had earnt himself a place in the history books, already he was being hailed as the finest knight to have ever lived.

But she could not dwell on that, she would not dwell on that. After ten years of being kept cooped up inside the Maidenvault she was finally free, free to do as she pleased when she pleased, by decree of her uncle, King Viserys the second of his name. Elena had had two bastard children by then with their cousin Alyn, a Jon and Jeyne Waters, but Alyn had died of a fever a few days after Baelor had, and so Elena had quickly been married off to some Lord Tyrell or Hightower, who now served on their uncle's small council. Rhaena had become Septa; her years spent in the Maidenvault had made her all the more religious than she had been as a child. And Daena, what did she wish to do? She wished to find the quickest horse and ride all the way to Winterfell and kiss Willam right on the lips, and never stop kissing him.

Of course she could not do that, not now anyway, not with Daemon only a year old, perhaps when he became older she would. But then she was worried, what if Willam no longer wanted her? What if he found her less desirable now she had a child who was not his? All these thoughts constantly kept running through her head during and since she had given birth to Daemon. It was why she had not written to Willam since she had found out she was pregnant, she was scared he would reject her.

She need not have worried. Willam came down to King's Landing, the new Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North to pledge fealty to her uncle King Viserys II, and once that was done he asked for her hand in marriage. Daena felt her heart begin to flutter nervously, as she waited for her uncle to respond, she prayed to the old gods and the new in the time it took for her uncle to respond, and she prayed that the said yes. King Viserys had always been a solemn man and one who would weigh each word before he spoke, and then had been no different. He had looked at Willam, who had his head raised; almost daring the king to refuse, and then a small smile crept up onto the old king's face and he said the words that Daena thought she would never hear. "Lord Stark, you would consent to marrying a woman who already has a son who is not your own?"

Willam straightened up and looked straight at her when he replied. "Any child of Princess Daena's is as good as mine Your Grace." Daena felt her heart swell with love for him, this northerner she so desperately wanted to call husband.

King Viserys looked at her then, "And what of you Daena, will you consent to marrying Lord Stark?"

Daena tried to keep her face expressionless but could not help the big smile that broke across her face. "Yes Your Grace. I do."

Her uncle smiled then, a true smile, a smile she had not seen since before her aunt had died. "Good. Then it is settled. Lord Willam Stark and mine own niece Princess Daena Targaryen shall be wed."

Daena's heart leapt with joy then, and afterwards when court had been dismissed, she had lead Willam to her chambers and kissed him and fucked him senseless, all to express her love and gratitude to him. Then when they were done, she rested her head on his chest, and listened to his heart beat, feeling content with the world. Though there was one thing she just had to ask, she had to be sure. "Willam?"

"Hmmm?" her betrothed replied sleepily.

"Did you mean what you said in court today? That any child of mine is as good as yours?" she asked hating how weak her voice sounded.

She felt Willam stir, and when she looked up his brown eyes were looking down at her. "Of course I did Daena. I love you, and you having a bastard does not change that. Daemon will live with us at Winterfell, and he will grow up alongside his brothers and sisters. And he will grow up loved."

He kissed her then, but Daena had to know why. "Why though?"

Willam sighed then, and he sounded so sad that she yearned to kiss away the pain she heard in his voice. "My mother died when I was away. Beron grew up without a mother. Daemon should know his mother, he should know his family. And besides, had Baelor had the sense to do what your uncle did, Daemon would have been our son anyway." With that he gave a playful growl and began kissing her again.

After the initial excitement of her betrothal and upcoming nuptials died down, Daena began planning her wedding. After the humiliation Baelor and his avid faith in the Seven had caused Willam, she was determined not to have a wedding in the Sept that had been built and had been named after her brother, no she insisted on having a wedding in a Godswood. But not the petty godswood that King's Landing had, no the only proper godswood south of the neck was on the Isle of Faces in Harrenhal. That was where she insisted, her and Willam's wedding take place. And so after much persuasion her uncle finally relented and agreed to have the wedding in Harrenhal, followed by a Tourney to celebrate it. The Lothstons were only too happy to accommodate the King's request, and so the invitations were sent out, and anybody who was anybody came to Harrenhal for what some were deeming the wedding of the decade.

She knew Willam felt uncomfortable with the amount of pageantry being put on display for their wedding, and she knew that he would rather have just had a simple wedding, but as she was of the blood royal, there were certain things that needed to be done. But she did do her best to make sure he felt at ease, and when his brother Artos and his family came down to Harrenhal, Willam truly seemed to come out of his shell, and become more of the man Daena knew him to be.

The day of their wedding dawned bright and clear, the sun shining and not a cloud in sight. There was a light breeze in the air, but as Daena was helped into her wedding dress, she felt nothing but warm. Happiness radiated from her in waves, so much so that even Naerys who was usually very solemn seemed happy. She was helped down the aisle by her uncle the King, and when she saw Willam standing there in his grey doublet and matching tunic and breeches with the Stark cloak around his shoulders, her breath was taken away. He looked gorgeous.

She stood beside him in front of the heart tree, as Lord Lothston, began to speak. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of two people. Two people in love, two people, and two houses. Who comes?"

Her uncle stepped forward with her and said "Princess Daena of House Targaryen. Who claims her?"

Willam spoke then. "I, Willam of House Stark, do claim her."

Then Lord Lothston began to speak again. "Do you swear to love each other and guard each other's secrets and lives from now till the end of your days?"

"I do." They said in unison.

"Then swear it by Ice."

And so they swore it by Ice.

"Sweat it by fire."

And so they swore their love by fire.

"And now swear by the old gods and the new, let any man who have reason for why these two people should not be married let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

When no one spoke, Lord Lothston smiled and said. "You may now kiss." And kiss they did, a long warm kiss that had Daena's insides burning up with heat and love and passion.

And so it was that Princess Daena of House Targaryen, in the 171st Year after Aegon's Landing became, Lady Daena Stark Lady of Winterfell.