Lysa:
"It is a pity that Lord Brandon is not able to join us."
Lysa turned in her seat from where she was looking out the window to the woman sitting across from her, Cersei Lannister. Her words had been directed to Lysa's sister, Cat, who sat on Lysa's other side.
"It is," Her sister showed the expected disappointment that she could not be with her betrothed.
Lysa had been surprised that the Lady Cersei had spoken. The Lord Hand's daughter had been quiet for much of the trip. She'd speak when spoken to, and remained cordial in her answers, but did little to expand on anything she said. Lysa thought she looked distracted with something, but she wasn't bold or foolish enough to ask what it was.
"You should tell her Cat," Lysa encouraged her sister, and saw her words had piqued Cersei's interest.
"It is nothing, Lysa," Her sister dismissed in a gentle tone that dripped with demureness.
"No, it is," She insisted. "Brandon's friend, Elbert came to Riverrun at Cat's betrothed's behest. With letters too thick for ravens to carry." She saw a bit of red in Cat's cheeks. Lysa had only heard some of them that her sister deigned to read to her.
It was all so wonderful, she thought, hearing Brandon's tender apologies and other sweet words.
"That was kind of him," Cersei's tone was bland, but her smile seemed real. "Who is this Elbert?"
"Elbert Arryn," Lysa was all too pleased to answer. "He is a distant Arryn," She continued, "And Denys' heir until," Her words and thoughts trailed off while heat came to her cheeks, "Until we have children," Still unable to hide the blush that remained no doubt across her face.
She did not think it fair she had to wait at least another year to be married. I'm not frail, she had told her father, but he would hear nothing of her words no matter how true they were.
I can give him sons now. Lysa could feel it in her blood. In her bones. She was ready. I can be brave, he loves me, I can help him.
Why must we wait? She lamented the unfairness of it. She knew her body better than her father or maester.
She put aside her disappointment but stayed on the topic due to recent gossip she had heard from some of the guards in the prince's retinue.
"I heard that the Princess may be pregnant again."
Lysa wasn't sure she should trust such sources but she was tired of the quiet that had been plaguing her for most of this trip. Now, that they were all talking, she did not want it to end and for silence to once more reign. That was boring, and she could only look out the window of their carriage for so long without getting a bit nauseous.
The bumpiness of the road did little to soothe her protesting belly.
"A child is a blessing," Cat intoned, looking and sounding so wise. Her back was straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her auburn hair wonderfully braided, and her blue eyes were kind, and thoughtful in their gaze.
Cersei favored her with a polite smile, but added nothing to the conversation.
"The Crown Prince would be pleased," Lysa agreed quickly.
I cannot wait to please my husband, she thought dreamily of her and Denys together.
Her wonderful thoughts of her perfect betrothed came to a halt just as the wheels beneath her slowed to one as well.
"What is it?" Cat asked.
Lysa looked out the window, but saw nothing of interest. She saw a few Targaryen guards milling about.
Their answer came shortly and it began with the sound of a polished knock on their door. It then opened to show the genial face of Ser Gwayne Gaunt, who offered them a polite smile and the proper courtesies. "Apologies, ladies," He raised his head after dipping it to them in greeting. "Part of our escort has gone too far ahead. Our caravan has stretched out."
"Do you know how long it will take, Ser Gwayne?" Cersei asked the knight.
"Not terribly long, my lady," He answered, a sly smile slipped in under his bushy mustache. "Is there a message I shall take to the prince for you, my lady?"
The Lady Cersei did not seem surprised or scandalized by the knight's informal question or his tone. She replied with a sincere smile and shook her head, "I wouldn't dare make you blush, Ser Gwayne," She teased, green eyes dazzling in mirth, "Red does not suit you nearly as well as white."
Gwayne laughed. "I shall inform the Prince then that he is in your thoughts ." He winked, "Ladies," he bowed to them and left.
"My betrothed was right in his name for him," Cersei was still smiling, "Gwayne the Gossip, indeed!" Her lingering amusement did not flicker out for another few heartbeats.
That was when the first shout could be heard.
"What was that?"
Her sister's question was answered not by them, but by a chorus of loud noises that seemed to be coming from all directions.
Lysa looked to the window and felt her belly drop at what she saw. "Men!" Her heart flickering in her chest like a frightened and caged bird. "Attack!"
It was terrible! Coming out of the woods were armed men. They looked dangerous and demented as if they'd just escaped the Seven Hells.
Arrows fell upon their carriage like the first raindrops of a storm.
Lysa screamed.
They're trying to kill us!
Lysa felt the fear that coiled itself around her lungs and squeezed tightly.
"What?" Lady Cersei had moved across the cushions when Lysa couldn't muster her voice to answer.
"We will be safe," Cat assured them, holding Lysa's hand and squeezing. "We have men to protect us."
The sound of steel clashing against one another wasn't as reassuring.
Shouts and curses, and clangs of metal made for terrifying sounds that had Lysa trembling.
It's too close! It's too close! She felt tears on her cheeks. Make it stop! Make it stop!
"The men are scattered!" Lysa's voice was strangled, remembering why they had stopped in the first place. "We're doomed!" The fear was heavy and pressing against her face trying to smother her.
"We are protected by the best men in the Kingdoms," Lady Cersei did not share Lysa's opinion.
"She is right," Her sister quickly agreed, "Uncle Brynden is out there," Cat's hand remained tightly wrapped around Lysa's, "Denys too,"
"Denys!" It came out more as a screech, but now she feared for him with all this fighting happening around them.
Protect Denys, she prayed, Protect us, she repeated her prayers. She closed her eyes so that she could pretend that she was back in the Sept at Riverrun.
He cannot die! It could not happen. I need to give him sons. He can't be taken.
More arrows fell upon their carriage which punctured the calming image Lysa was trying to project.
Please no, she said to herself, Please.
A finger of light could be seen shining above them, and for one glorious heartbeat, she thought her prayers were being answered, but when she looked up, she discovered to her horror it was not the touch of the gods they felt, but man. An arrow had poked through, punching through the wood.
Lysa leaned back. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten in hopes to banish the dizziness that covered her like an unwanted veil.
"It's Ser Gwayne!" Cersei's voice was filled with such hope that it got Lysa to open her eyes to look.
She was right. The knight of the kingsguard looked valiant in his white plate armor while he moved towards them. His sword was already bloodied by the fiends who thought to attack them.
"Protect the Prince!" He shouted as he dispatched a foolish bandit who thought to stab him when his back was turned, "Protect the carriage!" He moved with surprising calmness given the expected chaos that was all around him.
"We're safe," Catelyn didn't hide her relief.
He was only steps away from them.
We're safe, for the first time Lysa allowed herself to feel safe.
A gargled shout broke through her confidence. She looked through the window to her horror to see Ser Gwayne was stumbling forward which was how she spotted the cause.
An arrow! Her heart sank and fresh tears were falling down her cheeks. The kingsguard knight and their protector had been hit. He fell to his knees first, and then the ground before he could reach them.
"Open the door!" Cersei demanded.
"WHAT?" Lysa shrieked unable to understand such madness.
Cersei didn't look the least bit scared. "Open the door," She repeated with a sharp edge in her voice, "I will not allow them to butcher Ser Gwayne."
Lysa turned to Cat for an answer. Her sister always knew what to do, but Cat seemed silently stunned at Gwayne's unexpected fall.
Cersei moved out of her seat to get to the door.
"No!" Lysa tried to swat her hand away. "You can't!"
"I can," Cersei's growling response made Lysa instinctively lean away and that was all the Lady Cersei needed to open the door.
The screams and shouts were terrible! They were so loud, but it was the groans and cries that pierced Lysa to her bones. The wailing of the dying.
Please let that not be Denys. Lysa covered her ears, but it all bled through. Please protect Denys .
"I need help," Cersei had moved halfway out of the carriage to grab Gwayne's arms and was trying to pull him into the safety of their carriage.
"We need to close the door!" Lysa insisted.
"He lives!" Cersei snapped, "Now help me!"
Cat moved first. She recovered swiftly from her brief lapse of stillness and came alongside Cersei to help grab the groaning Ser Gwayne. They grunted while they tried to pull him inside.
The man's dead weight and armor made it no easy thing.
Lysa was continuing her silent prayer when she moved to join them. Her fingers were trembling when they found a purchase to grip around his back. She then pulled with all her might. She felt her arms shaking, but the three of them were slowly doing it.
It was a few more seconds of struggling before he was brought in and was unceremoniously left on the floor, muddied, and bloodied, but he was inside.
She felt the wetness before she saw it. Her fingers were sticky with blood. She must have touched a part of his wound. Lysa's belly roiled, and the taste of bile burned in her throat. She climbed over the fallen knight and just as her face reached the outside, she heaved. Tears blurred her vision, and her body shuddered.
Cat's hands were on her back. First they were soothing, but then they became insistent and firm. Her sister was pulling her out of the way so that they could close the door.
Lysa did not resist, reeling from her sickness. Exhausted, and scared, that was when she saw one of their attackers had noticed the open door.
He had dark eyes and his face was dirtied, and his sword was red. She felt the disgust in her belly at the slow look he gave her before he licked his lips. He was quick in his steps to close the distance between them. He was standing not yet close enough to grab them, but in the way of them being able to close the door.
"Some treasures are in gold," Even his voice was hard and mean, "And some are in flesh."
Lysa was going to be sick again. Her stomach stirred as she sagged in her seat. Her eyes were bleary, and what followed felt more like a dream but she watched it unfold as if in some detached trance.
The man put one of his hands on the door frame to steady and then pull himself inside.
A flash of steel struck forward like a bolt of lightning. A startled cry followed, he cursed and stumbled backwards as a splash of red blocked Lysa's vision for a heartbeat, drenching her and Ser Gwayne.
The source of the cut was a sword. It's wielder-the Lady Cersei.
She then pulled the blade out and slashed at the confused and wounded man a second time.
The sound of steel cutting through flesh had never sounded so sweet to Lysa's ears. She saw glimpses of the ferocious dragon and lion along the sword. Their fury had been roused by this interloper.
Their fangs were tasting blood.
The man's yelp was silenced as the sword sunk deeper into him. The body lulled forward, and went creepily still, like the strings of a puppet having been suddenly cut.
Lady Cersei's eyes were dark and blazing while her mouth was determined. She looked at their would be raper while she pulled the sword out of him. His body collapsed into a heap, hanging partly inside their carriage. She kicked his body to the ground. The thud sound it made was quite satisfying.
One hand holding a bloodied sword, with the other Cersei closed their door and then locked it.
"Lysa, you're bleeding!" Cat's worried voice pulled Lysa's eyes away from the fearsome looking Cersei Lannister and onto her worried sister.
"N-No," She muttered. Her tongue felt thick and her dreamlike daze only made her more sick. Her empty stomach churned in warning. "I-It's not my b-blood," Her voice sounded so far away.
Where am I going?
The last thing she saw before darkness came to her were tears in her sister's eyes.
Lyanna:
The solar in Storm's End was filled with warmth and laughter, friends, and family.
Their host, the Lord of Storm's End was sitting comfortably on one of the couches by the hearth. Perched on his knee was his natural daughter, Mya Storm. The girl was grinning and giggling thoroughly entertained by her father's antics which varied from bouncing precariously on his knee to being tossed up in the air with him catching her deftly each time.
Lyanna did not know who was laughing more Robert or Mya.
Sitting on one side of their host was Elia Lannister. The Dornish princess turned Lannister wife looked on amused, while occasionally cautioning Robert that some restraint is never a bad thing, especially when it comes to one's own children.
Jaime Lannister was leaning against the wall, grinning. His green eyes turning between the flying Mya and back to his wife. Japing while he watched, "Only Robert could find baby tossing an enjoyable sport."
Robert's eyes flickered to Jaime before tossing his daughter into the air, who let out an excited squeal. "You sound surprised, Lannister." The Lord of Storm's End caught his daughter with ease before sharing a chuckle with Jaime.
At the table where Lyanna was currently sitting, she was across from her brother's foster father, Jon Arryn. An old, but kind man who was currently engaged in a conversation with Ned's bride to be, Ashara. She could not hear what was being discussed, but it seemed an amusing topic given Jon's smiling and Ashara's laughter.
It was Ned's reaction to their conversation that clued Lyanna into what was being discussed.
"He did not?" Ashara asked in between her giggling when Jon Arryn finished an apparent story that featured Ned.
"He did," Jon answered with a fond smile that helped to ease the traces of the age lines on his face.
"Why wasn't I told this?" Ashara teased, turning to Ned, who seemed undecided if he should be amused or annoyed given the stories his foster father was sharing.
"It was not prudent," Ned replied with a shrug, but his small smile and his tone sent the three of them into another round of laughter.
Benjen had slipped off to bed as had the younger Renly, while Robert's other brother never made an appearance.
Had there been some recent row between the brothers? She wondered, trying to find a reason to explain such rigidness between Robert and his younger brother, Stannis.
It was Robert's rumbling voice that brought a halt to her thoughts and for them all to come back together into a single conversation. "Fearless," He praised his daughter. She was a girl of two or three, Lyanna was not certain. "She gets that from me."
"In your case we call it reckless," Elia corrected.
"She's clever too."
"So are we sure she's yours?" Jaime asked.
The jest earned a ripple of laughter throughout the room, but Robert's was the loudest. "I'll show you." His large hand rested gently on her shoulder, helping to guide her line of sight so she could see Ned. "Who's this?"
Her blue eyes sparkled in thought, smiling, "Uncle Ned!"
"Aye, Mya," Robert agreed with a grin.
Only Robert would encourage his daughter to call his friends uncles instead of what was appropriate or expected.
Lyanna felt her own lips twitch at how Mya not only saw her own brother, but Robert's handling of her. It was a strange sight to see this fearsome warrior, and a man who's infamy was centered around his promiscuity could be such a doting father especially when its with his natural daughter.
"And his house?"
Mya's face scrunched up in concentration for a heartbeat, before she put her head back and howled.
Her imitation of a wolf's howl brought amusement and acclaim from all those watching.
Robert was smirking when he tousled his daughter's curls. "That's right, Mya." He said proudly before turning in his seat so she could see Jaime, "And Uncle Jaime?" Robert asked her, "what's his house?"
Mya's blue eyes seemed to narrow and her lips pouted as she took in Jaime's appearance. It took her only a second or more before deciding. She let out a roar.
"Impressive," Jaime's praise made her face light up.
"I told you," Robert's smugness was more endearing than it should have been.
Jaime rolled his eyes.
"Alright, Mya," Robert turned her one last time back towards the table, but this time to face Jon Arryn.
Mya without pause immediately let out a loud screech.
The sudden and piercing wail made Lyanna wince. She was not the only one.
"I wasn't aware Lord Arryn's house was a dying rabbit," Jaime observed dryly.
"It was a falcon." Robert looked to be the only one unbothered by the sound. "I taught her that first."
Jaime did not look impressed. "Figures," he replied without bite.
"I much prefer the wolf," Ashara noted with a teasing glint in her violet eyes.
"I think the lion was the best," Elia had taken Mya from a willing Robert and put her on her own lap. The girl did not seem to mind. She accepted Elia's hold with a smile, her attention then her hands quickly moved to Elia's necklace, fascinated by the jewels that adorned it.
"My wife is wise," Jaime complimented, "And completely impartial."
"Clearly," Ned said from where he was sitting. His lips crooked in a smile.
At times like this, Lyanna felt more intruder than guest. There was a camaraderie between those in the room that she was not a part of. This show of friendship was so clear that even a blind man could notice it. They were so quick to fall into an easy rhythm with one another in their conversations and interactions.
"Lady Ashara has the right of it," Lyanna agreed, not allowing herself to be unintentionally excluded by her brother and friends. She knew it was not on purpose.
They were not like that. They've been nothing but welcoming to me since I first met them.
She figured they were probably unaware of how it could come across as intimidating. To be unsure if others could partake in a conversation between such intimate friends or if they should just stay silent out of fear of interrupting or ruining it.
Ashara nodded in her direction. "It is good to see I'll have such a bright sister to call my own."
Lyanna smiled, "It will be good to have a sister."
Ashara returned her smile, a brief look of relief flickered in her gaze.
Elia made a soft noise from the back of her throat to remind them of her presence. Mya tried to mimic the noise but it sounded more like a gag that had Elia and others laughing.
"Sisters," Lyanna amended. Her own smile grew. She did not find herself brave or willing enough to try to argue against what Lady Elia was implying.
The Godswood of Storm's End was deserted when she arrived. It was small and covered with green. There were a few slender trees that broke through the stony soil looking like fingers clawing upwards to reach the sky. At the center of the godswood was a large pale weirwood tree that stood out amidst all the green and brown of the rest of the area. It's face was solemn and its red eyes met hers.
Storm's End was an impressive fortress. She remembered some of the stories and histories written about it since some believed it was a Stark that helped to build it. Not just any Stark, but the famous Stark who'd earn the name, Bran the Builder.
And now a Stark will wed here.
They were just waiting for the arrival of the Prince and his retinue. Brandon had sent an earlier message saying that he would not be able to attend. He sent his apologies and promised to try to visit Ned's new seat before the year was done.
Lyanna suspected Father was upset since this had been a chance for Brandon to interact with his future bride, the Lady Catelyn Tully.
The sound of movement caused her to look over her shoulder to see who was approaching.
"Lyanna." It was Robert. He stood at a respectable distance when he announced himself. She dipped her head in greeting, but did not speak.
Robert's steps were heavy as he went. "How has your stay been?"
"I have no complaints."
"Good," Robert walked past her. "I'd be a poor host otherwise."
"I am curious on a matter," She asked, reflecting on what she had seen between the older Baratheon brothers since their arrival. "Did we come at a poor time?"
Robert frowned. "What gives you that impression?"
"Perhaps, it is not my place to say,"
"And would that truly stop you from speaking?"
Lyanna's lips twitched. "It would not."
"You are Ned's sister. I will hear your words."
"It appears we've come during a feud between yourself and your brother, Stannis."
Robert chuckled, but there was no warmth or mirth that she'd come to expect. This was neither infectious nor charming, but stiff. "What you see is us," He shrugged, "I am not close to Stannis or Renly."
"Why?" She didn't understand. Lyanna could never imagine nor would she want to imagine such a relationship to root itself between her and any of her brothers.
How could Robert shun his own blood?
"Stannis and I are too different."
"Would you think my brothers and I are all the same?"
Robert turned away from her. "No, I would not." He finally admitted after a long heartbeat of silence.
She stayed quiet, unsure if it was wise to continue to press him on this issue where she had no authority or even reason for addressing it.
"It's easier."
"What?" She was caught off guard by his unexpected answer.
"It's easier," He repeated, "To just accept that this is how it will be between us, that it will not change, so why should we try?"
"Because, he's your brother," She answered at once. Lyanna found herself disappointed in the man in front of her. It was lazy and cowardly of him to accept such a thing and give no effort to make any changes. He'd rather do nothing then even try. She found it pathetic.
He lowered his head, looking more a chastised child then the Lord of Storm's End.
"Brandon, Benjen, Ned," She listed her brothers who she loved so fiercely, "They're all so different, and they can make me mad, make me want to shout and curse at them at times," memories of Brandon's little games that he played on her came to her. She thought more fondly of them now then she did when her brother inflicted them upon her.
"However, they're always there for me. They will make me laugh. They care for me, support me."
How often had Benjen snuck out sparring swords so that they could practice together in the godswood? Or Brandon taking her riding when she should've been inside. Or Ned looking the other way for her when he should've been looking for her.
"I could not think of a life where I treated any of them as stiffly as you do Stannis," she shook her head. "You are cordial to your servants and bannermen but distant to your own brothers."
He stiffened. His expression was difficult to describe. It was not anger that clouded his features, but something else. "You think less of me." Just like with his look, she could not properly put her finger on his tone.
"I do," Lyanna would not start lying to him now. She met his blue eyes that she was so used to be shining in good cheer, but now they were dim in their gaze. There was something there, she observed, it was brief in its presence, but she saw it on his face. He was hurt.
Despite her annoyance and disappointment in him it did not mean she wanted that. I did not think myself capable of such an influence on him . She had only interacted with him a handful of times and most of it has been spread out over the years.
Why does he care? She did not want to dwell on that question or what it could lead to so she pressed on.
"Do you not have any good memories with your brothers?"
"I went to the Vale at eight. Ned became my brother." He declared the latter part fervently, "I did not see Stannis and Renly much and when I visited," He moved around the weirwood tree, almost as if hiding from her inquisitive view. "I was more eager and interested in returning to my friends, Ned, and then later Jaime and my cousin. Then I was in seeing my brothers." He moved back around, but his eyes were looking around the godswood as if trying to search for memories with his brothers, Renly and Stannis.
"There is a memory Stannis and I share," Robert looked upwards towards the looming tower of Storm's End. "We stood together on one of the parapets. We were waiting for the arrival from our parents who were returning from Essos." He pointed with his hand to the spot where he and Stannis had supposedly stood. "We were all excited to see what gifts they had brought home and the stories they'd tell us, which they had teased in their letters," A ghost of a smile appeared and then disappeared on his lips. "But that was not to be," he said quietly.
"The Windproud shattered against the rocks before the Bay swallowed it up," His voice was flat, detached from the horror he was reliving. "We watched their ship sink together. We were quiet and powerless. We just watched." His jaw clenched, "It was Stannis who squeezed my hand in comfort. I was the older brother, but Stannis was the stronger one. Is the stronger one."
Lyanna felt a pang of anguish in her chest upon hearing Robert's story and watching him tell it. She could not imagine witnessing her parents death. It was a disquieting confession from him and it gave her pause and silence.
No words were quick to come to her in an attempt to try to comfort the Lord of Storm's End.
No, not some lord, She didn't like the distance that title suddenly put between them. It was Robert. My brother's friend.
Robert cleared his throat. "Forgive me," He apologized, "That was improper of me." He misread her silence as a condemnation of him revealing such intimate things to her.
"I-I," He struggled with trying to save himself, to shield his behavior from her which he clearly believed he had tarnished by not just speaking of such things, but how he spoke of them.
He's afraid I'll think less of him for it.
She was about to scold him for thinking that or the need to apologize, but her brother's voice interrupted them. Taking away not just that chance, but any chance she had of trying to comfort Robert.
That realization brought an odd, but fleeting feeling in her chest that she couldn't quite define.
"Robert, we've received a raven," Ned moved to meet them. "It's from Lord Buckler."
The Lord of Storm's End recovered quickly at the intrusion of her brother. He forced himself to smile upon seeing him, but it did not linger when Ned's message sunk in.
Robert groaned. "Give it to Cressen," He waved a hand as if to shoo it away.
Lyanna was put off by his casual disregard about receiving a letter from one of his bannermen. She could never imagine her father responding to the news of a raven in such a way.
"It was marked urgent, Robert," Ned did not seem surprised by his friend's reaction. "Lord Buckler reports its about Prince Daeron. Their retinue was attacked on the road."
"WHAT?" Robert's voice rivaled a thunderclap.
Ned didn't flinch. "Prince Daeron and most of their guests are safe, but there were casualties."
"We need to leave!" Robert rallied swiftly. He may have been put off and dismissive about responding to odious bannermen, but when it came to something of interest to him such as the well being of his cousin, he acted at once to address the problem.
"Jaime and Ser Harbert are seeing to the horses," Ned informed them. "We're all bringing some of our men to help with their return and safe escort to Storm's End."
"Good," Some of Robert's anger was calmed by that report. "This is a fucking outrage!" He shook a clenched fist. "To attack my cousin? I will not have it!" He growled, "It's those Brotherhood," Robert spat the name out.
"Brotherhood?" Lyanna repeated.
They both turned towards her, looking mildly surprised by her appearance as if just remembering she was with them. She smothered her annoyance at how quickly she had been forgotten and ignored, because she was more curious with what they were talking about.
"Yes, the Kingswood Brotherhood," Robert clarified. "They're scum and bandits that should've been pulled out like the weeds they are."
"They would be bold to strike out against a retinue that includes a Prince," Ned observed.
Robert was not deterred. "It's them. They've grown arrogant since little has been done about them this past year. I can only do so much since much of the Kingswood is in the Crownlands."
"No one is blaming you, Robert," Ned said softly, as if sensing the underlying reason for his friend's distress.
"My cousin was attacked, Ned!" Robert's face was going red, "And it was on my land! I'll tear down every tree in the Kingswood if it means ridding ourselves of this brotherhood of rogues and cutthroats."
"Let us first get to Bronzegate to meet up with the Prince and what's left of his retinue." Ned cautioned, "Before we make any hasty decisions."
Robert let loose an angry breath before giving a stiff nod. His face returned its normal shade and soon he was smiling. "Always thinking, Ned," he slapped his friend on the back.
"One of us has to, Robert." A small smile came to her brother's face. "It's kept you alive this long."
Robert roared, but this time it was a laugh and not some angry curse. "Let us be off quickly."
"Agreed," Ned was solemn. He then turned to her to speak, but she beat him to it.
"I know," She waved her hand before he could deliver his spiel about not just what was expected of her while he was away, but that he was leaving, and she couldn't come with him.
It was all very tiring in its predictability. She'd rather not hear it for the umpteenth time. It made her want to roll her eyes.
I haven't forgotten what is expected of me. Lyanna especially knew not to voice that she was a better and faster rider than most and could be of assistance to them, because she knew what that disappointing answer would be.
"Thank you," He nodded, "We should be back within a few days."
"I'll spend all my time pacing and fretting until you return, brother." She said it with an innocent air about her which was immediately belayed by the smirk she said it with.
Ned chuckled. "I'd expect nothing less."
Robert had watched their exchange in silence. He dipped his head to her, "Lyanna."
"Robert," she returned, but it suddenly felt like such an inadequate response after everything she saw and discussed with him. And yet that was all that could be said as they left the godswood while she chose to linger.
She felt the silent gaze of the weirwood tree and met its red eyes. She dipped her head in deference to the old gods. She welcomed the peaceful calm that came over her which helped to settle her restless thoughts and confusing emotions that were beginning to tangle up with each other.
Lyanna dare not voice them aloud.
They hear me, she knew with certainty upon hearing the pale branches above her swaying in the breeze. So hopefully they'll answer me.
Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com
Daeron:
The skirmish was over. Men were killed on both sides, and he had killed his first man.
A feat that evoked little within him. I felt nothing . When Dark Sister ended that bandit's life.
Why would you? That sounded like Father. A dragon is responsible to no man. Remember that, my son.
In that moment, it wasn't reflections of kills made that had spurred him through the field of carnage where horses and men were strewn about, dead and dying.
All that drove him was his betrothed.
Cersei.
With each speedy step he moved towards her.
Cersei.
Daeron had put Ser Arthur in charge of clean up and recovery now that Lord Buckler's forces had joined theirs and secured the area. He knew there were other matters to tend to and oversee such as the wounded and the dead, but it was Cersei, he needed to see.
It didn't matter that he already knew they were safe. It had been reported that the Lady Lysa had fainted, and Ser Gwayne had been injured, and those were things he needed to address, but they had to wait. It all had to wait.
Daeron needed to see her with his own eyes.
And then there she was before him.
Glorious.
He could not help but admire her. Once the uncertainty faded and relief filled him upon knowing she was truly well.
Her eyes burned like wildfire. Her golden hair fell about her, messy and loose, and not even the specks of enemy's blood upon her dress could deter his appreciation of the beauty in front of him.
That was when they embraced. She did not shake in his arms. She was still and certain. She did not weep into his shoulder. She did not lament. There was no doubt in her.
She was steel in silk.
He kissed her hair and held her. Thankful to have her with him.
She moved in his arms, but only to bury herself closer to him. He did not protest, the scent of blood, sweat, and wildflowers clung to her like some strange perfume.
"You saved me," She said softly.
"What?" He was confused by such an odd declaration. He had done nothing of the sort, and it was not something he'd forget. I was not there.
Cersei looked up at him. Her eyes glimmered like emeralds in the sunlight. "The sword, the training," She clarified, "If it wasn't for such things-"
He gave a slight nod and was thankful she did not continue. He did not want to think of such things.
"You would have still prevailed, my lady."
It was her who was now confused so he added.
"You are too fierce to do anything other than triumph."
A slow smile came to her lips. She put a hand to his cheek. "Are you well?"
"I am now."
She kissed him, a tantalizing kiss that had him holding her tightly to him. He could feel the slow stirring in his chest. A soft moan escaped her lips and heat burned through him. Daeron felt more primal then prince in those scant heartbeats.
"Prince Daeron." Ser Arthur's voice was an unwanted jolt that broke them apart.
A flash of annoyance flickered across her pretty face. Her mouth pressed into a thin line.
"Yes?" He kept his tone in check for the interruption, because he knew the knight was doing his duty, and Daeron too had duties that he needed to see.
"We've put the wounded on wagons," He reported, nearing them. "Lord Buckler will send more for the corpses."
"Very good," Daeron nodded, "How many did we lose?"
"More than a dozen, my prince," Ser Arthur frowned. "They were well coordinated. Further proof they were waiting for us was with those fallen logs."
Daeron remembered the trick. Their caravan had been stretched. That was further exploited with the fallen timbers onto the road to further divide and separate the two sides. That had been when they struck from the woods.
"They were mostly guards," the knight continued, "The only noble we lost was this ward for Lord Tully," Arthur looked to be trying to remember the name, "Petyr Baelish," He shrugged, unsure if he got it right.
"We shall take his corpse with the wounded," Daeron wasn't aware of a House Baelish or even where their holdings were. If he was a ward to Lord Tully, he suspected maybe somewhere in the Riverlands.
"Is is the Brotherhood?"
"It is," Arthur confirmed grimly, "We have two survivors."
He felt his betrothed's fingers interlaced with his. "Inform Lord Buckler that I will have need of his gallows."
"My Prince," Surprise spread across the knight's face, "They've surrendered to me, I accepted in the promise of mercy and the Black."
He and Cersei had already begun walking back to join the rest what remained of their party as well as Lord Buckler's. "They attacked a royal party, Ser Arthur." He turned back, "There will be no mercy. There will only be justice."
Daeron, you must reconsider-"
"Enough," Daeron cut in sharply. "Have a care, Ser Arthur," He raised a finger in warning. "Your words may be well intentioned, but you are speaking to a Prince." Unhappy at the knight's tone and manner of address. "You gave promises you could not keep. That was your error not mine," He observed coolly. "If you will not follow my orders then ride back to King's Landing and send me a knight who will."
"How is he?"
"Ser Gwayne will recover," Prince Daeron found his betrothed in the Bronzegate's hall. He took the empty seat beside her.
He had just returned from visiting his sworn shield in one of the guest chambers that Lord Buckler had provided for them. The Lord of the Bronzegate proved to be a gracious host to the prince's surviving retinue, surrendering all the available rooms he could give them as well as food and ale for the weary and hungry.
Lord Buckler had also sent a raven to Robert to inform him of what transpired. Storm's End had wrote promptly back that more men and supplies will be arriving in the company of Robert and the rest of his party.
"I am glad."
A servant was quick to present him a plate and a filled glass, he nodded his thanks.
Gwayne had been smiling and joking, though laughter did seem to make him wince. The maester for Bronzegate said the knight would need more rest in order to recover and suspected it would be months for him to be ready to return for duty.
A diagnosis that Gwayne tried to dismiss at once, until he grimaced from the sudden movement he made. He then quietly and discreetly lay back down.
"You've given him quite the story."
Cersei looked up from her plate where her food looked mostly untouched. "He is not upset?"
"Upset?" Daeron shook his head, "He'll be pleased to tell it! You know him. How he loves his stories. He'll endure it and embellish it." He chuckled, and was pleased at the small smile that came to her. "He'll add that you were fighting a dozen men while he fought wounded with four arrows in him."
Cersei laughed at that. "Is that right?" She asked amused before she drank from her glass.
"I'm sure his exaggerations will be even grander," He had finished the warm bread and moved to wash it down with the strong ale that the Stormlands liked to boast of. "Besides," Daeron put down his tankard to give his betrothed his full attention, "There is nothing wrong with you saving him," Wondering if he properly guessed her odd mood. "Aegon the Conqueror himself was saved by his wife."
"Visenya," She muttered.
"Yes," He agreed, "And you are my Visenya." He knew Visenya's sins and her chilly relationship with her husband, Aegon, but to Daeron he hoped his betrothed understood what he truly meant with his declaration.
Mayhaps, I've erred, he realized to his growing trepidation in seeing his words seemed to only further cause her inattentiveness and distance. It had been briefly lifted with his earlier japes, but it returned swiftly enough.
Is she upset about that bandit she killed? He did not think that was it.
Suddenly one of Lord Buckler's men at arms came running in. "My Prince," he greeted him with a hasty bow, "Lord Robert arrives!" A loud cheer went up from the men, "And we've spotted the banners for Stark, Lannister, and Arryn too."
"Very well," He stood up, turning to her to see the news of Lannister banners caused her to look up, and a smile was on her lips, but there was little of it in her eyes.
"Shall we go meet them?" He offered her his arm which she duly took for her answer.
"I would like that," she replied with a warm smile that helped to alleviate his concern.
And with that, he and his betrothed left the hall to greet their friends' newly arrived party.
Burn them! His father's cackle pricked inside him like hot needles. Burn them!
The bandits who had thrown down their swords in surrender were now being marched to be executed. Lord Buckler having prepared the gallows for the criminals. Lord Buckler deferred the task of the punishment to him as he was a Prince. The entire castle had gathered, servants and guards as had those brought by his cousin, and his friends, Jaime and Ned.
In the backdrop on the walls the banners for Targaryen, Baratheon, Stark, Lannister, Tully, Arryn, and Buckler swayed gently in the breeze.
He would not forget how when his friends had heard of his distress and they had come urgently to his side. Or in seeing not just their relief that he was well but the anger on an attack against his person.
Robert's rage was loud and booming, Ned's was simmering but silent, and Jaime's was hidden behind a smirk, but it was just as potent. His words and frustration were sharp and cutting.
They were all standing behind him. Ser Brynden and his squire Denys were there. The former remained troubled and upset with himself for having failed to have protected the Tully ward. He had lost sight of him in the heat of battle.
Ladies Catelyn and Lysa Tully stood with their uncle, quiet and poised. The two sisters were mourning the loss of their friend, the Tully ward. The Lady Lysa had recovered from her distress that had caused her to faint. She had since thanked his betrothed several times, and seemed to look at her differently in the aftermath of the attack.
Cersei was standing beside him. Her eyes were hard when they looked at the criminals. The men who dared to attack them.
Feed them to the flames! The voice returned. Let them feel the dragon's wrath, let them burn in it!
A small part of himself began to waver.
Why shouldn't they suffer? Vengeance stirred within him like a waking dragon.
They attacked me. They tried to kill me.
His mind then cruelly hinted what would have befallen his betrothed had their raid been successful. The dragon roared to show its displeasure, it was a burning intensity.
The order was on his lips to rescind his decision. He'd send them to his father. That would please him. A show of my fealty to him as well as allowing a fitting punishment to these rogues, who dared attack their party.
Images flickered across his vision of the men burning in the great hall and he could not deny the deviant satisfaction he felt upon watching it.
What of your mother? A new voice made itself heard through the thick haze of his growing wrath.
He knew what happened to Mother when Father burned men alive. He visited.
It was a sobering chill that cut even deeper. It began to lift that manic grip that had latched onto his heart, poisoning his blood with such a demented taste of vengeance.
So what? His father's cruel voice returned. They would've raped your betrothed. They would've killed her.
That was the kindling to the dying fire inside him which suddenly sparked and crackled, growing hotter and brighter.
Cersei, your pretty betrothed, naked, bruised, and bloodied, The voice hissed, with a red slash across her pale throat.
You're a dragon so let them burn.
For one long second, his heart was armored by indifference. He was ready to change his mind. In that heartbeat, he put aside any thought or concern for anything or anyone else so that he could have his reckoning.
Let them burn.
It was her that pulled him away from those poisonous chains. Cersei had touched his hand, bringing him out of his thoughts and onto the foreground where the headsmen was waiting for his orders. There was a solemn silence in the air as the crowd watched and waited for him to give his verdict.
"Hang them."
He watched the men die in stony silence.
The bodies twitched and turned on the ropes.
Daeron felt sick. It was not for ordering or overseeing their deaths.
No, it was that lapse, no matter how brief that had so thoroughly consumed him.
Who am I?
Jaime:
The wedding between Ned and Ashara had moved forward without delay once the Prince's retinue had arrived to Storm's End.
Northern weddings were often held at night, which allowed several hours to prepare and make ready for it, and the Prince would not hear of further impediments to their union.
Robert had unsurprisingly readily agreed with his cousin at the chance for a feast and celebration.
Jaime quietly noted Ned's protest seemed more show then sincere. He knew Ned was quite eager to marry his betrothed. The Lady Dayne did not even bother to hide behind bland words that were expected of ladies of high birth in regards to their life and virtue. She openly voiced her agreement with the Prince and Robert, and that was that.
What followed was to Jaime the fastest wedding he had ever been apart of.
It had been dark and eerily peaceful. Jaime had just settled himself for the ceremony, resigned to what followed. He suspected it was on the Old Gods and their ways and why they should be followed or obeyed, then chanting and prayers and songs to praise them, but to his surprise none of that had happened. It was suddenly over before he could realize it.
One minute, Lady Ashara was being escorted by her brother to the weirwood tree where Ned stood waiting, quiet and smiling. A short exchange followed and then Ned was carrying his new wife into the hall for a feast.
The solemn wolf was anything but with his wife in his arms.
Jaime was left to follow the guests in disbelief at the quickness of it all.
"Why didn't we have our wedding in the godswood?"
"We don't follow the Old Gods, dear," Elia reminded him, her voice barely carrying over the noise.
The Round Hall was raucous and loud for the wedding feast.
Robert had provided the food, drink, and entertainment for his friend's wedding. He saw it as his duty as his liege lord, though Jaime doubted Robert was this generous or even generally aware of his other bannermen.
Jaime saw that as a minor snag. "Had I known how swiftly they conducted weddings I may have reconsidered," He scratched at his chin, pleased at the sound of his wife's laughter. "In fact, I think I may have converted."
"That's blasphemy, Jaime," she patiently pointed out with a light tone rich in mirth.
Jaime dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "You didn't have to endure all that singing and praying," He rolled his eyes at all the theatrics and gimmicks that were coated in their ceremony.
"Are you saying that the wait wasn't worth it?"
"Never," he spluttered, realizing that he was dangerously close to saying or implying a very wrong and bad thing he'd never say. His concern for such an offense was short lived as his inward panic stilled upon hearing Elia's lovely laughter.
"I am glad," She squeezed his hand. Her eyes shimmered in the candlelight.
He leaned forward to meet her lips. She welcomed it with a hum, but before he could begin to truly savor her lips against his, they were interrupted.
"The lion pounces!" Robert's booming voice brought up a great cheer from the other onlookers.
Jaime made sure to send a pointed look and a gesture towards his friend. The latter earned him a mild rebuke from his wife and roaring laughter from Robert and others.
He looked towards the bride and groom, noticing how lively the two were together sitting alone at the high table.
Robert had put himself as close to Ned as he could and had Ned's sister on his other side. Then it was Ned's brother Benjen with Lord Arryn and his heir, Denys, with the Tullys beside him.
They had found themselves on Ashara's side due to the sisterly bond between his wife and the bride.
Prince Daeron had given leave for Ser Arthur to have the night off. The knight was not receptive to what he saw as a dereliction of duty. So the two compromised, Arthur had given himself an hour to eat, drink, and celebrate with his sister before insisting he returned to his duty. Jaime understood and respected the knight's insistence Ser Gwayne was injured and went back to King's Landing.
The Sword of the Morning proved true to form and tale.
His wife sat behind the contemplative knight who seemed determined to make sure everyone saw his struggle at having to stray from his duty. Jaime sat to her other side. His sister was on his other side and then his friend and Prince sat beside her. Robert had put his brothers at their table and they sat on the Prince's other side as well as their niece, the bastard born, Mya Storm. It was not seemly to seat a bastard so high, but Robert didn't really care and would hear no argument.
There was only a few Stormlords in attendance. It seemed Robert didn't give it much thought to invite all of them. Lord Buckler was here, but Jaime suspected he was only here because Robert had just visited his castle, and a few of the other closer seats to Storm's End had also joined and were spread out at the tables in front of them.
In seeing it all in front of him, he couldn't help but fondly recall their own wedding which had happened only last year, but felt so long ago which prompted him to joke. "We're now the old married couple."
"Old?" Elia picked that word from Jaime's earlier remark.
He was quick to clarify. "Well, I meant me."
"I'm older than you."
Jaime realized he should just quit before the hole gets any deeper. He then looked towards her in hopes of seeing her smiling, but he saw something else.
"Are you well?" He moved closer to her.
"I think it is the wine."
"You're not drinking it," Jaime saw her glass was still full and he had never seen any of the passing servants refill hers. "Which is strange since you always drink when I talk." He japed, and was pleased at the small smile that came to her face.
"That is true," She replied with equal charm.
He moved to take her hands, tanned and warm. "What's wrong?"
"My stomach," she confessed, "I do not want it to distract you."
"I want to be distracted when my wife is unwell."
She kissed his cheek. "Then I shall see if Maester Cressen can give me a few minutes." She rose from her seat.
Jaime moved to join her, but she put her hand on his shoulder. "You will stay and drink."
"I should go with you," He didn't like the idea of celebrating while his wife was being seen by a maester.
"You will stay," She repeated, "And if I'm truly unwell then I'll have a servant come to fetch you." She suggested as a compromise.
Jaime nodded. He didn't like it, but he knew she would insist on him staying and if he didn't relent she may not see the maester at all.
"Thank you," She showed her appreciation with a brief kiss that only made Jaime want to follow her more.
He watched her seek out the Maester who was gracious and looked unbothered at having to leave the feast to see her.
"What is wrong with Elia?" His sister's voice pulled him back to the table where she had taken Elia's empty seat and he noticed that his friend, Daeron had taken hers.
"She thinks it a bad reaction to the wine."
Her face was marred with genuine concern for her good-sister.
They had come along way, and that observation returned some of Jaime's good cheer. "She ordered me to stay and drink."
"What a cruel wife," Daeron replied dryly.
Jaime snorted, "We all suffer my prince." He drank to that and to his friend's laughter that followed.
He had been so worried for them when the news had come to Storm's End that their caravan was attacked. When he learned they were well then that relief crumbled into anger and at such a bold offense towards his family. He could only imagine his father's wroth when the news came to him in the capital.
An attack on a Lannister would not be treated lightly.
It was later when he arrived at Bronzegate was when he learned of how she handled herself in the skirmish and had actually killed a man.
She had wet her sword before him.
It seemed such a strange and ludicrous truth he nearly laughed thinking this some clever jape thought between the prince and his sister. When it was repeated as an actual truth and not a prank, Jaime's mirth had slipped away.
He was surely proud of her for taking such an action. Jaime knew of the Prince allowing her to spar and encouraging it, something Father had not been keen on, but Mother had a way of convincing him to let it lie, so he did not intervene.
Still for her to fight and kill someone and to do so before me.
How often did a sister beat a brother in such a thing?
It was a strange and hollow feeling, but he did not wish to express it aloud and tried his best to keep it hidden. A good jape can be just as good as a shield to hide behind.
"So sister will you be knighted before me?" Jaime grinned.
There was something else. He did not like it, but he could not deny its existence. This seedling of something ugly that moved within at the news of his sister's triumph and how she had bested him at something he never expected. He'd quashed it whenever it stirred its sour discontent.
"I think not," she replied with a small, but faint smile. "I wouldn't wish to steal all your glory."
"There is a matter I wish to discuss with you, Jaime," The Prince spoke softly, but it was his tone that captured Jaime's attention before he could reply to his sister.
He felt the warm mirth begin to deflate. "Of course," He assured his friend.
"I've received a raven," Daeron revealed, "Ser Barristan is coming to Storm's End to replace Ser Gwayne and with men and orders." He straightened up in his seat. "My father, the king has ordered me to find and destroy this Brotherhood. I would ask if you would like to join me?"
"I will," Jaime readily accepted. "I would be honored."
Daeron looked relieved. "Good, I'm glad to have you at my side. I hope to speak to the others."
"Do you even need to ask Robert?" Jaime joked.
That got some of the solemness that was set on the prince's face to thaw. "No, I suppose not."
"Do you not think it wiser, Jaime, to ask or at least tell your wife of this adventure you are set to go on."
Cersei's reminder was a bucket of cold water on his unbound excitement.
"I will tell her," Jaime did not think she would have a problem with it. Yes, they were going after armed men, but they were certainly going to be better prepared as well as informed this time around after that attack on the caravan.
"Tell who?" Elia had returned, looking radiant.
"What did Cressen say?" Jaime got out of his chair to greet her, relieved to see she looked renewed.
"It was nothing," she sat down beside him. His sister vacating her seat and moved to the empty one. "Cressen supplied me with a tonic."
"Good."
"Now what and who was it you were going to tell?"
"That's a little confusing," Jaime pointed out.
Elia did not find that as amusing as he hoped.
"It was you," He decided it was better to be quick and blunt then draw it out any further, "And the Prince has been assigned to take down the Brotherhood and has asked for me to join him."
"And you accepted." It wasn't a question.
"Perhaps."
"Very well," she acquiesced, "As long as you don't do anything foolish."
That was when Prince Daeron leaned into the conversation. "Then I guess you can't go."
"Uncle Jaime."
He looked down into the very blue eyes of Mya Storm. Robert's daughter had somehow found her way to him. He'd blame the revelry for that as the feast and celebration of the wedding was still in full effect.
"Up, Uncle Jaime," She pulled on his sleeve.
As any good uncle would, he complied. Jaime lifted her up and into his lap where she was quite delighted to squirm around this way and that watching and mimicking the dancing guests in front of them.
His wife was beside him. They had returned to their seats after a few dances themselves before Elia asked for a reprieve which he gladly gave.
"Papa!" Mya was pointing across the room to where Robert was.
"That's right," Elia said sweetly, making the girl preen with pride.
Robert was talking to Ned and Ashara.
He then moved away to where most of the guests had gathered to drink and dance. He let out a very loud whistle that cut through all the din of the hall and brought every eye in the room on him.
Robert greeted their gazes with a large grin. "Who thinks they can beat me?" He raised his hands as if to flame the fervent voices that rose to meet his challenge. "Drinking or fighting," He held up one of his arms and flexed a rather impressively large muscle that caused more than a few of the women to blush and smile in their admiration.
The dancing was forgotten as was much of the conversing. They began to move their way to where the Lord of Storm's End was. He was sitting and waiting and drinking. "There be a fine reward for the one who is able to beat me."
That had brought the rest over forming a large crowd which circled around Robert, buzzing in anticipation to the first challenger. Nobles, knights, and the servants were all drawn in by Robert's boasting and easy charm.
It was only from his seat at the table did Jaime notice Ned and Ashara slip away. The guests all had their backs turned, focused on Robert and were unable to see the couple exit.
"I wonder how they'll react when they finally notice," Elia had noticed too. Her mood had steadily improved throughout the night.
Whatever tonic Cressen had given her had been very effective. He'd have to thank him the next time he saw him. He loved to see his wife in such high spirits.
"He didn't do that for our wedding." Jaime felt a little offended. It was mostly for show, but still, the bedding was not a pleasing experience in his opinion. "I just don't think its fair," Jaime turned away after Robert had soundly beaten his first opponent, a knight in Robert's service.
"I mean if I had to be stripped down and pinched by a bunch of women then Ned should too," Jaime gave a dramatic shudder. "It's been very hard to hold a conversation with Lady Crakehall now that she's glimpsed certain parts of me. Or Lady Swyft who helped to rip my trousers off."
Elia snorted, but did not sound the least bit sympathetic.
"Our bannermen, and the guards and servants seeing me nearly naked," Jaime added the last word in a whisper. Mya was still on his lap, but her attention was on her father who was continuing to defeat challenger after another. "How are they suppose to take me seriously?"
He didn't get an answer because that was when Mya turned around to face him. Her smile was bright and infectious just like her father's. She was fascinated by the golden lion brooch he wore on his doublet. And began roaring to it.
With one arm still holding her in place, Jaime could only laugh.
"Isn't this a father's responsibility?" He asked in an utterly unserious manner.
"I think it suits you rather well."
"Is that right?" He turned to his wife.
She was smiling and her eyes shone with a warm hue. "It is."
"Well," Jaime drawled, "I'll never protest trying to have them." He winked at her.
Elia laughed and shook her head. Her raven colored hair beginning to slip out of their braids.
Mya then decided his chin was more interesting, clasping it with both hands and then began to explore the rest of his face with her small hands which included poking his nose. When Jaime tried to stop her, she giggled thinking it was a game and that only further encouraged her.
Jaime remembering his time with Tyrion at this age decided the best tactic was tickling. It was swift and effective. She burst out giggling and her face began to redden. She squirmed and protested, but her small hands couldn't deter him.
"No fair!" She squealed in between her laughter.
"I can no longer tell who's the child," Elia observed.
Jaime decided to give the girl a respite. She sagged against his chest. Her breathing was still a bit haggard, but she had quieted. He assumed she was tired out by all of the excitement as well as the late hour.
"You handled her rather well," Elia had moved closer to him. One of her hands going through the girl's dark curls. "That is good to see," She kissed his cheek before her mouth went to his ear, "Because I'm pregnant."
Curious to see what Daeron does next? You can get a head start on Daeron the Defiant: A Second Dance of Dragons by checking out the early chapters on my Website at https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com
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