Chapter 64: Three Heads of the Dragon

308 AC

In the seven months since the Great Council had confirmed Jon as King, the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms had tried to keep things as similar to Stannis' regime as possible in order for the realm to go through a smooth transition, although with the upheaval of the War for the Dawn some changes had had to be made. Thankfully with Winter just about coming to an end some of the building projects that Stannis had begun could continue, with the occupation of the new Fleabottom growing to its pre-destruction size but in a more hygienic way. The Dragonpit was Jon's first original idea, having the space cleared of all remnants of the mass burnings from during the plague as well as cleaned so that the dragons had an area to call home, though Jon was loathe to lock them up as his ancestors had done.

Inside the Red Keep things had changed too. After the Great Council Renly and Loras had immediately left the North and made for the South, although boats and horses were no match for Dragons. It had been an abrupt departure for Jon and Dany, and with Bran flying alongside Jon on Rhaegal they had managed to convince Shireen that what had been decided was legitimate, and the Baratheon Princess had conceded the Iron Throne without a fuss. That led to three days of fierce negotiations when Renly and Loras arrived with a small army, though with the walls of King's Landing and a trio of Dragons, the Baratheon and Tyrell forces had marched away to their respective homes easily enough. Once Jon had dealt with Renly, the time had come to deal with the Small Council and his household.

He had kept on Lord Wyman, although the man was more solemn after the death of his son, and Jon had wanted to keep Ser Davos on as Master of Ships, but the former smuggler had decided that enough was enough, and that he was happy to retire and travel to his lands in the Stormlands to spend his final days with his wife. Lady Olenna had also resigned her post as Mistress of Whisperers, and after a discussion behind closed doors with Daenerys, the Queen of Thorns had simply told Jon that she would keep Loras in check and removed herself back to Highgarden. Another resignation was more obvious, as the Master of Laws Baelor Hightower was now the Lord of Oldtown and had to return to the Hightower to rule.

This gave Jon the challenge of choosing a new Small Council, and he felt that he had done well. Beside him at the table sat his Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, a capable Hand of the King that Jon knew he would rely on from her previous experiences of ruling. Either side of both Jon and Daenerys was Grand Maester Yandel and Bran, the new Master of Laws. Opposite the King sat Lord Wyman, and Varys had returned to his role as Master of Whisperers after years of serving Jon and Daenerys behind the scenes. Finally, Ser Monford Velaryon was the new Master of Ships, a role which had once been presumed to be hereditary for the Lords of Driftmark, and the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had been decided on, with Ser Rolland Storm taking on the role.

The only issue concerning the group was the upcoming coronation. With King's Landing in the full swing of repair, Jon had been convinced that now was the time, and that it would be both a celebration of his rule and a celebration of victory for the entire realm. Already guests were streaming into the Red Keep, although the ceremony wasn't for another fortnight.

"Lord Arryn is due to arrive today with Lord Tully and his family, Your Grace." Grand Maester Yandel explained. "They stopped at Stokeworth last night."

Jon nodded. "Excellent." He commented.

"Lord Arryn is seemingly close to a betrothal, Your Grace." Varys explained. It hadn't taken him long to recover a semblance of his former network. "Lord Bracken's youngest daughter was an attendant of Lady Melody Tully in Riverrun whilst the battles in the North raged, and the pair grew rather close."

Jon smiled. "Lord Arryn is of age now, it is up to him to negotiate with Lady Bracken."

Bran rolled his eyes. "So my Father will be dealing with that when he arrives, you mean."

"Speaking of Lord Stark." The Grand Maester said quickly. "Stark ships were docked at Dragonstone two days past. They should also arrive soon."

Dany smiled. "It will be good to see them."

"What of Renly?" Lord Wyman asked quickly, and the table fell silent.

"The only Stormlander representative we have had confirm their attendance is my brother, Lord Caron." Ser Rolland explained.

Jon sighed, and Bran immediately spoke. "It's an insult, Your Grace."

"It's expected." Jon countered. "We won't do anything for now, although I want eyes inside Storm's End, Varys. And Highgarden."

Varys nodded. "My little birds are already flying, Your Grace."

Jon was relieved. "Renly can sulk if he likes, but he will not ruin a day of celebration that the entire continent desperately needs. Where are we at with the plans?"

Lord Wyman coughed. "The preparations for the coronation are all but complete Your Grace, as are the gifts to the Smallfolk. House Stark are generously offering you 1,000,000 gold dragons in order to spread between the smallfolk in the capital."

"House Stark have so much to give?" Lord Velaryon asked, surprised.

Jon grinned. "You underestimate the wealth of Casterly Rock, Lord Velaryon. The war in the West years ago was very profitable for the North."

"Much to Lord Tyrion's displeasure." Dany chuckled. "He arrived yesterday, Jon. We should see him afterwards."

"Aye." Jon nodded. "Very well, is there anything else?"

Everyone around the table shook their heads. "Nothing that can't wait, Your Grace." The Grand Maester explained.

"Good, then I shall bid you all goodbye, until tomorrow." Jon said happily, rising to his feet. "My Lady?" He offered his hand out to Dany, who duly took it and rose to her feet as well. "Let us go and dine with Lord Lannister."

Contrast to the brightening weather that the Southerners were experiencing, Winterfell was still surrounded by acres and acres of snow, and Robb Stark was sick of just staring out of the window to watch it. He knew that he was lucky, the Ice Spiders had decimated dozens of men during the battle but he had come away from it alive, though his mood was still miserable. Maester Luwin had deduced that the venom had impacted on Robb's nerves, and his legs were bearing the full brunt of the damage. He had managed a handful of steps in the months since the battle, but he hadn't been able to leave the castle.

Today though, he felt good. The castle had been quiet since Ned had taken Rickon and Sara down to King's Landing with him, and so there wasn't as many people walking through the halls of the Main Keep as usual.

"Help me up." Robb instructed his wife, after she had tied his boots for him. Wylla had been brilliant since returning from Riverrun, helping him out wherever she possibly could. She gripped both of Robb's hands tightly and pulled, so that Robb was stood on his own two legs. He wobbled a bit, but he grabbed both of his canes and leant on them heavily, managing to stay upright.

"Are you sure about this?" Wylla asked, concerned.

Robb nodded. "Aye, I want to eat with my sons." He said determinedly. He took one hesitant step, leaning on the canes as if his life depended on it, and then he took another similar step.

Usually the walk took him a couple of minutes, but at his pace he was in the Great Hall about half an hour later, exhausted but thrilled that he had made it. The sight of his sons eating with Cat and Lyarra filled him with so much joy too. They didn't notice him immediately, until the 5-year-old Rodrik gasped. "Father!"

All eyes swivelled to him then, and Robb grinned as he continued his slow pace towards them. Wylla had to instruct their sons to stay at their tables, but Robb was soon falling into the Lord's chair, catching his breath.

Cat looked so proud, her eyes watering. "Did you make it all the way down?" She asked.

"He did." Wylla beamed. "Though I still think it's too much for one day."

Robb scoffed. "If I didn't push myself I'd never try."

Cat shook her head, before she turned to Robb's youngest sister. "Lyarra, run and fetch Maester Luwin will you?"

"I'm fine, Mother." Robb groaned, grabbing some bacon.

"And Luwin will be the judge of that." Cat warned. "Lyarra."

Robb sighed and tucked into his food, winking at a giggling Lyarra. "Of course, Mother." The 5-year-old girl smiled, and she pushed her chair away and skipped towards the large doors, a guard following close behind.

"She's growing so fast." Robb noted. "As are you two." He looked at his boys.

Beron grinned. "I'll be a man grown soon!" He exclaimed.

"You have a while to go yet, little Lord. And you won't grow unless you finish your food." Wylla told the future Lord of Winterfell firmly.

"Mother!" Beron whined. "Ser Rodrik said I could move on to horses today! Gawen says that…"

"Gawen Glover says a lot of things." Wylla told him, knowing that the 13-year-old heir to Shorestone that had recently arrived at Winterfell to foster was mainly all talk. "He's 5 years older than you, Beron, he can do things that you have to wait to do."

Beron huffed. "I'd only be riding, not jousting yet." He grumbled. "Though I can do it."

"Beron, listen to your Mother." Robb said. "I didn't begin jousting until I was 11."

"Can you come and watch me Father?" Beron asked excitedly, his annoyance forgotten.

Robb smirked at the 8-year-old. "Aye, I'll make sure I'm there." He promised. "Finish your plate and I'll meet you there." Beron nodded, finishing the last of his bread before running away towards the courtyard. "He has too much energy."

"You were the same." Cat commented. "You, Jon and Theon were always running about somewhere, leading Tor off on a wild chase."

Robb chuckled. "Aye, I suppose we were." He looked over at his youngest son. "And what are you doing today Rodrik?"

The smaller of Robb's sons had a mouthful of food, and grinned as he replied. "Sums."

"Rodrik!" Wylla cried. "Finish your mouthful." Rodrik had the decency to look scolded, but Robb's chuckling didn't help. When the boy gulped it down, Wylla instructed. "Come on, I'll take you to Septon Chayle now." She kissed Robb on the cheek. "I'll bring your chair when I return."

"Thank you." Robb nodded. He hated the wheelchair, but it was either that or return back to his chambers and sit in bed for longer, and he was sick of that.

Wylla passed Maester Luwin and Lyarra on her way out of the room, and the Maester looked surprised to see him. "My Lord, you should be in bed."

"I couldn't sit up there another day, Luwin." Robb shook his head. "Not when there is much to do here."

Luwin smirked. "Very well, there are some letters for you then, My Lord."

Robb took them gratefully, letting Luwin poke and prod his legs for a while as he read. "Father is in King's Landing now, Jon's invited him to join the Small Council with the rest of the Wardens in attendance." He snorted at the next bit. "Apparently Arya has joined him."

Cat looked shocked. "In King's Landing?" She asked. Robb nodded, and Cat scoffed. "I bet she's followed that Glenmore boy there."

Robb grinned. Arya had spent a lot of time with Torrhen's companion since the battle. "It's a decent match. Cregan was a large part of the reason we held the Ironborn off, remember."

"It's still indecent." Cat said sharply, before she sighed. "He is a good boy I suppose."

Robb nodded, although he felt sad suddenly. "I should be there." He muttered as he read the letter again. "Jon's getting crowned, and I'm stuck here."

Cat frowned, and she moved over to give Robb a hug and kissed him on his head. "Your only job is to get better, Robb. Jon understands."

"I know." Robb nodded. "But will I ever get better?"

Cat hugged him tighter. "You will I am sure. You are strong, Robb. You survived for a reason."

"Aye." Robb muttered, though he longed for whatever that reason was to hurry up.

The build up to the coronation had seemingly been nothing but private meals with the various Lords and Ladies of the realm, checking on grievances and seeing how the rebuilding was going. As Jon wrapped a black cloak around his shoulders and checked himself in the reflection of the windows, he smirked as he realised the easiest conversation so far had been with Ned and Robin Arryn, who had only wanted to mention the Valeman's betrothal.

Tonight was one that Jon was more nervous than usual about. House Martell's opinions on both of his birth parent's Houses were widely known, and the Council hadn't allayed Jon's fears about House Martell being a potential problem.

"You look good." Dany's voice sounded from her corner of their room. Jon turned and smiled at his wife, her hair done up intricately as she was dressed in a fine red and black dress. "Thank you, Missandei. That will be all."

"Your Grace." The attendant curtseyed and left the room.

"Nobody will be looking at me." Jon smirked as he walked over to take Dany's hands in his own. "You are a gift from the Gods."

Dany rolled her eyes. "Stop it." She said with a smile. Jon's gaze didn't shift however, and Dany began to blush. "Stop."

"We should tell people." Jon said excitedly. "At the coronation dinner."

"Jon." Dany shook her head. "It's too soon, trust me." She saw him pouting and chuckled. "I know you're excited but let us get through these next few days and then we can look at telling people."

Jon groaned, but his response was left unsaid when a knock came from the door. "Your Grace, Prince Quentyn has arrived."

"Thank you, Ser Jorah." Dany called to the ever-faithful knight and newest Kingsguard member standing guard on their door. "Come on, Jon." She leant up to peck him on the lips gently before escaping from Jon's grasp and leading him outside. It was a short walk from their chambers to the private dining room, and after nodding hello to another new Kingsguard, Ser Cletus Yronwood, standing outside the door, the couple entered the dining room to see Prince Quentyn rise from his chair.

"Prince Quentyn, thank you for meeting with us." Jon said formally, moving to shake the Dornishman's hand. Dany followed suit quickly before all three sat down.

"I thank you for inviting me, Your Grace." Quentyn bowed his head. "My Father, Prince Doran, sends his deepest apologies. His gout is getting worse and my brother is required to stay and aid him in ruling, he does hope you do not take my presence as an insult."

Dany shook her head firmly. "Nonsense, you bravely fought alongside us in the North, you are always welcome in the Red Keep."

Quentyn smirked, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "I don't recall doing much fighting, more seeing my family die before my eyes and being unable to fight back."

"It was a tough time." Jon said solemnly. "We all lost people we were close to. Our job is to remember them fondly and move forwards in their memory."

"Well said." Quentyn nodded. A small plate was then brought out to each of them at the table and they began to tuck into their opening course.

"Do you plan on staying in Dorne for long?" Dany asked after a moment of eating.

Quentyn gulped down some salmon and shrugged. "My Father doesn't seem to have too long left, so once the celebrations are over here I will travel back to be with both him and Trystane. After that… only the Gods know."

Jon nodded solemnly. "I pray that Prince Doran finds the strength to stay with us for longer."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Quentyn bowed. "There is one thing that my Father bid me to do, however." Quentyn said, his voice uneasily. "And he begs forgiveness for his ancestors, as well as himself."

Jon looked at Dany questioningly. "Why does he ask for forgiveness?" He asked.

Quentyn sighed. "You know the tales of our wars, Dorne and the Iron Throne? Before we were joined in marriage, there were wars fought for our subjugation, ruinous wars for both sides."

"I used to play act some of those battles as a child." Jon admitted with a reminiscent smirk. "Robb was always King Daeron, and I was Aemon the Dragonknight."

Quentyn enjoyed the image. "It is King Daeron I am referring too. He died in Dorne, his crown lost…"

"In a betrayal, I read." Daenerys input, her voice accusing. "I've been doing a lot of reading on the history of my family in the last few months, our current Grand Maester Yandel is the foremost expert on the history of my House and has written two tomes on the past 300 years. The sections about King Daeron the Young Dragon were… disturbing to read." The reasons behind Dany's interest in her ancestors were left unsaid, but a warmth flooded through Jon as he smiled at his wife.

Quentyn gulped nervously, but his face betrayed no emotion. "Both sides have committed monstrosities in the name of victory, Your Grace. I can assure you my ancestors' actions are not my own, as you can say the same."

"We can." Jon nodded firmly. "Why are you bringing this up, Prince Quentyn?"

"As an act of permanent truce." Quentyn explained, reaching into his satchel. "My Father has seen enough Dornish blood spilled during his reign, he would have no reason for anymore." He pulled out an object covered in a black cloth. "House Yronwood kept this hidden for almost a century, until I squired for Lord Anders and found it. My Father was not happy of course, and had it seized for House Martell, waiting for an opportunity to show faith in our alliance once more. That day is today."

Quentyn placed the object down on the table and slowly unwrapped it, and Jon immediately understood what it was. If the circlet of Valyrian Steel didn't give it away, the large, square rubies made it obvious. "The crown of the Conqueror…" Jon whispered.

"On behalf of my Father, Doran of the House Martell, Prince of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear, I, Quentyn of the House Martell do return this crown to its rightful owner and I pray that you forgive us for holding it for so long."

Jon looked at Dany, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, his wife was less speechless. "Thank you, Prince Quentyn. This gift… it's priceless to the both of us."

"If any man has doubts over your legitimacy now, Your Grace, you have the crown as well as the sword." Quentyn smirked. "You are the heir of the Dragon, and soon the entire realm will see that."

Prince Quentyn's words came true less than a week later, and Torrhen was stood at the front of the crowds beside his brothers and sisters that were in attendance as they watched Jon kneeling before the High Septon and the Iron Throne as the elderly priest was droning on. The Red Keep looked impressive, Torrhen thought. The Seven-Pointed Star was still showing in the window behind the Throne, but two large Targaryen banners were hanging either side of the window, proudly displaying the return of the Dragons to the new room. The more floral decorations on the pillars had made way for dragons snaking around the circular beams, and Jon had said that there was even talk of the dragon skulls returning to the room.

The High Septon had raised his voice now, and Torrhen honestly hoped that this was the end of the ceremony. "May the Warrior grant him courage and protect him in these perilous times. May the Smith grant him strength that he might bear this heavy burden. And may the Crone, she that knows the fate of all men, show him the path he must walk and guide him through the dark places that lie ahead. In the light of the Seven, I now proclaim Aegon of the House Targaryen the Sixth of his Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdom's and Protector of the Realm." The High Septon then raised the crown of Aegon the Conqueror high in the air before placing it gently on Jon's head. "Long may he reign!"

"Long may he reign!" Torrhen shouted along with the rest of the room, applauding loudly as Jon got up off of his knees and stepped towards the Iron Throne, sitting down in it for the first time. He looked extremely regal, and Torrhen was impressed at how Jon was holding it together.

Then it was time for the pledges of fealty, and Torrhen found himself in line with Ned at the front as the Lords and Ladies in attendance queued to kneel before their new King. Ned went first as Warden of the North, and it gave Torrhen a chance to look at the Kingsguard standing before the Throne. The golden armour had given way for plain silver, and the Targaryen emblem was proudly pressed into the gleaming chest plates. Torrhen realised he had been staring at Ser Tyrek Lannister for a moment too long and averted his eyes, wishing that he had been able to bring Mira and the boys.

It was soon his turn however, and Torrhen stepped up the steps towards Jon on the Iron Throne, who had been joined by Dany who was sat in a now permanent throne of Dragonglass beside her husband. Torrhen knelt down and spoke. "The Causeway is yours, Your Grace."

"Rise, brother." Jon said kindly, and Torrhen did as he was asked. "Thank you for coming."

Torrhen smirked. "I wouldn't have missed it, Your Grace."

Jon nodded. "I'll come and find you later, after all this." He waved to the crowd. "You must tell me about Willam."

Torrhen was grinning at the mention of his new son. "I'll be waiting." He bowed his head, before shuffling off to the side and walking towards the rest of his family in the gallery. Bran joined them soon after with Princess Shireen.

"It is lovely to see you here, Princess." Torrhen bowed his head to the woman and kissed her hand.

"I didn't really have much of a choice." Shireen said calmly. "Though I must admit, I'm glad this isn't all aimed at me."

Bran clenched his teeth momentarily. "It should have been." He muttered.

"Enough, Bran." Shireen said before Ned could interject. "We've been over this far too many times. This was the right decision." She then turned to young Sara and beamed at the red-haired Stark. "You must come and visit in Summerhall soon, we have the most beautiful lake by the castle."

Sara smiled politely as she moved closer to Shireen to talk about the new southern castle, and Ned just chuckled at his daughter. "She's more and more like Sansa each day." He commented.

"Poor girl." Torrhen joked. He stared back out at the crowd, still feeling relatively uncomfortable. "I can't wait to get back home." He muttered.

"Speak for yourself." He heard Rickon mumble nearby. "When I go back I'm leaving again. I might just stay here."

"You will do no such thing." Ned warned. "Lord Karstark is expecting you, and it would do you well to befriend Lady Alys."

Torrhen noticed Rickon roll his eyes and laughed. "You'll be fine, Rickon. You're more wild than most of her new subjects anyway, you'll fit right in."

"I won't." Rickon muttered stubbornly. "I'm going to find Arya." He announced, running out of the Throne Room.

Ned sighed. "He's still a child really."

"He'll grow." Torrhen said calmly as he watched another Northman bow to King Aegon. "Winter is Coming after all."

Ned surprised Torrhen then and snorted out a laugh. "Those words." The eldest Stark said fondly. "Let's hope it doesn't come for a very long time…"

"Lord Stark!" A voice sounded, and the three male Starks, all Lords in their own right, all turned. Torrhen recognised King Robert's Frey Queen, and at her skirts was a young, black haired girl. "A word if you may.

Ned nodded and bowed his head. "Queen Walda." He greeted. "And you must be Princess Ellyn."

The young girl curtseyed politely. "My Lord." She said shyly.

"I hear you have agreed a betrothal." Walda Frey said calmly.

"Aye, Your Grace." Ned nodded. "The King, your Father and I all came to an arrangement this past week. The Princess will marry my eldest Grandson when she is of age and foster in Winterfell from her 10th nameday."

The former Queen didn't look happy about it, but she nodded. "Very well."

"You are also welcome in Winterfell." Ned insisted. "The King agreed that might be beneficial to you, rather than be stuck alone in a court of a new dynasty."

Walda Frey cracked a smile. "The King is generous." She turned to the young Princess. "Come, Ellyn. We should go and meet with your Grandfather. Good day, Lord Stark."

"Your Grace." Ned bowed his head once more, and the Starks watched her walk away to the new Lord Frey.

"That will be trouble." Torrhen muttered once she was out of earshot.

Bran shook his head. "Queen Walda isn't like her family, she's actually rather nice when she's away from her House." He told them. "You've betrothed Beron though?"

Ned nodded. "Robert's wish was to wed his family and mine, I suggested it to Robb, and he agreed with the logic." He looked over at the young girl who was now in Lord Walton Frey's arms. "And I wouldn't want her anywhere to be used by opportunists. She will be safe in the North, and I will feel like I am doing my bit for Robert."

Torrhen smiled at that. "Your loyalty to King Robert is impressive, even now." He said. "Though Beron is only young… I can't imagine betrothing Asher or Willam off so soon, not now that we have peace."

"Peace is an illusion, Torrhen." Ned said calmly. "As much as I wish it weren't, there will always be some plots stirring in a pot somewhere. The trick is to never let it cook for long."

The coronation celebrations lasted well into the night, and it was the early hours of the morning when Jon and Daenerys stumbled up to their chambers to get some well needed rest. As the door shut behind them they quickly got changed into more comfortable night clothes, and while Jon moved to go towards the bed, Dany went to the window.

"The dragons are singing." She told him, and Jon walked back over to her, placing his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. "They're singing for us."

"They know what's coming." Jon surmised, as his hands snaked down Dany's sides and rested on her belly. "Viserion especially, he's been more agitated recently, have you noticed?" Like…"

"Like he's waiting for his rider." Dany interjected, her hands resting on top of Jon's as she continued to stare outside. "Do you regret agreeing to this? To being King?" She asked.

Jon smiled. "I sometimes dream about our life on Dragonstone. Of raising our child in the castle of our ancestors, of riding up to Winterfell and playing in the snow with Robb's children. But then I think of what that would mean for the realm."

"Our duty." Dany nodded. "You always put duty before happiness."

Jon smiled, kissing Dany on the head. "We'll have time for all that, but while that dream is appealing, the main thing is that so long as we are together, any life we could have will be perfect."

Dany twisted around in his arms and pressed a firm kiss to Jon's lips, and as Jon melted into their embrace he knew that he was right, this was perfect.

As Jon and Dany were celebrating their future together, Torrhen was also watching the dragons soaring in the moonlight from the balcony in the rooms his family were sharing at the Red Keep. The coronation had been making him think of everything that he had been through to get to this point, and he was reflecting on it all.

"You should be asleep." Ned said, the elder Stark joining him outside.

Torrhen smiled bashfully. "I'm just thinking." He admitted.

Ned nodded. "I know." He sighed. "The night after the battle, after worrying about Robb and the rest of you, do you know what I thought of?" He asked. Torrhen shook his head. "I thought of that day, over ten years ago. Where I found you by the Weirwood tree."

Torrhen remembered well. "You didn't believe me." He said, not trying to accuse.

"It was a hard tale to accept." Ned admitted. "But I am grateful for it now, I am grateful for you being sent back."

"Everything is so different." Torrhen admitted. "Jon may be King still, but I never saw it happen before. Then I think of Robb and Rickon being alive, of Bran having his legs and his personality still… of Sara and Lyarra… of you and Mother."

Ned gulped. "You opened my eyes to a lot of things, Torrhen."

"I'm just grateful too, I guess." Torrhen continued. "I may never truly stop mourning not knowing my Cregan, but I can't be disappointed. Not when you all live, when Mira lives and we have two sons of our own. That world was hard, it was filled with shit being thrown at you every step you took. Yes I was King, but that means nothing to me now, I wouldn't trade this for anything." Torrhen smiled at the realisation. "For so long I've been a man of two worlds, not necessarily comparing the two, but subconsciously thinking that somehow I'm going to lose everything I have saved here. Now that the Night King is gone and we look to have prolonged peace… I guess I feel at ease for the first time in a very long time."

Nothing more really needed to be said, and Torrhen was thankful that Ned understood that, and as the dragons flew around in the night sky of King's Landing, Ned placed his arm around Torrhen that gestured the unspoken words. Torrhen was safe, and he was home.