Preparation and Setup

It was midday when we had our war council outside the walls of Duskendale.

Since returning from Harrenhal a few days ago, we learnt Myles had performed a few actions of his own. The captain-general sent half his forces further south, capturing the castles I avoided during my own ride towards Rosby. That was until Lord Tywin decided to march north. No doubt to try to throw us back into the sea, and I was surprised to discover Joffrey was riding alongside him.

Instead of giving the Lannisters the battle they no doubt craved, Myles instead turned his forces around and returned to Duskendale. At least he took the opportunity to weaken his opposition during his tactical withdraw. While Tywin's host was exhausting themselves with their push northwards, Commander Kojo and Harrando had been attacking their scouts, harassing their columns and raiding their camp in the dead of night. If Tywin's scouts were discovered, they were always presented along the line of march mutilated and pointing in our direction. While it was savage and Daenerys didn't approve, the hope was that the Lannister soldiers would lose heart and go AWOL. It was happening but it was a slight drip where we hoped it'd be a flood.

Sitting in my chair and cradling the glass of water on my lap, I looked around the pavilion at the top brass of the Golden Company. Captain-general Myles Toyne, Commander of the First Golden Legion and the highest-ranking officer under the silken roof, General Tystane Rivers, commander of the Second Steel Legion, the Third Iron Legion headed by General Grazgan 'Ironsides' Khaza, the Black Legion under Ser Marq Mandrake and lastly myself, heading the much depopulated Dragon Legion who numbered only a thousand from where the others numbered five times that. Sitting alongside them were all their subordinates which made the command tent even more cramped than it normally was.

When the campaign began, the Fifth was easily the greenest and didn't have much in the way of experience. I was forced to rely on Dalabhar and the rest of my command staff to maintain operations. That had quickly changed by me throwing myself and my men into multiple trials by fire. Out of the two-thousand-and-a-half strong force I started with, I only had one thousand left. Which meant I had lost sixty per cent of my original legion, which was enough to raise Connington and Blackheart's eyebrows when they discovered that fact. But those who remained proved themselves resourceful and deadlier as a result. Though he said nothing, Myles did seem to approve of what I'd done in my short time as commander, even if he was worried at the cost.

Blackheart cleared his voice, "Once more, I would like to thank those who went to Harrenhal. Without the pact, we wouldn't have the luxury of consolidating our forces to the southern front. Now that our Westerosi allies have arrived, our manpower has been bolstered to decrease the disparity between our forces and that of Tywin Lannister." The ugly man smiled, surveying his officers. "We know two things about the enemy, and I would like to thank Maar for his intelligence gathering. The Lannisters outnumber our host anywhere from five to three thousand men, and with them is both Lord Tywin and his grandson Joffrey."

I had been surprised when I first heard that, and I still couldn't help but remain somewhat sceptical. Would Cersei permit her son to leave the Red Keep after we captured Tommen? Would Tywin? But either way, it was like the gods themselves smiled upon me and winked. If Joffrey was captured or suffered an unfortunate accident in the field of battle, the Lannisters were finished.

"I would have thought the boy would remain cowering in the Red Keep," Ser Jon Hawkwood said with a raised eyebrow.

"As did I," Myles replied flatly, "but the grandfather is not the mother. I wager Lord Tywin brought along the young king to provide much-needed morale. They should fight harder if their king's standing alongside them. Robb Stark has been leading men across the breadth of Westeros, Daenerys has been providing comfort to those who serve her, and Aegon's been scoring his own victories. What has Joffrey done other than cowering in the Red Keep? After Stannis' attack upon King's Landing, I for one doubt Tywin can continue having his house appear weak by fighting for a king who'd rather hide behind his mother's skirts while better men fight and die for him. Whether he'll participate in the battle itself will be another matter, however. Should the boy die, we have Joffrey's very heir."

"How old is this Joffrey Baratheon?" asked Grazgan. "Has he even been weaned off his mother's teats yet? You make him sound like a babe."

"Three-and-ten," was my blandly expressed response, "and should be a squire but isn't."

Lysono Maar smiled thinly. "That he is, and a recently made squire at that. Serving under his own grandfather. Optically, it wouldn't surprise me if this is meant to be a victory that will turn the tides in the Lannister's favour. Nothing has been destroying the Lannister reputation of superiority like this war. They won the Blackwater but at a devastating cost. After what happened, he'd be a fool to let us too close when the city hasn't recovered. He'll want us out of the war quickly and defeat Her Grace so he can turn his attention to Stannis to the south and Stark to the west. I even heard the Tyrells might even consider an alliance should we be removed from the board and the Lannisters need the Tyrells."

"I would have remained in King's Landing," Harry Strickland declared. "It has high walls and defensive towers. I would have made my stand there."

Ser Tystane Rivers shook his head. "That is foolish and too passive. Both Lord Tywin and his cub will be derided as weak and not worthy of the throne they claim. They'd be hiding and letting the kingdoms burn. That doesn't sound like a king to me."

"Besides, King's Landing is reported to have been heavily damaged in the Battle of the Blackwater," Connington added. "It would be foolish to make a stand there if half the tales are true."

The tales were indeed bad. Enough for me to consider abandoning King's Landing if just to avoid cleaning up the mess. Cersei Lannister had been very liberal in the use of wildfire which had burnt half the city down to cinders. That was on top of the damage caused by various fires and riots happening even before the battle. Not to mention after. Food riots were a common occurrence since we landed, and Tyrion's hold of the city had been weak even before Stannis exploited the chaos. I tried to imagine Cersei keeping order after her father took his leave but failed to do so. She'll flee to Casterly Rock, I bet, with or without her son.

Blackheart continued, "After Stannis stormed the walls, the Lannisters have little choice but to engage us. The walls fell so no doubt the gates haven't been repaired, nor does the city have enough supplies. That's not counting the smallfolk themselves. Should Varys be even half correct about the current situation, the smallfolk can be expected to rise in rebellion at the slightest provocation. They hold no love for the usurpers after half of Stannis' forces sacked the place and Lord Tywin's own host proceeded to do likewise afterwards. No matter what Tywin does, every option he takes has detrimental effects."

"Such desperation may cause him to do things riskier than not," Mandrake mused aloud. "Should King's Landing be under threat of Stark or even Baratheon once more with his absence, Lannister may grow fearful and rush to defeat us. That can work in our favour."

"Is Stannis even a threat at this point?" I asked. "I mean . . . we did destroy his fleet and most of his forces have in fact bent the knee to Tywin."

"It is Stannis. Never underestimate the man. No matter what," Connington told me.

Maar smiled though, fiddling with one of his drooping amethyst earrings. "He did manage to withdraw some of his forces in good order. A few thousand. It might be enough to take King's Landing should it be left with only a token force."

"Not very likely though."

Looking down at the maps, Harry grimaced. "It is known Tywin Lannister doesn't fight a battle unless he's certain he can win it. He's got numerical superiority and no doubt he'll be calling up even more men from every loyalist holdings he passes."

"Our riders have been bleeding him for every step he walks," Ser Marq dismissed, "and we've depopulated the land of Lannister loyalists. Seven hells, it wouldn't surprise me if large portions of his army desert from that alone. What does he have left at this point? Much of his army was killed by the Starks and Baratheons. What remains of his host will be exhausted and disloyal."

"I would also like to mention the majority are also peasant levies," added Gorys Edoryen with a sly little smile. "They'll be lacking against our discipline."

"Bloodied levies," I argued. "They might have been farmers and stableboys when they were called up, but you have to remember they've been fighting a civil war before we even landed. Those who've survived this far are hardened killers. Though they lack our training, it would be foolish to misjudge them."

"The lad's got a point," agreed Griff. "While some of our forces are well-bloodied, a large enough number have not experienced battle as intense as the rest of the Company or even most of those we'll be fighting against. Not to mention they might not be as motivated to remain in the field . . ."

"If they flee, they've proven themselves unworthy of being in the Golden Company and will be decimated," was Blackheart's counter. "When I'm done with them, their comrades will rather face Westerosi lance than my wroth."

"We can argue about this all day," Daenerys interjected. "But of the host arrayed against us, how many are Lannisters?"

Maar shrugged. "We know the backbone is made of Lord Tywin's original host from the Westerlands which includes some remnants from the Kingslayer's army after the Battle of the Camps. There's at least a couple thousand from the Reach and Stormlanders who bent the knee after the Blackwater, but those men are unreliable and more like to surrender than stand and fight unless Tywin has hostages. The rest are sure to be the sweepings of King's Landing and whatever men he could raise here and there."

"How many of them will be sellswords?"

It was Jon Connington who responded, "It is known the Imp hired sellswords before his death at the hands of one of Stannis' knights. I do not know how many survived there. We are aware Tywin hired the Bloody Mummer's as well as a sellsword company led by some Tyroshi mercenary, but the former betrayed him and we haven't heard much of the latter. May I ask why?"

"I was thinking that mayhaps those mercenaries might prefer to join the winning side." Dany shrugged casually. "Excluding the Golden Company, I've been told much of the treachery of sellswords."

"Many would rather live than die wealthy," I supposed. That was the case for sellswords like Bronn who refused to fight the Mountain even for all of Tyrion's promises. I smiled at the memory of that in the books and wondered if I might encounter the sellsword. Tyrion though . . . I was unhappy when I received the news. When it came to my pick for Lord of Casterly Rock, Tyrion was naturally my first choice. He was competent, not popular among the Westerlords, and I could hold Myrcella and Tommen over his head to keep him in line. But he was dead. Having died in the sally outside the Mud Gate to one of Stannis' knights and was valiantly avenged by Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard. I believed that as much as I believed Cersei wept for his death. Now back to the drawing board. Who would be a decent lord for the Westerlands? If not someone who was loyal, then someone incompetent . . .

"It could work but you'll need to talk to the captains and I doubt Lord Tywin would let you approach his camp without impaling you with arrows," Old Griff told her.

"You might be correct. Are you certain we can defeat this army?" Daenerys asked with some reluctance. "Might it be possible to ask for Stark's aid to strike Lord Tywin's rear?"

Like he planned to do before Edmure fucked with his plans? I shook my head. "It'll take too long. Besides, we can't be seen asking Robb to fight our battles. We need to score some victories of our own."

"The lad is right. We might have a spot of trouble but I'm confident we can defeat Lannister and end this war," Blackheart smiled.

"But not bloodlessly." The dragon queen frowned down at the map. "Much blood has been spilt across Westeros and I have no desire to let any more innocents perish. There are enough orphans and widows and I've no desire to create any more than necessary. Captain-general, we will win this battle, but the cost could be so great we might be unable to take King's Landing. It would be wrong to make predictions."

"You are wise, my queen," Maar said. "Wise as you are kind and beautiful."

I rolled my eyes. "Should we defeat Lord Tywin, more lords will turn their banners and join our side. Stannis is feared and little loved, so we have no fear of him gaining their support. Tywin is similar. His defeat will make those fearful of his wraith more confident of rising against him. They'll join us. The Lannisters have few friends but many enemies."

Daenerys' lips narrowed. "We need to win this battle and I'd rather avoid bloodshed if I can help it. Once they appear, I desire to meet this Joffrey. I want to see this monster close up. I doubt he'll accept my offer, but I believe it's my duty to give him my terms. Should he surrender, I will be generous."

I emptied my cup and narrowed my eyes. "And what can Joffrey expect from your terms, Your Grace?"

"Should he be disheartened and surrender, he can expect leniency. He'll be put on trial by Robb Stark as agreed, but I will speak and encourage the boy to be sent to the Wall. He is only thirteen. Any younger and he'd be a child. His mother can return to Casterly Rock or be sentenced to join the Faith. Tommen and Myrcella will remain at court under my care. No mercy will be given to Lord Tywin though. He will be tried for the death of my nephew and niece and Princess Elia Martell, and many other crimes besides. He'll be sentenced to the headsman's axe. That is justice."

"I don't know them personally, but I know they won't accept that."

Connington gave Dany a sour look. "While it isn't unknown for the leaders of two sides to attempt to make peace before a battle, I would have to disagree with Her Grace that we should. Lord Tywin is not a man who will surrender. He will not bend the knee to you no matter how sweet your terms are."

"Doesn't really help that you plan to offer no mercy to Lord Tywin himself," Hawkwood commented wryly. "If a man is staring face to face with an angry wolf - or a dragon in this case - he can either run or fight. Lord Tywin will fight, and he'll put the entire population of Westeros between himself and the dragon if he can."

"Therefore, we will not meet with this false king," Connington declared, strengthening his regent's voice to offer no discourse to the young queen he served. "We will fight, and we will bring Joffrey and the rest of the Lannisters to justice." To vengeance, his pale eyes said instead, and nothing was going to go between him and what he sought.

...

"It's certainly impressive," Haldon confessed as we gazed upon the new and improved printing presses.

We were in one of Duskendale's guildhalls, having appropriated it for our own needs and paying the owners with a slip of parchment offering compensation for when the throne was finally ours. With little in the way of coin on hand (with it all being earmarked for paying the men) we were going the 'I owe you' route of doing things where a written document was given to farmers, stables and everyone else we requisitioned resources from. In no way was it popular, but I had the feeling they'd forgive us once they decide to cheque it in. Should they cheque it in. The idea of paying someone with promises sighed to paper was growing in popularity across Westeros. Not only for us but the Brotherhood without Banners and knights like the Hound if I remembered the books correctly. I didn't like the idea of owing anyone anything but it was necessary, and it reminded me of an old proverb: gold is the money of kings, silver is the money of gentlemen, barter is the money of peasants – but debt is the money of slaves. There was going to be a lot of debt when the war was done.

Currently, there were three printing presses and they'd been much improved from my original design. Having been refined by Illyrio's people, they were more ornate in appearance and many of the problems I tried to iron out no longer existed. It wasn't only the press itself but the parchment and ink as well. That wasn't forgetting that with some slight modifications, they could be converted to handle woodblock printing which was a godsend considering propaganda posters had to work without any sort of text thanks to widespread illiteracy. Another point in our growing favour was Illyrio buying up land and using the river between Pentos and Myr for mechanised paper manufacturing, reducing the price for parchment and increasing production. Despite being only proto industrialisation, it was a good start. Capitalism may not be a true force in this world but it was beginning to shine and with it would naturally come innovation. I just need to liberalise the markets and set them free. Depower the lords, crush the guilds and empower the merchants. It would be hard, and the current powers of Westeros would do all they could to stop me. But in the end, they'll live in my new world or die in their old one.

"I believe that is understating it, Master Haldon," Vaquo remarked, rubbing the silvery beard he was growing. He claimed it made him look astute. Unkept was a better term to describe it. "I would go as far as to say this has helped change the world already. Though these presses are new, they should become common across the world. They will replace the laborious handcraft of Essosi slaves and Westerosi maesters. While I still hold the opinion that the Andalic language is primitive scribblings, such a machine works better for it than the more complicated writings of more . . . more civilised peoples. As much as it pains me to say, the common Westerosi tongue might, in the future, dominate the world."

Too many glyphs, that's the problem with Valyrian. I rose an eyebrow at my chief engineer at his prediction about the future. "The art of printing will spread knowledge that the common people, knowing their own rights and liberties, will not be governed by way of oppression," I quoted from somewhere I couldn't really remember.

"Excuse me?" Haldon asked.

"In the future, there'll be a pendulum shift across the Seven Kingdoms and mayhaps the world," I spoke softly. "What we are looking at is something that will spread information and new ideas far and wide. Cheaper and easier than traditional methods. In the right hands, if we play it right, it will provide a level of unprecedented control over the population of the Seven Kingdoms and far beyond. If you control the information a person gets, you control what they know and what they think." I smirked at Haldon. "These presses will be the cornerstone of the new Westerosi order I mean to create."

"You think you can control Westeros through these simple tools?"

That and bards. "I'm only following the Citadel's example, Master Haldon. When you look back at the history of the Seven Kingdoms, when you read books written by the maesters, don't you think that maybe they're trying to push a certain narrative? They hold a stranglehold of information. They control the ravens that spread news, they teach the lord's children, and all information is centralised to a single location. Not to mention other things as well. Then there is Westeros itself that needs to change. It is stagnant and when water remains in one place for too long, it begins to spoil. Water needs to flow else it'll corrupt and be a feasting ground for pestilence. I know the maesters write what they know, and it does come to some interesting histories such as knights appearing in periods thousands of years before the Andals first landed in the Vale - but I'm also referring to what you see. Castles that are meant to be thousands upon thousands of years old. Unchanging despite millennia if the histories are correct. It is beyond the Citadel. Not all fault lies with them. What we see before us . . ." I sighed. "Progress can only be held back for so long. The kings, the lords and the maesters are a dam that's been holding the waters back. I mean to break that dam."

"I believe you are wrong, Aegon. Change does happen. Houses rise and fall—"

"Very slowly. The Starks have been ruling Winterfell for . . . I don't know. Maybe a thousand years? Assuming it's an unbroken line and not people taking the name and sharing not an ounce of blood with the original founders. But as I said, Halfmaester, I mean to change Westeros."

"And what change will that be? Clearly, you want to centralise and empower the Iron Throne. I will inform you now the lords of Westeros will be most resilient to anything that threatens their power. The Citadel as well if you threaten them. They might have crooked bones and hunched backs, but don't underestimate their wits nor influence. If you want answers for why Westeros might be stagnant, that might be your answer. What reason would a lord or king or even knight have to diminish their own power?"

I smirked, returning my gaze to the presses. "I am aware of that. I do believe when I implement these changes, they'll not be in a position to refuse. Westeros has so much potential but looking at the history of the Seven Kingdoms tells me it's too divided to progress much before being forced back. Tradition ensures stability but too much of it destroys progress, leaving it stagnant and weak to outside influences. Progress is good in moderation, but too much will cause society to fracture and break apart or spiral into debauchery. There needs to be a balance . . . an equilibrium. I remember you telling me why you left the Citadel. You said they restrained you. That the chain they desired you wear around your neck was akin to the leashes the slaves wear in the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay. I believe the Citadel and the lords are the chains around Westeros. Strangling its attempts to adapt and grow into something more. I don't really know how to explain. I think about the smallfolk and how they are the lifeblood of the Seven Kingdoms. How nothing will work if not for them. They need to be respected, and the new monarch should do that. There should be a new order. One that follows the principles of life, liberty and property. Where any man, regardless of his or her birth, can rise above the station they were born into. Free to seek the life they choose. I might even write my ideas in a treatise to explain it further." I chuckled softly, noticing both their expressions, neither looking eager to hear the words I said. "There are other things as well. I plan to resurrect some of King Aegon the Fifth's laws regarding the smallfolk. Firstly, to remove the lord's abilities to perform justice themselves and instead use courts where both nobles and smallfolk are tried by a jury of their peers and punished by a judge. A fairer system than a single individual deciding everything, methinks."

As I looked through various history books, I discovered that was one of the things King Egg tried to do. He appointed magistrates who had the authority to overrule the small lords in the name of the crown. They were very unpopular for they were an infringement of the lord's rights and had been the very first thing removed by Lord Tywin. But that was only for starters. He tried his hands at tax reform, added rights for the smallfolk like the ability to travel which had been restricted by Bloodraven, forestry laws regarding poaching as well guaranteeing bread and mead as a form of social welfare. Despite King Aegon's aspirations and his love for the smallfolk, his dreams were never fully implemented or receded by Tywin Lannister. I planned to bring back his reforms but I had no intention of failing. Unlike King Egg, we had dragons that could guarantee a monopoly of force, which would be further cemented with a professional standing army.

Haldon Halfmaester grimaced. "I'm afraid to say that sounds too radical. What books have you been reading to get such ideas? I know we taught you to care for the smallfolk, but you shouldn't push too hard. Not unless you want backlash from the very people the foundations of your rule is going to be built upon. What you want will upset the natural order of things. The lords will not accept such ideas and you can't anger them if you want to survive. They have killed kings for much less, and what you desire will terrify them. What you want is to destroy what has been Westeros since the dawn of time. You're a smart lad, but I think you might be trying to bite off more than you can chew."

If anything, I'm not biting enough. "I can understand your reasoning, and I do respect your counsel. I might speak most . . . drastically, but I do sincerely believe it's unwise to keep things the way they are when this, of all moments, is the best time to sweep the board. Just look outside these walls and you will see the Seven Kingdoms changing right before your eyes. The high lords and knights are killing each other and growing weaker by the day while the smallfolk are getting angrier. They rage at the very lords who proclaim to protect them but are instead busy stealing their livelihoods and using them as nothing but an expendable resource to toil their fields and fight their battles." One thing I had come to discover from my younger and more innocent youth was that people could easily tolerate oppression and authoritarianism provided those above performed their own duties of safety and provided a decent enough standard of living. It was when the masses grew hungry and felt they had nothing to lose when rebellions happened. As much as commentators loved to proclaim the Arab Spring was a desire for democracy, it was in fact spurred by rising food prices, as were many other revolts throughout human history. "Don't think I'm the only one, Halfmaester. Daenerys also desires to reform Westeros. She looks upon the smallfolk and feels for them with her tender heart."

But the bright side was that she wasn't as radical as I was. She was still a product of this world and didn't have any conception of anything else. That was a point in her favour if anything. While I was happy to create a dictatorship that was very laissez-faire with how it treated the peasantry, I was likely to go overboard with the reforms and the most likely outcome for that was - if not a knife planted firmly in my back - half of Westeros turning to ash as I battled rebellion after rebellion. Daenerys was a moderating force. She would halt my more radical notions, soothe over the lords with her gentle words and try to ensure stability.

"Idealism," Haldon dismissed with annoyance. "Youthful idealism. One with no sense of reality. A fool's dream. A dangerous dream."

"Surprisingly enough, I actually agree with Aegon," Vaquo interjected where he'd been silently watching our exchange. "I will confess to being unfamiliar with how the politics of the Sunset Kingdoms operate, but what I hear is someone who has learned from his more civilised peers across the Narrow Sea even if he does have his own illusions to how it operates. It would be in the Seven Kingdom's best interests . . . assuming you win, of course."

Haldon looked at me uneasily but didn't say anything. Unlike Griff, he knew when to stop pushing and, in his eyes, he knew I couldn't be convinced otherwise.

After inspecting my legion, ensuring everyone was performing their duties and my new adjutant was comfortable with his position (in which he was nowhere near as competent as Dalabhar), I proceeded to Daenerys' tent where I heard the plucking of a harp through the canvas walls and the gentle voice of my wife. She was singing to my surprise. I smiled.

Guarding her tent was Ser Barristan Selmy, armoured in the white enamelled scales of a Kingsguard knight. The fastening for his breastplate, clasps and chasings were polished silver and draped from his shoulders was a white woollen cloak. Beside him was a pure white shield while his polished helm had a narrow eye slit and pair of ornate dragon wings. In the end, Daenerys couldn't retain her grudge against Barristan. Her flames of anger had simmered and cooled enough thanks to the old knight's stories and stubbornness in serving her. When representatives of the Red faction requested Barristan get his old job back, Dany didn't refuse. Selmy had wept, took the knee and vowed to serve her faithfully until his very death. Which, considering his age, might be sooner than he would have liked.

Noticing me, Barristan the Bold bowed his head, muttering a "my prince," which struck me as a tad grudging before standing to the side.

Daenerys' singing cut off abruptly as soon as I stepped inside her lavishly furnished pavilion. The claimant queen of the Seven Kingdoms was sitting at her vanity before a polished silver mirror. She was dressed prettily in garbs of lambswool and in her dainty little hands was the silver harp Connington had gifted me when I arose from the dead. Her hair was artfully curled and her feet were bare.

"Sweet wife," I said, grinning wide. "How beautiful you look this fine day. I hope you are well-rested."

"Rested yes, but I cannot remove the bitter taste from my mouth."

"Though you certainly tried your best from the looks of it," I mumbled, noticing the half-empty bowl of fruit beside her. "Was our deal with the Starks that bad, Daenerys?"

"Depends how you look at it," she admitted, turning around on her cushioned seat to properly face me. She thanked Eleanor Mooton when the thirteen-year-old filled her glass with persimmon wine and kissed the girl on the cheek. "You know I desired Robb Stark bend the knee. I have no desire to spill blood and instead want to come to some accord peacefully. I don't desire any further death. Enough blood has watered the grounds of Westeros."

"There's still a chance of that happening, Your Grace. Hopefully, once we take King's Landing, we can speak once more with Robb Stark and this time resolve our little feud without coming to blows." When Eleanor asked if I desired anything, I replied with, "only a glass of Arbor Red, if you please," I smiled and made the young girl blush. "I know it's not what you wanted but hopefully this will be a step forward. It's not like we're going to go straight to fighting him once the Lannisters are dealt with. At least I hope not anyway. Will you be willing to speak with him again?"

"If it avoids further bloodshed? Of course. Did you even need to ask me?"

I smiled my answer and took a seat across on the sinfully soft feather bed. "Civilised men disapprove of murder and rightly so. Unless it involves groups numbering in the thousands and carrying fluttering banners; then it becomes one's nationalistic duty and worthy of praise." She looked at me curiously, and I couldn't help but examine the smoothness of the sheets. They were delectable to the touch. The younger hormonal part of my brain wanted to dismiss the servants and have my wife join me, but I forced that from my mind. She's only a child, and you have more important things to worry about. "I don't, but the lords might view things differently. Do you know the Company's thoughts on the matter?"

"It seems the Golden Company are largely united alongside us besides a few who would rather take the fight to the Starks. It can be expected of them. They are bloodhounds and believe force is the answer for everything. The Blacks, the Reds, and the Moderates agree the treaty was useful though a sizable number are unhappy with the concessions to House Stark."

"I'm assuming that's the hostage exchange?"

"Indeed. Trading lords for a knight and two squires . . . that didn't sit quite right with them especially without any ransom being paid. They think we got the worse deal, and I agree with them. But there are more who believe we and House Stark will come to blows, and that we should take the initiative and take the fight to the Northern Kingdom once King's Landing is ours. Lord Stannis is no longer a threat, Connington tells me, so we should focus on the wolves when Robb needs to head north." Dany made a face as if she bit into something particularly sour. "War isn't merely fought with swords and knights. It appears many of my captains know little of the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, nor do they understand the greater strategic picture."

Those words weren't something I ever imagined would come from Daenerys, but instead sounded like the words of Harry Strickland or Haldon. "Ooh, your speaking like a true queen, Your Grace. A proper politician."

"Haldon has been teaching me, and Strickland has been providing sensible counsel." Fiddling with the harp on her lap, tracing the intricate patterns with her fingers, she said, "Ser Strickland might not be respected by Connington nor is he a fierce knight, but he's wise as far as pennies and grain are concerned. Both of which we lack and our reserves – he informs me – will be non-existent should we fight House Stark."

"Logistics are important," I agreed, "and undervalued. But might we speak in private?" I gestured at the handmaidens she'd been collecting like Pokémon. I wanted us to have privacy, especially when it came to speaking of more private matters. While I could trust some of Dany's handmaidens to not go blathering, the more she surrounded herself with, the greater the risk.

"Of course, husband." Dany rose from her chair, kissed all her handmaidens on the cheek and asked them to take their leave. They curtsied and did so, leaving us alone other than the dragons. She smiled. "What is it you wanted to say?"

I paused a moment, took a sip of my drink, then grinned boyishly. The drink was sweet and not at all flavoured with flakes of lead which was the custom of ancient Rome and the Slaver's Bay. I hoped not at least. Otherwise, the person who did might find themselves losing their head. "I just wanted the two of us to be alone, sweetling . . . well, alone as we can be with the four fire-breathing dragons we always have to watch. Our own children, growing larger and fatter. Seldom do we get the chance to be alone together. We're invested in dealing with nobles we need to woo, I'm dealing with the Fifth and Blackheart, and you're doing your queenly duties. To say it's tiring will be understating it."

She smiled at me with a tinge of sadness, resting the cup in her lap and fiddling with the lace of her dress. "There are many duties for a queen and her consort. It's not our place to be idle." We remained silent for a moment, sipping our drinks before she spoke up again, "When I was little, I didn't quite know what would happen once we sailed to the Seven Kingdoms. When Viserys was alive and . . . I didn't know what burdens would fall upon one's shoulders, nor did I ever imagine they would be saddled upon my own. I always imagined I-I always assumed Viserys would marry me and I'll be his queen. Bringing little babies with silver hair and purple eyes into the world while he fought his war. He spoke of blood and fire, of retribution and avenging House Targaryen. I never imagined we would try to find accord with any of them. Is it wrong to say—is it wrong to say I want them to burn for what their families did but at the same time not? Can you understand? Arya is a sweet child and Tommen too. They belong to the dynasties that destroyed my own, but they played no part in my house's fall. Even Robb Stark was still a babe when Robert Baratheon rose against his rightful king. I know they're not responsible . . . but doing what we did just feels hollow." She looked up at me, perplexed and somewhat guilty as if she didn't know how to put it into words.

"The heart wants what the heart wants, and the heart is a floating mess of irrational contradictions. You want revenge yet, at the same time, you don't want further waste of life. House Stark was involved in the fall of House Targaryen, aye, but they were fighting against tyranny and Eddard Stark opposed Robert for the murder of your kin. It would be wrong to hold Robb responsible for something he didn't do himself. Just as it would be unjust to hold you responsible for what your father and brother did. That goes for the others as well. Tommen and Myrcella, Sansa and Arya and many others. I will tell you now that a burning desire for vengeance will consume you if you don't control it. It will take everything you are and destroy it, and you'll never return to who you were."

"I know!" Her arms shot up, waking all the dragons. She immediately blushed and her voice softened, quickly apologising to the winged snakes which made me smile. "I know. But it feels wrong. It was Tywin Lannister who did the deed. Him and his dogs. It was Jaime who slew my father. I will never forgive them for that."

"And I don't expect you to. I can't imagine anyone sane doing such a thing." I leaned back, my eyes on the harp she'd put on the vanity. "I know when we married, I might have said what's mine is yours, but I didn't think you'd take it that literally when you stole my harp." I smiled to ensure Dany didn't take it the wrong way. "Have you been playing long?"

She smiled shyly at me, a sprinkling of a blush dusting her cheeks. "Not for long I admit. Eleanor has been giving me lessons. I'm not that good . . ."

"What I heard said otherwise, and I'm not saying that because I'm your husband and I have to. How long have you been learning?"

"Since taking her into my service," her voice was soft.

It seems Rhaegar wasn't the only one with the musical gift. "And yet you do it better than me." Which wasn't that surprising considering I stopped quite a while ago. I could play but that didn't mean I played that well. "Not only the harp but your singing as well. Might I ask you for a few songs?"

Once again, Daenerys blushed and quickly averted her eyes, fiddling with the embroidery of her dress. "I . . . I never thought to sing to someone else, Egg. I thought to play only for myself. I . . . I don't imagine myself talented enough to perform for another. I just find it soothing and it puts my heart to rest." Dany licked her lips and looked up at me, conflicted and unhappy. "A king must never sit easy, Aegon said. I'm not even sitting on the Iron Throne, yet he's right. A throne is a very uncomfortable place to sit regardless of how it's made. A queen seldom has time for herself when she must shoulder the burdens of everyone around her." She looked smaller at that moment, like a little girl who didn't know what to do.

Say that to Ser Barristan, and he'll no doubt provide you with some cushions. "You are very wise, Daenerys. It's a sad case of affairs that." Unless you desire to gift some of your authority over to me, I could have said and might do at a later point. If I let the chains of command tighten more around her, Daenerys might willingly transfer authority and maybe without me even asking. People who made the decisions themselves had less likelihood of regretting it when looking back. I smiled sadly and reached my arm out, offering it to her. "C'mon. Come over here."

Daenerys took a moment to gauge my words before giving in, taking my hand where I pulled her from her chair and onto my lap. She relaxed and melted against my chest. I wrapped my arms around to support her, using it as an opportunity to trace tiny circles down her back with a gentle hand. Despite myself, I couldn't help but notice how soft and plush her arse was, the lushness of her thighs and the perfumes on her smooth unblemished skin. She is a child, I had to tell myself. Yet this teenage body of mine didn't seem to care. Biologically there was only a year difference between us, but it still felt wrong.

"Being queen is not easy, and not everyone is capable of being a leader. When I stepped down for being a claimant of the Iron Throne and decided to instead support your claim above my own despite . . . well, I remember a quote I once read. It goes: Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power. It will reveal that he truly is." I pulled her closer to me and she didn't refuse. She was warm and soft and smelled of vanilla. Dany nestled closer; head pressed against my shoulder. "I believe I made the right choice. In fact, I would be concerned if you weren't doubting yourself." I kissed the back of her head and she let out a sweet sound.

"I'm tired, Egg. I'm a queen fighting for my throne, yet I'm tired of being regal. The crown weighs heavy upon my head, and my buttocks go to sleep sitting atop Duskendale's throne. I'm tired of it all. I am only a young girl. I want to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and watch them grow." Her eyes remained on the dragons. "I want a child. One of our flesh and blood. We are married yet you have not laid with me. We share the same bed but nothing more than that. Why haven't you performed your duties as a husband?"

"Because you're too young. Because I don't want to risk your life. Because I don't want to lose you. I care about you too much to put your life at risk . . . and for what?"

"For the wellbeing of our houses, Aegon. For their survival. We are the last dragons of our line. The both of us. I have been asked by Septa Lemore and others why I haven't grown great with child. They give me fertility potions and still they wonder. Clearly not knowing you have not done your duty. Sometimes I wonder if you're unable or just unwilling. What about laying with me disturbs you so?"

"Nothing disturbs me, my sweet. I will perform my duty. Just not now." She was only fifteen. She was still young, and I knew how unsafe pregnancies were at that age. It came with an increased risk of death for herself and the child and, even if both made it through, it could cause enough stress on her body to ensure she had difficulty carrying another to term. Like Queen Rhaella, or Elia, or a million other women because Westeros for whatever reason thought it would be better for a woman to be bred young rather than wait. Medieval Europe wasn't like that. They married young, sure, but they seldom did the deed before they were sixteen at least. They understood that. "I told you why."

"I know. I know. But I want a child and not one with wings." She let out a soft gentle laugh, but underneath was sadness and longing. "You can blame Arya for that and maybe Tommen." She pressed herself closer to me, and we both savoured the warmth of the other.

Tightening the embrace, I couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Is that so? Have the two young children melted the dragon queen's heart?"

She gave me a playful wrack and I snickered. "Arya's feisty and Tommen's sweet. They're both sweet and have shown me I want a child of my own. A little prince or princess or both." She smiled wistfully. "Two children for the other two dragons. Wouldn't you like that? A daughter to fuss over and a son for you to train in arms?"

In truth, I never cared for children and actively made a point to avoid them in my past life. I didn't think I'd be a good parent and that might have also played a part in me avoiding my duties to bring another into existence. "Like with what I'm doing already with both our guests?" I asked, grinning. "Tommen's a good boy. He's been enjoying his lessons with Duck, though Myles and Connington scare him. But Arya though . . . how's she been since Harrenhal?"

"Petulant. Angry, you could say. Arya did believe she was returning to her family. She hasn't though and blames us for it. Not Robb who refused to bend the knee."

"She'll get over it I'm sure. She's quite adaptable. Quite a few children are at that age."

"And if he doesn't?"

"You know the answer, my love." War. The answer neither of us wants. "But that's the far future and we should be more worried about the next battle we face. The one that's more important and will turn the tide of this war."