The Kids Are All Right
Summary: A delegation from the North brings four children together in the year of 194 AC, changing the course of history in Westeros as we know it.
Princes Valarr and Daeron make new friends, use their wiles to commit grand theft from the kennels, somehow manage to get jam on the Iron Throne, and make plans so that every person in Westeros shall be given a puppy. By order of the future King Valarr, of course, and the Hand of the Hand, Prince Daeron. Otherwise known as the first dragonrider in decades, or at least he will be. One day.
(Featuring Daeron being utterly adorable, Valarr attempting to use his status to make septas bring puppies to the godswood, Alysanne Stark being an absolute terror of a five year old, and Wyle Manderly there for the ride as all ride or die friends truly are.)
Main Characters: Daeron Targaryen, Valarr Targareyn, Alysanne Stark, Wyle Manderly, a pack of puppies
Other(s): Maekar Targaryen, Baelor Targaryen, Valarr Targaryen, Kiera of Tyrosh, Lonnel Snow, Beron Stark, King Daeron II, Queen Myriah, and the Kingsguard
AO3 Link
When it would be looked back on by historians years later, centuries in the future, some will point out that the catalyst would be Beron Stark’s reluctant agreement to take his youngest daughter down alongside his third eldest son to King’s Landing. Had he not done so and left the child, then five, at Winterfell, then possibly nothing would have come of the meeting other than the increased funding sent to the Night’s Watch and permission for House Manderly to construct a trading fleet.
Fostering a prince? Even if the prince was the firstborn of a fourth son, he was still a prince, and the Targaryens did not normally do fosterings save in the rare instances that it was to a family related by blood (i.e. the fostering of Prince Daeron the Daring in Oldtown by his Hightower relations and the fostering Baela Targayen in Driftmark by Princess Rhaenys her maternal grandmother, both notable examples). It was common knowledge at this point of time none of the members of the royal family were fostered away, as King Daeron wanted to keep them close. Fostering might give another family strange ideas, so the rumors had said, and he wanted to keep eyes on all of those who had dragon blood. Just in case.
But had it not been for the antics of children, then perhaps Prince Daeron would not have been sent North, becoming the first Targaryen Prince in near on eighty years to hatch a dragon egg in the process, Wyle Manderly would not have the chief architect and first commander of the great Ice Fleet and later on Master of Ships, and Alysanne Stark would not have become the first female Hand of the King in the history of the Seven Kingdoms (though given the addition of Dorne following the marriage of King Daeron II and Queen Myriah, and the Crownlands being considered its own territory, it should be worth considering several historians believe it to be more appropriate to count nine kingdoms) to a future king, who at that point had been but a child of six and considered that perhaps the sex of his choice would have no bearing, just that it would do to have a steady, reliable, fun Hand.
King Valarr I, who later successfully campaigned for and established absolute cognatic primogeniture codified throughout Westeros as merely one of his major reforms to the workings of the land, would later be recorded as saying, “You must know we were but children though the gods work in mysterious ways. Better for the realm in any case.”
Several accounts of what occurred could be considered first-person witnesses, as recorded in diaries of various royal household members, the royal family, and their respective relations. Yet many of those accounts seem to contradict one another, painting a picture of a time that is still hotly debated to this day. What can be agreed on is that the children had, at multiple points, been left unsupervised by the adults that were to be engaged in keeping them on task, and that much of what did happen was purely for enjoyment and pleasure, with little regard to prosperity and royal customs. Lifelong bonds were cemented and a country would greatly benefit later on.
~~~
The Red Keep, King’s Landing, 194 AC
Daeron has never met someone from the North before. Not in person.
He dreamt there were wolves in the Red Keep. Not mean wolves, or scary wolves, just wolves, and there was a very little wolf pup who he played with. Then he woke up and when it was time to meet Mama and Papa for breakfast, he told them as such, and asked if he could have a pet wolf. Mama had laughed, and Papa had a smile that was like he wanted to laugh too, but all he did was ruffle Daeron’s hair and tell him wolves were not pets but he could see about a puppy from the kennels for his next nameday.
So yes, he never met a wolf from the North, but there were wolves now, in the hall where the Iron Throne is. They were just people, but a few of the guards had said Starks were wolves, and one said no, they were direwolves, and Daeron, who was running from the maester and not wanting to go to lessons and instead looking to find Valarr to play with, heard everything.
He got caught and had to go back to lessons, regardless of his arguments. They were very good arguments and Papa would be proud that he did not use the naughty word that Papa was very fond of.
So yes, now he was seeing people-wolves which were from the North, for the very first time.
It is almost exactly like his dream. Except they are people and not big wolves.
Daeron has to stand with his family as they meet the Starks from the North. Not all the Starks are there, but some of the Starks, and there are Manderlys too, and an Umber, a Bolton, and a Dustin, and someone said there was a Snow too. Uncle Baelor had made a funny face when they walked in, but then stopped when Valarr asked him if he was sick. Grandsire the King asked that everyone come welcome the people from the North because they had traveled a very long way. Uncle Brynden is there, and Aunt Shiera, even if they are Papa’s uncle and aunt, are young like Papa and Uncle Baelor and Uncle Aerys and Uncle Rhagael.
So yes, there are wolves in the Red Keep. People-wolves.
“Mama, see, I dreamt it,” he tells her, tugging on his mother’s sleeve, and pointing to the people before his kingly grandsire.
“Daeron, they are people, not wolves.” Mama is gentle when she talks, and has a smile too, but quickly reminds him to stay quiet when his grandsire welcomes them. He is big enough he can stay, like Valarr, but little Aerion is only almost three and is in the nursery still. Valarr is giggling, and not quiet too, and getting a tap on his head from his lady mother now. Aunty Jena said something about not getting any lemoncake after supper if Valarr kept giggling, but Daeron would sneak him some so that was okay too.
He watches as they eat bread and salt, and the man with the long face, short beard, and really dark grey eyes steps forward, introducing himself as Lord Beron, brother to Lord Rodwell Stark, Warden of the North, heir to his elder brother. He has sons, the third of them with him, and he all steps forward, bowing his head. He looks very much like his lord father, big and tall and dark haired, and that must be what Starks look like.
There is another head, a little girl, and Daeron blinks, trying to find the rest of her. She is hiding behind another person’s legs, the man with very green eyes that was called Snow, and she looks familiar to him. Like he had a dream but she was not in the dream, only the wolf pup was in the dream, and they have the same eyes.
“Mama?”
“Shhhh Daeron.”
Lord Beron then introduces the girl, beckoning her to come forward, calling her Alysanne, and she is gently pushed by the green-eyed man to go towards her father. But little Alysanne shakes her head, looking at Daeron’s family, a frown on her face, as if she is looking for someone.
Then she looks at Daeron.
Daeron blinks.
Alysanne blinks. And smiles. And points at him, shaking with excitement.
Daeron does not think he is particularly interesting. He does not look like Papa who is very much a dragon prince, but like Mama who is starlight according to his Papa, which is much more beautiful. But clearly this Alysanne girl does think he is interesting because instead of walking up to her father she starts running to him along with another boy, who has dark hair that is also green but is not a Stark, and drags the boy with him, much to the horror of every adult in the room. Except the green-eyed man who is starting to laugh.
She stops in front of him, and he knows his face is red, his eyes are now very big, and this is a very strange girl. He has no girl cousins or sisters yet but she must be a strange girl, because she grabs his hand, and Mama is gasping, Papa looks funny, and there is a squeal of happiness from the girl.
“See, our dragon is real!”
“Aly, that’s a prince.”
“A dragon prince. I saw him when I slept. He’s real, like the dragon in my dream.”
The girl looks at him, uncaring that everyone is staring, there is laughter, and grabs Daeron’s hand. His face feels warm. Very warm. He looks down at the hand, then at this girl, who is now Aly and not Alysanne, and sees she has big grey eyes that have green in them, and her hair is in a very messy braid because she ran, and he looks at the other boy with green in his hair, and lets out a squeak when she tugs his hand.
“You are Daeron, the dragon prince my dream,” she says loudly, and suddenly Daeron wishes he was in the nursery with Aerion because everyone is looking at them, and he is red, and there is a girl holding his hand.
“But I’m a boy.”
“And you rode a dragon.”
“Aly you-”
“You rode a big dragon and it was the color of your hair and we were on the dragon with you and we flew, it was real, like you are real. I saw it.”
“I don’t-”
“Aly-”
“It was real and you were big and I was big and Wyle was big, and it was fun.”
Daeron is very, very red, and looking at this girl, with very pretty eyes, and then back to his Mama who looks like she is trying not to laugh, his Papa who is staring at the girl with a very funny face, and then back at the girl who is still talking about this dream, and the room is very, very warm.
“You were a wolf! In my dream! You were a wolf!”
Oh. That was him. Yelling. He was not supposed to yell. Princes do not yell at strange girls, even if they are very weird and holding his hand and talking about dreams being real.
Except, his dreams sometimes are real.
It gets Aly the weird girl to stop talking just long enough for the green-eyed man to come and scoop her up into his arms, hoisting her over his shoulder like she is a sack of potatoes, and walking away despite the multiple yells mixed in with very odd sentences about Daeron being a dragon. She’s waving from her spot on his shoulder, still talking about dragons and wolves and dreams and saying she saw Daeron in her sleep. The boy named Wyle is holding the free hand of the green-eyed man, but turns around to give Daeron a smile and a wave back with his own free hand.
Daeron is very, very confused, but waves to them both. He is a prince and must be polite.
“Mama?”
Mama looks down at him, and so does Papa, and he thinks they both are trying not to laugh at this.
“Northerners and girls are strange.”
The Next Day
“Lonnel, where is my daughter?”
“She is not with Wyle?”
“... no…”
“Shit!”
~~~
Maekar stares at the strange little northern girl, who is looking right at him with big eyes, a wobbly pout, and not supposed to be in the room where the Small Council is about to meet with the King and the northern representatives. No one else is supposed to be in this room at the moment, besides he and his brother. How in the seven hells did she manage to end up in this room? And why is she standing on the chair?
Scratch that, she is making eye contact with him, and is standing on it to be eye level, he understood that now. Wanting to be tall when you were short is something he understood when he was her age..
“May Prince Daeron come to play with me and Wyle?”
Maekar blinks. And stares.
It is not an unreasonable request.
But how did she get in?
He turns to look at Baelor, who is trying his best not to laugh, and Maekar shakes his head, before turning back to the girl. Alysanne, if he remembers correctly, still looks at him with those sad eyes, and if he were not a battle hardened warrior, he would melt instantly.
“Of course. I am sure that Prince Valarr also would like to play.”
That earns him a smile in return. Really she is an adorable thing, and it was just childish antics, no harm done. She could not be older than Daeron, and the Manderly boy would be with them as well. No harm in letting the children enjoy the company of one another.
He turns to face Baelor, who is making the strangest face right now, as if torn between letting things unfold and protesting for some strange reason. Maekar cannot help but scowl at his elder brother. Really, these are children, no matter how strange they are, they are not monsters.
“Brother, are you sure-”
“I am sure Prince Baelor would love to let his son play with his cousin and make new friends with our Northern guests.”
That shuts up Baelor, who looks a tad mortified at the sudden lack of decorum he had presented, in front of a child no less, and normally it is Maekar doing such foolish things. Oh how the tables have turned. See, he can handle soft politics now and then. He turns to look at the girl.
Delighted, that is one way to describe the look on her face, and there is a gleam in her eyes that is slowly edging on something otherworldly, which Maekar would like to put into words. Yet his mind is failing him.
“May Prince Daeron visit Winterfell?”
Uh. What?
“And may he visit the godswood?”
Something in his brain freezes.
“And may he marry me and Wyle?”
What the fuck?
“That’s a naughty word. I’m not allowed to say fuck.”
Did he say that outloud? Maekar turns to Baelor, who now looks like he is going to burst out laughing again, and clearly he said that last bit outloud. Which he normally would not do in front of children that young. Grown men, yes. Little girls of noble birth? No.
His wife would punish him.
And not in the fun way.
Dyanna was scary when angry. And he did not wish to upset his wife by accidentally cursing at a child.
“Shit…”
“That’s also a naughty word. I’m not allowed to say shit too.”
May the Seven give him the patience and strength to deal with this child.
“There you are, little direwolf.”
Thanks are sent to the old gods and new, because Lord Beron’s bastard brother Lonnel Snow is there at the door, looking a tad bit frantic. His eyes, a strange mossy green that seem to glow, lock onto the child standing on the chair with such intensity he would think the little lady the bastard’s own daughter. Maekar watches as the man marches right up to scoop the little girl and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes like he had done the previous day, shaking his head and muttering a string of words in Old Tongue that must not be for polite company.
Words that clearly the girl understands, obviously by her commentary to her uncle, admonishing the bastard in the same tone she did with Maekar.
“Papa said you can’t say those words in front of me.”
“Yes, well, your father also told you not to run off, and yet here we are.”
Lonnel Snow sighs, and Maekar has the faintest idea that this may be a common occurrence in Winterfell, not that he is judging any parenting. Lord Beron has five children and a pregnant wife, and may the gods bless that man with the patience of a saint if all his children are like his youngest daughter. He himself has no idea how he would handle such chaos, and knows that any children he and Dyanna may have after Daeron and Aerion will be exemplary little people.
“I hope my niece did not put either of you in an awkward position,” says Lonnel Snow, who is turning around to face them both, despite the protests of the little lady. Maekar pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head.
It is only when his brother does not say a single word that he frowns, and looks at Baelor, who must say something and… why is his brother going pink?
No. No, absolutely not, this is not happening.
He turns to look at Lonnel, opening his mouth, but there is the bastard, grinning like a wolf. Which makes sense given his father was the previous Lord Stark, and is the bastard making bed chamber eyes at his brother?
Wait, is his brother making bed chamber eyes back?
“Congradualtions on wedding your goddess among all women, Prince Maekar,” he says, almost absently, still eying Baelor up and down, while the child is chatting away over his shoulder about weddings, dreams, and godswoods, and why Daeron must go to Winterfell now.
“I did say we might meet again one day, Prince Baelor.”
… Maekar just stares, absently waving at the child who is waving from her uncle’s shoulder, when the man turns and leaves through the door without any sort of explanation as to what the seven hells that was all about. Part of him wants to ask what that was all about from the man leaving.
It clicks when he realizes that he has, in fact, seen this man before. Years ago, in fact.
The inn that was between Summerhall and Blackhaven. He was drinking and Baelor was there, listening to him moon over Dyanna (which to be fair was entirely justified, his wife was a goddess and he would fight anyone who told him otherwise), and Baelor had been sizing up a stranger… oh… “Fuck.”
At this he spins and points at his brother.
Baelor looks embarrassed. Good.
“Baelor… tell me the fuck you didn’t.”
“... in my defense, I was not yet married. Or officially betrothed…"
“... I need a drink…”
~~~
“Snow.”
“Rivers.”
“Valar Morghulis!”
“... why is the tiny child thrown over your shoulder saying all men must die to me in High Valyrian, Snow?”
“No idea, Rivers. Must be going. She has a play date with your princely great-nephews and her companion to get to.”
~~~
Daeron did not know what the old oak did other than exist, but strange little Aly was glaring at it. So was Wyle, but not as much as Aly, and Valarr was just as confused as he was. They were playing tag before and it was Valarr’s turn to chase Daeron, but then Wyle was there. So Wyle was the one now chasing them both, right until the green-eyed man had showed up with Aly on his shoulder, plopped her down next to the tree, and warned her not to wander off to threaten Lord Rivers again, much to the horror of the septa that was watching them all, all before he went somewhere else. At that point Aly had looked at the tree and so had Wyle.
“No weirwood.”
“Yup.”
“No face.”
“Yup.”
“Not a real heart tree.”
“Yup.”
They both are now staring at the tree, and Daeron wonders what is so interesting about the tree, because the only thing that really makes it important is that it is old and in the middle of the godswood. He is about to say as much, except now both of them are turning around and looking at him and Valarr, smiling, and he thinks something is going to happen.
But he is only five.
“I like puppies. Do you two like puppies?
He sees Valarr nod, because he likes puppies, and Daeron likes them too. “Papa said I will get a puppy for my nameday if I’m good,” he answers back, and that makes Aly smile. He likes her smile. It makes him feel warm. Wyle is smiling too, and that makes him feel warm also, and Daeron knows his face is going red again, but that’s ok.
“We should play with puppies. Prince Valarr, tell them to bring us puppies.”
Valarr looks confused because he normally does not get ordered by girls, because he is the heir to heir of the Iron Throne, and will be king one day. Only Daeron thinks that is exactly why Aly asks for Valarr to get the puppies brought, and not him, and it maybe makes him feel a bit weird because he wanted to get them puppies, not have Valarr do it. It makes sense. But still he wants to get the puppies.
Valarr, though, does turn to the septa, and gives her his best big eyed, wobbly lips, and sad look. “Puppies? Please?” he asks and Daeron thinks his cousin is very good at acting. However the septa does not move and simply shakes her head.
Well, ok, time to help his cousin. Just for the puppies, not for Aly and Wyle, because he wants puppies and maybe… ok he wants to watch Aly and Wyle play with puppies with him and Valarr.
Daeron steps forward, looking very, very upset. His best upset look, the one he uses on the nurses to get extra sweets, and starts to wail, very, very loudly. About puppies. And wanting to play, and he is crying very loudly, see, look how good he can act.
Both Aly and Wyle join in, and soon all four of them are crying.
Because puppies.
The septa looks very upset though and is telling them to stop, only all of them get even louder and now she’s running off saying she will get their parents and have their ears boxed.
Only now they’re alone.
All four of them stop crying.
Daeron thinks they all are very good actors.
“Puppies?” asks Aly, and she’s looking at Daeron with a smile, and so is Wyle, and even Valarr is smiling.
Now it’s his turn to help, so he grabs Aly’s hand and Wyle’s hand and Wyle grabs Valarr’s hand, and he tugs all of them forward towards where the kennels will be, because there are puppies in the kennels and he knows exactly how to get there too.
“To the puppies!” he yells, determined to get them all a puppy to play with.
~~~
“Where are the children?”
“They were just here!”
“You left two princes of royal blood, one of them the second in line to the throne and the other heir to my husband, alone in a godswood, along with the favorite daughter of the heir to Winterfell and a favored son of the largest trading house in the North, alone?”
“I’m so sorry my lady, but they-”
“Find them now.”
~~~
The mama dog is a very large, very fluffy lady dog who just had a litter of puppies two moons ago. Daeron got to see the puppies a fortnight ago and even pet the mama dog, who gave him a big lick on his face.
All of them are sitting down next to the mama dog, with her litter of seven fluffy white puppies crawling all over them.
Daeron is in heaven.
He had two puppies, one in his lap taking a nap, and another who was licking his face. They were very nice puppies, soft and squishy and with little baby puppy teeth who liked to tug on the ropes they used to play with. Valarr was petting the mama dog, and throwing a ball to the puppy that was playing with him, and then it brought the ball back like a very good puppy.
Wyle was laying down now, with a puppy on his tummy, and they were taking a nap. He looked very happy and cozy and Daeron wished there was a blanket so he could be even more cozy.
Three puppies were playing with Aly, trying to nip and tug her braid. “No, not for puppies, for people,” she had said, but was giggling too, which made Daeron giggle, and then Valarr was giggling, and Wyle woke up to giggle too.
It was fun.
Northerners were very fun.
“Can we go to the North and pet wolf puppies?” he asks suddenly, because wouldn’t that be a great adventure? And then his dream could come true, and that would be a very fine dream, yes it would be.
Both Aly and Wyle smile at that and even Valarr looks like he wants to go to the North, and they should ask Grandsire the King if they all can go to Winterfell.
“Prince Maekar, your papa, said fuck, so I think that means yes?”
Oh, that’s the naughty word he is not allowed to say but if Papa said fuck, then it has to mean yes.
~~~
“Did you think to check where puppies might be?”
“Apologies, your graces. I’ll-”
“You are dismissed, Septa Jeyne.”
~~~
“Rivers.”
“Snow.”
“Valar Morghulis!”
“Valar Morghulis!”
“Valar Morghulis!”
“Valar Morghulis!”
“... Snow, did your niece teach the other children to say that to me?”
“Honestly I have no idea, really I don’t, I’m not even sure who would have taught her High Valyrian in the first place. We’re Starks and we never did get that Targaryen princess that was supposed to marry into our house, so I’m not entirely sure where she could’ve picked it up.”
“Of course.”
“Absolutely.”
“... you take yours and I’ll take mine?”
“Deal.”
~~~
Maekar was not expecting the door to swing open suddenly and without warning, in the middle of this meeting with not only the King and Small Council, but also their new northern friends.
And if anyone were to ask, the yanking of a particularly nasty knife and holding it out was a perfectly normal reaction, not paranoid at all.
But what he was not expecting was his uncle Brynden strolling into the room with two children on his shoulders. Two squirming, wiggly, red-and-black-clothed children arguing with Brynden over not being able to play with puppies at an ungodly loud volume, and hold up, one of those children is his own.
“What the fuck?”
He just only manages to dodge the shove Baelor gives him just in time to see Lonnel Snow behind him, with two children on his shoulders, both of them wiggling and squirming and trying to escape, yapping on about wanting to cuddle puppies too, that this was unjust, unfair, and unacceptable.
Brynden plops Daeron down in his lap, which makes his son stop his wiggling and complaining, and seems to stun the boy into silence and leave Daeron staring off into the distance in a very unsettling way. Apparently Baelor is getting the same exact treatment with Valarr, who has decided that he will outright glare at Brynden with such disdain that it seems to knock any ability to respond out of Baelor in the first place.
Little Wyle Manderly gets tossed into his father’s lap with a squeal of joy and a giggle only to quiet down when it seems the seriousness of the situation sinks in.
But Maekar, who is still rather concerned at just how quiet Daeron is, follows exactly where his son’s eyes are landing on.
Alysanne Stark.
Who is not tossed, not thrown, not heaved, but gently placed on the table in front of her father, and Maekar would say something if not for the outright cold fury in Beron Stark’s eyes.
“Explain.”
Even he has to shiver at that tone.
How in the seven hells is the girl making eye contact without any fear?
The little girl then proceeds to launch into a story involving the old oak from the godswood not being a proper heart tree, then wanting to play with puppies, Valarr asking for puppies, a septa who cannot deal with four crying children, and apparently Daeron being a savior and finding puppies for them to play with. Maekar does have to give her credit because she does not burst into tears in front of her father’s glare, a look that even has Maekar wondering if the man is, in fact, part wolf. He wonders how many grown men have felt ice cold fear when that gaze was upon them.
The man holds up a single hand to cut his daughter’s ongoing rant about how it was very unfair they were interrupted while playing with puppies, says something in Old Tongue, and only then does the girl seem to deflate.
There is a tug on his arm and he looks down to see Daeron looking at him, violet eyes wide and teary, and no, he is not falling for that, absolutely not, not even if those were Dyanna’s eyes on his son.
Ok so many he is falling for that, because those are definitely his wife’s eyes and his son’s sweet disposition, and he really is a sucker for Daeron when he is absolutely an angel, which happens to be the majority of the time when not roped into the nonsense of other children. Clearly none of this was his doing, he was just wrangled into it, if by the story that was being told. Maybe he should warn him not to fall for pretty girls’ wiles until he is old enough to think carefully about his choices, even if it is rather adorable to see.
“May I go see Winterfell, Papa?” he asks so sweetly, and there are actual tears in his eyes. Is it wrong if he wants to tell Daeorn, yes, he can go to Winterfell?
“I want to go too!” Oh, now Valarr is playing this game?
The only child in the room who has yet to say anything is the Manderly boy, who is merely content to curl up in his father’s lap and yawn, and for that Maekar thinks that one the best behaved of the bunch, truly, except for when something furry and white pops out from underneath his tunic, whimpers, then goes back to hide.
Was that a puppy?
Forget it, all of them are being menaces, even his sweet first born.
The girl turns now to face all of them, sullen and pouting, and it should not be as cute as it is, but really, the girl is adorable. No denying it.
Idly, he wonders if Beron Stark would be open to some sort of betrothal, even if Valarr might be promised to someone else, Daeron was the better option in his mind. The girl might not be a proper queen, but certainly could be a princess. It would also help solidify the trade deals and alliances with the North. With the wildness in her, it might be better for her to be his son’s wife rather than his nephew’s.
“I am sorry for behaving like a wilding and for making Prince Daeron and Prince Valarr and Wyle behave like wildings too,” she mumbles, not quite apologetic if Maekar is correct at the tone of voice.
“Alysanne. Stark.”
Maekar sees even his father, King Daeron the Good, give a shiver at that tone. Yet the girl does not, and really, what are northerners made out of?
“I am sorry and will pray to the old gods for forgiveness for my bad behavior and leading the princes and my bannerman astray.”
Not the words of a five year old, but it must have been what was said in Old Tongue.
It is only then that Maekar feels the room suddenly grow warmer, as if a chill had been lifted, and watches as the girl slides off the table and into her father’s lap, very still and very quiet. Too quiet.
And there is bark. Another bark. Several barks.
From the children.
Seven furry white heads appear, scattered around the room and from the children’s clothing, from pockets, and all four of them suddenly have smiles.
“Puppies!”
~~~
“Your niece is chaos incarnate, Snow.”
“I know, Rivers. Isn’t she adorable?”
“You are insane.”
“Mmmhmm sanity is overrated.”
~~~
Daeron is not allowed to keep any of the puppies. What he does have to do is write lines over and over, that say I will not kidnap puppies from the kennels and make septas cry for pretty girls while Maester Melaquin watches. And maybe if he is good and repents and says sorry with the gods watching over him, then he might get a puppy for his nameday. But only if he is sorry and acts like a prince should, which is not kidnapping puppies or saying Valar Morghulis to Uncle Brynden when his half-great-uncle walks into a room.
It made Aly the direwolf laugh though. And smile.
It also made Wyle the merman laugh too. He smiled too,
Daeron likes the smiles.
Even Valar has to write lines and the maester is watching them both and will not let either of them leave until the lines are finished. He has to write I will not order septas to bring me puppies if friends ask me to, which is not fun at all.
They are stuck in the room and not allowed to talk or speak or play or have anything fun until they are done with the lines only they need to fill two pages of parchment! A whole two pages, and not even with big letters, but tiny letters, and it is very unfair.
But it was worth it.
The door is opening and in comes the green-eyed man who says he is Lonnel Snow, and asks the maester to take both Aly and Wyle. They are lifted into chairs and told not to leave until they are done with their own lines, after which all four of them are to ask forgiveness from the gods for their behavior.
“You, little miss, shall write I will not tempt princes into committing crimes for me in the capital for two pages, you little ser, shall write I will not encourage my friends to tempt princes into committing crimes for her in the capital. Do you both understand?”
Both of them nod, a little glum, and Aly says something in Old Tongue, leading to the man letting out laughter and shaking his head. Daeron wants to learn Old Tongue now, along with his High Valyrian. It would be useful if he went to Winterfell. And then he could teach his new friends how to speak High Valyrian too.
“Absolutely not until you are older.”
“How old?”
“Eight and ten.”
Daeron watches this all with wide eyes until the maester brings his ruler down on the table, making everyone jump, and then sulks. This is not fun at all.
It takes an hour to write everything neatly and they are quiet until they are allowed to talk. The serving girls are bringing in lunch for them all and everyone has to put away their parchments and quills and ink before they can eat. But before that he goes and tugs on Aly’s sleeve to get her to turn around and look at him.
“What did you ask?”
Oh, she’s smiling again, and he likes that. His face is warm.
“If I can tempt princes into committing crimes, outside the capital.”
He does not know why his face is still warm but there is a nod, and that sounds much fairer than if she were to do that here. Also she will be big, and he will be big, and that means they can both tempt princes into doing crimes, whatever that means. Or will Wyle tempt princes with her? Is he the prince to be tempted?
“What does tempt mean?”
“I dunno. Uncle Lonnel said I can’t do it till I’m big though.”
“Oh. Okay.”
~~~
All four of them get marched off to the castle sept after lunch, which is not as big as the Great Sept but still big enough to pray in with many people. Only the royal family and courtiers get to use the sept, which is really important, and Daeron was told by Mama that it is an honor to pray in the sept with any royal. So he is a very good prince and holds Aly’s hand and Wyle’s hand and Wyle holds Valarr’s hand while all of them are made to walk right to it to ask the gods for forgiveness.
They make it almost inside when Aly lets go of his hand and stops walking.
“No.”
Daeron turns to look at her, very upset, because she let go of his hand and he liked holding her hand, like he liked holding Wyle’s hand.
“But we have to say sorry in front of the gods.”
“No. No sept.”
Oh. Does that mean she does not keep the new gods?
“I want a weirwood.”
Daeron looks up at Maester Melaquin, because of course he knows everything, it’s why he’s the maester that Papa had sent when lessons started. “Where are weirwoods?” Because it is only fair that she gets to pray where there is a weirwood if they are to pray in a sept. Actually, he wants to see a weirwood now, and maybe he can see how the Northern people speak to the gods. The old gods do not need books or septs or septons or septas and have less rules, so maybe he can pray to them too? Or instead of the Seven, because it seems less confusing.
“I’m sorry, little prince, but there are no weirwoods here. The closest might be in one of the Riverlords’ castles. All the wild ones were cut down ages ago.”
Daeron looks back at Aly, who is tearing up.
He does not think this is acting.
It starts with a sniffle, then a hiccup, and now Daeron is watching Aly start to cry, very loudly but real sobs, and maybe he is crying too because his eyes sting, and he wants to pray with her at the weirwood, and there are no weirwoods here, and that is very not fair. And now Wyle is crying, and Valarr is crying, and all of them are crying because how is it fair they get to pray and Aly cannot?
The gods won’t hear her, and that is not very nice.
Actually, he thinks he can fix this.
He stops his crying, if only a little bit, and only when he sees his Papa, Uncle Baelor, Grandsire, Lord Beron, and Lord Manderly come to them. Because they had to say sorry to the gods in front of them, and Daeron waits until Papa is close before throwing his whole self right to his Papa’s legs and tearing up again.
“We need weirwoods,” he manages to say in between his sniffles and buries his face into his Papa’s chest when he gets picked up. He absolutely is not acting this time because it is very sad that there are no more weirwoods here, and the Red Keep absolutely needs one. Especially so Aly can pray like they can pray, so the gods can hear her like they will hear him.
He tells this to Papa, every last word, and makes sure to try and keep his sniffling very soft, because crying over not having weirwoods might not be what princes do, and he very much wants to be a good prince so he can get a weirwood planted in the godswood or maybe go to Winterfell or both.
Both is good.
“Aly needs to pray and there are no weirwoods here. And how will the gods hear her?” he manages to get out, still sniffling. “Godswoods need weirwoods, can you ask Lord Beron for a weirwood?” A reasonable request. He can feel his father wrap big arms around him and lift him up off the ground, and Daeron buries his head into a shoulder, looking at no one in particular till he catches the eyes of his grandfather the King.
The King looks tired.
Good.
“Lord Beron, perhaps if we include a weirwood planted both here and in Summerhall, for our godswoods, as a gesture of good faith?” Oh. Grandfather King is asking for the weirwoods, and if Aly comes to visit again, then she can pray to the Old Gods and not worry about not being heard. Which is very important because the gods need to hear prayers if they were to make their judgements and guide you. Or so Mama said. That gets Aly to slowly stop her tears, from where she was picked up by her own papa, and he can see Lord Beron also nod in agreement.
“May I go to Winterfell too, Papa?”
He might as well ask now.
But before Papa can answer, it is Lord Beron who says something first. He has a smile that reminds Daeron of when Uncle Baelor and Papa spar, and Papa has a smile that looks hungry. He also has that smile when he looks at Mama, which is often, and says something about being dragonblood or hot blooded or whatever it means, just that when Mama is there he has to go with the nurse or septa. He would get told that when he was older he would understand.
“We would be agreeable if the crown were to think about fostering young Prince Daeron in the North with us. Of course given his current attachment to my daughter and her companion, we also might be agreeable to letting her come south for a bit as well,” he says, and Daeron thinks that is a mighty fine idea.
Apparently so does Aly, because she stops crying and sniffling, and nods too.
Yes, a very fine idea.
~~~
“Baelor.”
“Oh, hello brother.”
“... do I even want to know what the fuck you’re doing in the rooms afforded to the Stark party?”
“A who, not a what. Distinction is important. Jena told me to confront the past and thus I shall do as she says, as she goes to spend time with that handmaiden of hers. They are very close, you see, and have been lacking in some alone time as she put it, so she sent me away to have some alone time as well.”
“... fucking hells…”
“More like wolves.”
“... fuck off, Baelor.”
“Gladly, brother, gladly."
~~~
“Lonnel.”
“Beron.”
“... why is the Crown Prince lounging like a content lizard with his head on your bare stomach?”
“You can ask him.”
“I happen to be asking you.”
“Do you wish for all the details?”
“... good night, brother. Your Highness."
~~~
Daeron is very good at sneaking.
Sneaking out of his rooms was a talent, and one he was very, very good at. He often snuck into Valarr’s rooms so they could hide under the covers of their blankets and tell scary stories about warriors and dragons and monsters until the sun came up, and then he would sneak back to his own rooms. Sometimes he would sneak out to the kitchens to find a snack and then head back without being caught. He was tiny enough that it was easy to hide. Sneaking out at night was not like sneaking out in the day, and he got caught in the day sometimes, but mostly he did his sneaking at night when everyone was supposed to sleep.
He had a plan.
First, he needed Valarr.
It was almost too easy to hide in the shadows and make his way to Valarr’s room. It was close enough no one would find him and the guard patrolling had a break that made it so very easy to run down the hall in his quietest slippers, and go right to the door, letting himself in.
“Psst, Valarr,” he hissed, going right to his cousin who was soundly sleeping in bed. He gave a little shove and that got Valarr up. His hair was messy and sticking all over the place, and Daeron laughed at that.
“Wha?”
“Puppies.”
Oh, that worked. Valarr blinked at him and rubbed sleep from his eyes and there was a nod, because he knew exactly what Daeron was thinking.
Puppies. They might have been told not to order people to get them puppies but no one said anything about bringing the puppies to them. And then they could sleep with the puppies too, which was even better. Puppy snuggles.
“But also we need to take Mama Dog so they can have their mama there too.”
Well… good point. He nodded at his cousin.
The plan was afoot.
~~~
Brynden could say something.
He absolutely should say something.
Shiera would want him to say something and he did wish to please her above all others, except that he knew exactly why Daeron and Valarr were sneaking around the Red Keep with a dog and her seven puppies, and where they were going. It did not take a greenseer to figure that out. He had watched some distance away from when he had first spotted the boys sneaking out of Valarr’s rooms and making their way down to the kennels. An odd sort of feeling overtook him and he had been up, looking for the source of said feeling.
Which was the pair of young princes committing a heist.
He had watched, curiously, as they made their way through the Red Keep in the dead of night that might have concerned others at how good one six year old and one five year old were at sneaking around undetected, and made a mental note to speak to his brother about security. If those two could do that, who else knew what sort of problems they had with the guards not at their posts?
He could say something to their fathers now.
Wake up his nephews, explain what had been seen to them, and let the boys be sorted out accordingly.
But it was amusing to see them gather the puppies into two bags and lead a sleepy full grown prized herding dog through the castle. Even more so when he saw how eerily the boys were able to avoid every single guard on patrol. Just how they managed it had to be some sort of intervention by the gods at this point. Every single guard making a turn or looking away, allowing the pair to slip past alongside a rather large fluffy white dog.
Though the amusement died when he saw where they were going.
Guest rooms.
Starks’ rooms.
Of course.
With a sigh he watched as they slipped inside alongside the animals, and closed the door. A turn of his heel and Brynden was gone, shaking his head.
Nope.
Not his circus, not his monkeys.
~~~
Baelor was having a splendid dream. It was warm, sunny, and he was digging his toes into the sand as he watched waves lap at a beachfront. No worries. No letters from lords, no overseeing taxation and harvest reports, no paperwork whatsoever, just him, the ocean, and the warmth of the sun. Also the warmth of a body was a bonus to this, and just as he was about to turn to the figure in his dream, there was the distinct sense that his face was suddenly wet.
Eyes snapped open.
Something furry, white, and wiggly was licking his face.
A puppy.
He blinked. The puppy kept on licking, even when he turned his head to the side to see if there were more.
Lonnel was to his side, face down on the bed, sprawled all over the place. Several marks dotted his neck, along with an impressive bite mark that made Baelor’s own face flush. Also the man was completely oblivious to the fact that there was a puppy currently using the top of his head as a pillow but he had to admit it was rather cute. Not something to say out loud about the man who was currently under the cover and very much to puff up if he was called cute of all things; it still was the truth and Baelor was not going to lie about such things.
Two puppies though.
Two puppies that should not be in this room, let alone out of the kennels, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose with the oncoming realization that there were four children currently in the castle who possessed the audacity to steal puppies from the kennels, two of which definitely knew their way around the Red Keep having lived here all their lives.
One of which was his own son.
Well, damn.
Baelor leaned back into the pillows, glad that the puppy who had been licking his face decided to curl up on top of his chest instead. He reached out to gently pet the soft creature, and adjusted its position to put it close to the littermate using Lonnel as a pillow. An idea that he was going to steal, and threw an arm around the sleeping man, intent to just hide away. Both puppies seemed to think that now was a good time to wake and start lavishing attention on the northerner which… he could not blame them.
“Baelor…”
Oh, he was up? Excellent, they might have time for another round before having to deal with the day.
“Yes?”
“Is that a puppy licking my ear?”
Strange to think it would be a puppy and not him, but Lonnel was not wrong in his guess. Close to the truth.
“... two puppies…”
No reply. Instead just a grumble of something that could be Old Tongue or it could just be noise, he wasn’t fluent in that and only was able to speak Common and High Valyrian like any proper Crown Prince should, but it did things to him and he was wondering now if they could put the puppies somewhere else while he got to enjoy a bit more time with the man.
“Baelor?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Take the puppies away. I’m not fucking you if there are puppies in the bed.”
“What if I-”
“You’re not fucking me if there are puppies in the room either.”
Well. Fine then. He can do as he is told and gather up the two creatures, who seem to be not happy with the situation at hand now that they have no Lonnel to lavish attention on. That’s something he can empathize with and pads barefoot across the room to crack open the door to the solar. He manages to wrap a sheet around his waist just in case, and when opening the door catches a glimpse of the scene, and it’s heartmeltingly adorable.
Four children curled around a pile of blankets and pillows, alongside the great white herding dog he had gotten his mother for her nameday, with the rest of the puppies snoring along with them. Valarr has his head on top of Wyle, who is holding hands with Daeron, who is somehow curled around Alysanne, who has managed to grab hold of Valarr’s foot. A tangle of limbs, the children are quite literally in a snuggle pile.
Well, ok, they can have two more, and he gently places both puppies on top of his sleeping son, before quietly slipping back into the bedchamber and crawling into the blankets where Lonnel is waiting underneath.
“We cannot be loud,” he manages to get out, as lips start to descend on his body. It earns him a growl of displeasure and wandering hands, but he twists so he can face Lonnel with a look of absolute seriousness. “Children are in the solar next to us and we would wake them. I would rather wait a decade or so till explaining the concept of copulation to my son.”
Hands pause and now it is his turn to whine in displeasure. “Lonnel...”
“Baelor.”
“I did not say stop. Just keep quiet.”
“Says the man who babbles deliciously in nasty High Valyrian phrases.”
“If memory serves me correctly, you did the exact same in Old Tongue, yes?”
At that there is a flush across pale skin, and Baelor has to kiss him in order to muffle the yelp when hands reach parts of him he so enjoys having them on.
~~~
Four children, seven puppies, and one mama dog wake up. They do not hear anything going on in the room next door, as it is decided it is time to search for breakfast.
Oddly enough it is little Valarr and Daeron the heroes of the morning plans, after several minutes of contemplating where to find breakfast for puppies and Mama Dog. It is decided the kitchens would be their best chance. They would sneak in, grab food, and then picnic in front of the Iron Throne, as after all Valarr would be seated upon it one day.
~~~
“I thought you said the children were out here?”
“They were… oh… oh no…”
“... does your son like to wander the Red Keep?”
“He and Daeron have a tendency to be able to evade many a maester, nurse, and maid when they wish and combine their talents together. Not to mention I may have told him of a few secret tunnels in case of an attack and needing shelter.”
“Fuck… oh… hello brother.”
“Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Daughter.”
~~~
Ser Gwayne Corbray was not sure if he was seeing the scene in front of him correctly. If he had cracked, or perhaps was dreaming, because there was no such possibility in all this was real. He had just come from being summoned by the Crown Prince, along with the rest of the Kingsguard, and sent to look for the missing children, a grown dog that was the Queen’s nameday gift, and a litter of puppies. All of them were missing and the hope was they were still in the Red Keep.
Well, he had found the dog. And the puppies.
But it was the children that were sending him, a seasoned Kingsguard knight, into a panic.
Each of them was taking a turn sitting on the Iron Throne, as if it was an ordinary chair, snacking on what was in a basket filled with sweets. Little Wyle Manderly had sat upon it for ten seconds, before loudly declaring it was ugly and uncomfortable and he would not wish to be even the Hand if it meant sitting on that thing. He would rather be Master of Ships.
Personally, Gwayne would agree, it was ugly and if being Hand meant having to sit on it when the King was not there, he would never wish for that position ever.
After that it had been Prince Daeron who sat, frowned, then said something about it not being quite right, and asked Valarr if it was okay if he would not be the Hand for him because it was rather strange to sit on it. Too much work and was boring, he would rather just play all day, and could be Master of something else if his cousin wished it.
There was something in the boy’s eyes, he noted when walking closer to the children, that gave off this eerie sense he was seeing something without truly being present.
Lady Alysanne took her turn and had the audacity to start swinging her legs, declaring she would be Hand if the other two did not wish it, and hopped right off with the confidence that only seasoned warriors and grown men should have. Fear bloomed when the girl patted the damn seat and laughed, claiming since no northern sword was used it would be fine.
Dear sweet Mother, he was going to have a heart attack.
All because Prince Valarr, the Young Prince, jumped onto the damn throne, sat down, and loudly declared when he was King he would make Alysanne his hand, and the other two must be on his Small Council, no take backs. Then proceeded to eat a pastry on the throne as the others clapped and cheered, proclaiming him very kingly and a true dragon, waving pastries in the air as if they were swords or daggers.
Not a single one of them had any cuts.
The mother dog howled in agreement, as did the puppies, and he just sat down at that point, shaking his head.
It was only when Ser Donnel, young, talented, Ser Donnel of Duskendale, came to stand next to him, clapping his hand on his shoulder, did he bother to snap out of the daze.
“You see this, yes?”
“... playing. Playing and picnicking on the Iron Throne. Children. None of them cut.”
He heard the choking sound and looked up to see the other knight, eyes blown wide and filled with disbelief. “None of them?”
“Nope. Not a single cut. Prince Valarr said the little lady is going to be his Hand. Prince Daeron to be Hand of the Hand, whatever that means. The Manderly boy is his Master of Ships. They planned it all out. Prince Daeron will be riding a dragon back and forth from Summerhall to the Red Keep to Winterfell, Prince Valarr will make it so his cousin can marry the little Lady Stark and Lord Manderly, and then have a wedding on the Isle of Faces. Something about marrying a girl with pink hair too, for his queen, a lady who loves the sea. And puppies, they all want puppies, as many puppies as the kennels can care for. Everyone in Westeros shall have a puppy.”
As if right on cue, little Prince Daeron comes running up, a sweetbun in each hand, and holds them out with the biggest, sweetest smile he has ever seen on any child in the Red Keep. Gently he picks up both and hands the second bun over to Donnel, and the little boy actually wiggles with happiness before running back to join the others.
“Donnel.”
“Gwayne?”
“Please go gather the Crown Prince, Prince Maekar, Lord Stark, and Lord Manderly. They might want their children back.”
“Oh… of course.”
When the younger man leaves, and Gwayne is alone, watching the children be ever so gentle with the puppies and mother dog, he tentatively takes a bite of the sweetbun, and has only one thought coming to his mind.
The King will be most wroth if they get the Iron Throne sticky.
~~~
It would not be the King who found them, nor the parents, but instead Queen Myriah.
The Queen, as it turned out, looked far more relieved none of the children were injured by the terrible throne. Surprised none of them were sporting so much as a papercut with how they were found, lazing around and doing as children were often to do. Ignoring the actual danger of acting foolish around such a seat, she was surprised even more when all of them came running towards her the moment she came into focus.
Both her grandsons had thrown themselves around her legs, hugging her tightly with sticky hands and big smiles, looking up with the sweetest expressions their little faces could produce. Their new friends managed to stop just before crashing into her and both gave a clumsy bow and curtsey, staring up with their jam-smeared faces and large grins. On the heels of all the children were the missing puppies, and her sweet herding hound Meria who had the litter of puppies six weeks ago.
“Grandmama, when I have a dragon I shall name it after you. Aly saw it, she did, and it will come true,” comes from Daeron’s mouth, sounding ever so serious and confident that this will be the absolute future. “Myriah, Queen of the Skies, unbowed by the Dragon Pit, unbent by no matter the many men who try to make her bend, and unbroken in spirit when we fly.”
Well, it looked like there was a poet in her youngest’s firstborn son after all. Maekar, she knew, had a secret way with words that he only reserved for exactly one individual; his wife. It looked like little Daeron had inherited that skill. She lets out a hearty laugh and ruffles Daeron’s hair at that. “A mighty fine creature your dragon sounds like then, and I shall be honored with a creature named after me.”
Not to mention it would enrage a few members of the court. A dragon named after a Martell queen, such a fun little jibe at the naysayers.
But she does peer down at Valarr, who blushes exactly like his father, and raises an eyebrow. “And you, what sort of grand future plans do you have?” she asks.
Her eldest grandson goes into great detail, of having the first female Hand of the King, and then wants one person from every kingdom in Westeros to come and be on his council, and how he will make it so everyone will a heart tree in their lands to pray at should they wish it, and that Wyle will be the best Master of Ships ever, and Daeron shall fly all around the kingdoms to deliver his proclamations. Also that he shall go to the Isle of Faces and ask for help with sending weirwoods everywhere, so all the gods might watch over them, not just the Seven-Who-Are-One. Everyone must have a puppy, no matter what, smallfolk and nobles alike. Westeros would be a much better place for that.
He also wishes for a pink-haired wife who likes the ocean, please, and would she help him in finding a girl who also likes to play games and wishes for puppies?
Ambitious for a child of six but she also ruffles his hair, proclaiming those plans to be fine indeed.
“You four do realize you gave us adults quite a fright when you disappeared,” she replies calmly, and all four have the decency to look a tad bit guilty when it hits them that perhaps they should have informed actual adults about their plans for breakfast in the morning. But most of the adults were still asleep at that point.
“Uncle Lonnel and Prince Baelor were up very, very late,” proclaims Alysanne rather sagely and with all the seriousness a five-year old can muster. “They were talking loudly and there were loud banging noises, and then they stopped and went to bed. Valarr gave them each a puppy to guard them because they looked very tired under the blankets.”
Myriah’s brain freezes at that though her smile does not wane as the little girl then proceeds to regale them with far more wholesome topics such as just what the puppies might dream of when they were curled around the children after it had been time to sleep. Or what the mama dog might wish for her puppies once they were fully grown. Childlike and innocent and not accidentally walking in on her eldest son and the northern bastard.
Oh her eldest would be getting an earful later.
Crown Prince and Hand of the King he may be, he was still her son. It was one thing to conduct an affair with mutual agreement between all parties (as she was well aware of the Lady Jena’s own preferences in terms of bedmates and the conversations that were shared between her son and his wife), it was an entirely different one to conduct on where the children would see them.
Though afterwards she would say that Master Snow was, indeed, a handsome man and clearly Baelor’s type.
That was a whole other conversation but right, the children needed tending to lest they decide to have a picnic elsewhere.
“Come now children, we all shall go to your parents and yes, you may bring Meria and her puppies with you.”
~~~
Lines. More lines.
I will not steal prized herding dogs and their puppies. I will not feast on sweets while sitting on the Iron Throne.
Four children glumly sit down in the nursery, under the watchful eyes of two maesters, two septas, two Kingsguard knights, and little prince Aerion who is being entertained by his nurse. Each of them has three sheets of parchment in front of them with strict orders to complete both sides with the lines.
After that they would march right to the king to apologize for putting everyone into such a tizzy.
Not to mention getting crumbs and jam all over the Iron Throne.
Only then would they be able to go to the Godswood to play.
~~~
“Is this legal?”
“Not sure?”
“It is not a sept and technically there is no law in the North about this sort of thing, as far as I know.”
“Shhh I think it is starting.”
~~~
Valarr stands right at the front of the old oak in the middle of the godswood. Next to him is Aly, whispering the words he has to say out loud for everyone to hear. Ser Donnel and Ser Gwayne are their witnesses, along with the nurse who is holding Aerion to stop him from eating the leaves falling on the ground.
“Who comes… um, what is next?”
“Before the Old Gods. The whole thing, Val!”
Right. And look, he just got a nickname out of it too.
“Who comes before the Old Gods?”
Daeron and Wyle are a little bit away and giggling a lot, but they each also have a bunch of flowers in their hands and are nodding.
“Daeron of House Targaryen.”
“Wyle of House Manderly.”
Good. He sees Ser Donnel go to take a place between both of them and the knight is letting his friend and his cousin hold his hands as they walk.
“Who gives them?”
“Ser Donnel of the Kingsguard.”
He looks over at Aly, who is now poking him in the shoulder to continue while all three walk up to the old oak. Everyone is handed a flower crown, and all of them, even the knights and Aerion, get one to wear. Everyone looks very fine in their crowns, and he gets poked again.
“Oh, um, who is claiming them?”
“Alysanne of House Stark.”
“... like the Good Queen?”
“No, Black Aly, and one day I am gonna be a better archer than her.”
That makes sense. Valarr looks up at the leaves, and then to his cousin and Wyle, before continuing.
“Will you take Aly?”
“Yes!”
“Only if I get to pet a wolf puppy.”
“Fine. Uncle Lonnel can find us a wolf puppy to pet.”
“Ok, good. Then yes.”
Valarr wonders if he will get to pet a wolf puppy too at this rate. Because it isn’t exactly fair that Daeron gets to pet a wolf puppy and he does not, because he is older.
“Right, ok, Aly, do you take them?”
“Yes.”
And that is that. He grins, very pleased with himself. Everyone is clapping, even little Aerion who was sticking a leaf in his mouth just before because the nurse was too busy clapping, and even Ser Gwayne and Ser Donnel are clapping.
There is tea and cake afterwards and all of them head back to the nursery, just in time to find the maids setting out the lemon cakes and apple tarts and juice for all of them, and team for the adults. A fine feast for after a wedding.
~~~
In retrospect it may not have been a good idea to bring his wayward daughter down south with the entourage. Alysanne had proved more than a handful in the time she had been in the Red Keep, and running not just his brother, but several others ragged. At least, Beron mused while at the farewell feast thrown in their honor, the little princes and Wyle were also full of chaos and not all of the blame could be blamed on his daughter. Oh he would fully admit his youngest daughter was a ball of chaos when not properly watched over but here she was much more likely to rope others into her plans.
Hopefully time would tame part of that wildness. Or hone it into something useful.
But that was neither here nor now, as the child in question was in the middle of some sort of strange southern dance that all the children were partaking in, much to the amusement of every adult in the room. Not gracefully but with enthusiasm, as every now and then one of them would trip, causing the whole lot to fall, and then get back up again as the crowds cooed over just how cute they were.
Idly he sipped on the Arbor gold served to him, thinking on the usefulness. Prince Daeron would come to Winterfell at some point, Alysanne would go with Wyle down south alongside the prince for a few years, and perhaps there would be a betrothal made when the children were of age. Nothing set in stone until he was Lord of Winterfell but his brother Rodwell had already given him leeway in terms of his children’s marriages, and it looked like the little prince was already smitten with Alysanne. Even better, the boy’s father seemed inclined to agree.
“Pardon me, my lord, but perhaps you may have an answer to a question my fellow Kingsguard and I have?”
His head slowly turned and he was face to face with Ser Donnel and Ser Gwayne, both of them rather formidable warriors for southern knights judging from the little he saw in the training yard, and in his mellow mood he was more positively disposed to answer any queries.
“Go on, as away.”
“Does marriage in the north have to take place in front of a weirwood, or could any godswood do?”
What a strange question.
One that gets Prince Maekar’s attention, as the man is sitting right next to him. The Lady Dyanna is on his other side, no doubt listening as well, and something is telling him that this most definitely is about something this daughter and their son has done.
“A weirwood, specifically a hearttree, would be ideal. Most devout to the Old Gods, including myself, would require one present. I suppose if none were present then the closest tree perhaps would be an oak, such as the one in the godswoods here.”
Others take him now, why do both knights suddenly look like they wish to vomit? At least Ser Gwayne is able to open his mouth and continue on, but Ser Donnel looks rather too pale for comfort.
What did Alysanne do?
“And if one were to marry multiple partners? Is that allowed?”
Gently, deliberately, the glass goes down. Already the headache is forming and he rubs his temple, trying to find the answer to the questions.
“As with the majority of Westeros, there can only be two who enter into a marriage.”
Which now begs the question.
What the fuck did his daughter do this time?
“What did Alysanne do?”
It is Ser Donnel who speaks up, to the stares of both himself, Prince Maekar, and Lady Dyanna. “Ah, my lord, your daughter may have gotten to marry both Prince Daeron and Wyle in front of the godswood yesterday afternoon. We thought it may be a game but… she has taken to calling them her husbands.”
Shit.
“In front of the oak tree, I take it. Who officiated?”
“Prince Valarr.”
Who would be king one day. And technically of higher rank than his cousin.
Well this could be a problem. Not an utterly horrific, unsolvable problem that would endanger the future plans between the royal family and the Starks, which Beron was mentally preparing in his head. But still a problem. Technically it was not a marriage, as all parties involved were still children, and there were three of them. But words were still spoken and there were witnesses.
Thankfully it is Lady Dyanna who manages to speak before either himself or Prince Maekar does. “A childish fantasy that surely is playing pretend. Often in my youth I played such games with my brother and sister and other children in the surrounding areas in Starfall.” She does reach out to place a hand on the prince’s shoulder, calming what might have been the start of a fit of his son and heir being bamboozled into wedlock at such a tender age.
Not that Beron would fare any better, given it is his youngest girl.
Words of reason and wisdom from the lady. Perhaps he is being an overprotective father in this case, as all the young boys have been excellent companions aside from the antics they engaged in. Or rather his daughter led them in.
“Perhaps we may talk of betrothals when they are older?” says the prince, and he is surprised that the normally militant man is seeking a more diplomatic path. That or he is well aware that the children, in such a short time, have grown attached to one another and it would be a shame.
“Along with fosterings. A few years in Winterfell would do anyone good, and perhaps Alysanne should spend time with you and Lady Dyanna,” as he turns to raise his glass to the woman before continuing, “Especially if she were to one day be Prince Daeron’s wife.”
Problems solved.
~~~
Ashford Meadow, 209 AC
Daeron manages to land Myriah down outside the main tourney space, much to the delight of his youngest brother who had begged, pleaded, and bribed his way into getting to ride the dragon to the tourney with Daeron rather than on horseback with the rest of the family. His dessert for a whole week, and he had to help with cleaning out Myriah’s talons was the offering, taken in return for granting the wish.
Aly had voluntarily agreed to this change in plans when informed and something about the gleam in her eye when she had done so made him shudder with worry. But that was neither here nor now.
His wife was scary when she wished to be.
Aegon had the time of his life and would be squiring for Wyle, which his father had agreed to on the condition that Daeron come to the tourney on dragonback rather than horse. Given he was a much better flier than rider, it was something they were both in agreement of.
The last time he was supposed riding in a joust it ended up with Alysanne stealing his armour, hiding it in the privy of all places, and then telling his father that no husband of hers should go out onto the field smelling as if they were literal shit, once the armour was found. At which Maekar had thrown his hands up in the air and grumbled about there being an archery contest instead, if Daeron could please do that, then he would lay off his son’s back.
Daeron came in second, with Alysanne taking top prize for that after sneaking in herself, and he held absolutely no shame that she had beaten him. If anything it was quite a night celebrating afterwards, with Wyle showing up late and missing everything, and then it had been a real party then.
At least this time the antics would be limited and she could not do such things, as at the moment she was five moons gone with child, and thus limited to the chaos inflicted.
“You are mooning again, Daeron,” says a voice and he looks down to see Aegon already on the ground and waiting for him. Undoing the buckles on the saddle, he was able to slide slowly down off Myriah, giving the shedragon a pat on the side. Not the largest creature, but a lady of great speed and grace.
“I do not-”
“Yes, you do, you look at Aly and Wyle with starry eyes and kissy lips and they do it too and it is disgusting," says Aegon with disgust.
Automatically his hand goes to ruffle Egg’s hair, the boy whining but still leaning in.
“My prince!”
Oh, that is Ser Donnel and Ser Roland running up to him now and Daeron gives a final pat on Myriah’s side before the dragon takes off to make her nest closer to the castle. Maybe steal a few wild boars at it for her dinner. A good girl.
“Well met sers, I take it everyone else arrived? Did my uncle pack his armour like I asked?”
He had two dreams, always starting the same, of a black dragon over a meadow, falling from the sky and landing on a knight. Sometimes the dragon was dead and the knight lived. Other times it was wounded, but the knight lived and swore himself to the dragon. Hopefully it was the latter.
“Yes, my prince, and we were sent to fetch you. Your cousin and Ser Wyle are in the opening joust and we were sent to collect you when you arrived. A good flight?” asks Ser Donnel, watching as his dragon flies off.
“Very. Did Aly-”
“Is in the castle now settling in and asking for you to bathe before seeing her and Ser Wyle. And yes, there is a bottle of sweet Dornish Red waiting, so I suggest you go before the pair of them go hunting for you themselves.”
“Oooo, kissy kissy.”
A flush on his face and he gives Aegon a light tap on the head.
Well, he can handle a tourney, so long as it is as he has them by his side.
