24

Daenerys

Today was the day that Daenerys was finally going out into the city of King's Landing and see it with her own eyes. For years she could only guess what it could look like. As a girl she used to think it was full of cascading towers and majestic structures like Old Valyria once had but Varys had shot down those ideas saying that no city could ever be like Valyria ever again. King's Landing was like any other city. But she had to disagree. This was a marvelous place and to know it was because of her ancestors that it exists made her feel proud.

She was even more than pleased that she would be joined by not just Missandei but Sansa and Lady Margaery as well. Both of them had become good company and she would most certainly call them her friends if tensions between her and Aegon were soon relieved.

She wouldn't let her mind be clouded with the distress of the negotiations. She knew that a resolve must be found soon, but there was nothing wrong with a few days of time to collect one's thoughts about it. She knew full too well how much mental fatigue was brought upon the duties of royalty. In a few days, they would resume negotiations for a resolve.

For now, Daenerys and the other ladies, accompanied by her faithful guard Ser Jorah and Sansa Stark's sworn sword Sandor Clegane, would be riding steady on horseback throughout the city. Everyone except for Sansa and the Hound were present, but the missing two had arrived swiftly.

Daenerys' first impression of the famous Hound of House Lannister was every bit what she expected when Jorah tried to initiate a greeting with him.

"Our apologies for being late," Sansa greeted, "given previous experience in the streets, I felt it wise that Ser Jorah be returned Longclaw." She looked at Sandor who held the sword out to Ser Jorah.

"Clegane," he started when they all gathered at the Red Keep's stables, "last time I saw you-"

"Was sometime at I don't give a damn." The man with a face burned worse than Margaery completely ignored all of them except for Sansa as he pushed the sword into Ser Jorah's hands.

"And," Sansa revealed from underneath her arm a dagger, "that you should be returned this, your grace." Sansa offered out the Valyrian Steel dagger that was given to Daenerys in Volantis.

"Thank you," Daenerys said as she strapped the blade to her belt.

"Does it have a name?" Sansa asked.

Daenerys smiled in amusement. "I haven't found the time nor the imaginative idea for a name yet."

Sansa smiled back. "Then that makes two of us." She patted the dragger at her side. "My sister came up with the idea of calling mine Catspaw, but I'd rather not have it remind me of its first involvement in my family." Without help, Sansa was able to mount her horse while Lady Margaery did require use of a stool.

Daenerys looked puzzled as she mounted her horse. "What involvement was that?"

"An assassin tried to use this dagger to kill my brother, Bran. Those who knew about it were tricked to think it was the Lannisters who sent it, but they were wrong. It was Petyr Baelish."

Daenerys smiled sardonically. "I'm glad I will never meet the man. But he had fine taste in daggers. Yours is more beautifully decorated."

Sansa spurred her horse forward into a walk and everyone followed her and Daenerys at the lead. "Logically, I think mine suits you more. The handle's made of dragonbone. Perfect for a Valyrian… hm."

"What is it?"

"Just an idea for a name that came to mind for yours, if would allow me to suggest."

Daenerys smiled. "I welcome any idea."

"What about Dragonclaw? Your sworn sword carries Longclaw, and a dragon does have claws too. Or are they talons?"

"Talons," Daenerys confirmed.

Margaery chimed in with her idea. "I suppose Dragonscale would be more suitable for a shield."

"Hm…" Daenerys smirked.

"Valyrianfang," Jorah said from behind them. "Looks more like a tooth than a claw."

"Yes," Daenerys agreed and looked at Sansa's dagger, "but that one has the right shape."

"Mine? I'd get teased by Arya if I named it anything. She always prods at me for doing something unlady-like these days."

"Let her tease," Margaery said, "she's not the one with Valyrian steel… a Valyrian claw."

Sansa tried to hide her smile but failed. "I'll think about it."

They first passed the district closest to the castle, the finest and cleanest being home to the nobles and wealthy, then as they got deeper into the city things began to change bit by bit. It was not a terrible place to call home but it certainly could use some help and repair. But according to Margaery's words, this was far better than the Baratheon rule, otherwise they would be treading through the contents of chamberpots.

Here and there, people had looked upon the four women riding and gave waves and praises of love at the former Queen Margaery who waved back but they could not see her smile under the veil that hid her scarred face. She was the only one to receive praise while Daenerys, Missandei, and Sansa too, were all given mixed looks. Some of them pleasant and awestruck, the others not so much.

There were some men looking directly at Daenerys with daggers in their eyes fixated on her. If they had crossbows, Daenerys had no doubt they would fire them.

"Does the city have much to compare with those of Slaver's Bay?" Margaery asked but quickly corrected herself. "Apologies, I mean the Bay of Dragons."

"Certainly," Daenerys said, "In Meereen the stone was pale and many pyramids were built higher than the tallest tower of the Red Keep. It is an imposing city but also ancient. In a thousand years, I'm certain King's Landing will transform into a place to rival Old Valyria."

"And what were the people like?" Sansa asked. "I heard stories that in your time conquering the slavers, the people showered you with praise and love the instant you entered their cities."

"They did," Daenerys confirmed with pride but without arrogance, "and there was a small part of me that expected the same greeting from the people after I had defeated the Lannisters. But my nephew has beaten me to it."

Sansa giggled loud enough for everyone to hear, enough for the Hound to snort without anyone noticing. "By the time we marched into the castle, no one even knew we were there. From what some of our men told us, the people woke up to their local criers announcing that House Targaryen reigned once again on the Iron Throne and no one cheered and neither did they boo. They just went about their day."

Missandei voiced her thoughts on this matter. "Your cousin has not brought himself into the view of the people then?"

"No. I've tried to arrange a time for him to ride throughout the city so the people can see him, but he always finds something to keep himself at work."

"If you do not mind me saying so, but that is a poor choice on his account. I understand he has his duties and the weight of importance they have, but the morale and mood of the people is of equal footing. How can he expect them to support him if they do not know him?"

"I believe he made the excuse that he would appear too vain of a character in the eyes of the common people."

"But Sansa," Margaery spoke up, "King Aegon is anything but vain. He is strong and a leader, the sight of him would certainly invigorate the people's hearts with security."

Unexpectedly, Missandei voiced a strong thought. "I have spent many years in the courts of high men and seen just as many of good hearts become corrupted by power day after day when it is finally given to them." From the dark set in her eyes, all women could tell there were some things unsaid. "Things are always brightest in the beginning but then they slowly turn dark and sometimes darker than they used to be. And I worry about what rule will come forth in later months given King Aegon's past. He led the Night's Watch, a noble deed, but that is a military order, not the same as a true lordship. Men of war are not well made for the burdens of a crown."

Sansa looked coldly at Missandei. "You speak of him even though it has been only weeks? Less than a few moon turns that you have known he has existed. I have known him most of my life and know he has every trait that the realms deserve in a King. And what you do not know is his duties to the Wildlings when he let them through the Wall. Their settlement became his responsibility, much like a lord's over his lands and people."

Once the meek, shy girl that Daenerys had freed in Astapor, none of that but an innate tendency to quiet remained in Missandei. "You are right in that I do not know Aegon as you do, but I know Queen Daenerys. I trust her since she has proven herself trustworthy and willing to endure anything for those who most wouldn't give a second look about. No one else deserves to rule more than she." Her brow rose. "Tell me though, would your cousin have made peace with the Wildlings if there hadn't been an army of dead men coming for them? From what I know, the feud with them has been for thousands of years."

Sansa did not respond immediately, she looked collected and trying to calm herself. "That is not mine to answer. Only he can tell you. He lived with them, fought with them, became one of them. The Free Folk are his people now as much as the Northmen are."

"Free Folk?" Margaery asked.

"It is what the Wildlings call themselves and what the King calls them. You will hardly ever hear the word Wilding come from his lips… I still call them that out of habit. Have been meaning to break it."

Such a statement showed a great devotion to one's people. If Aegon had truly gone through such things and was able to make peace to a most famous and ancient feud like that, then there was certainly a leadership there to be reckoned with.

Daenerys calmed the air between her friend and Sansa. "If the King will permit me an hour or two that we can talk again, I would hear of his tales and travels from him personally. There is no better source than him."

"You are right," said Margaery, "which brings the question, may we hear your story, your grace? I have heard bits and pieces but never enough to have guessed that you would be as grand as you are."

"Gladly, my lady. When we return to the Red Keep, I will regale you and Lady Stark with my journeys and trials. And I expect to hear yours as well."

They rode onward, finding many things to have smalltalk about like a Queen would with her ladies in waiting, but riding among the people to see the city was far better than sitting down for tea and cakes.

Finally, they came to the last place of Cersei Lannister's destruction upon the world. Daenerys never made an effort to see the horrible woman and there was no need for her to. She had no conflict with the woman, may she rot in her cell for all her misdeeds.

Margaery led the way on foot towards the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor. The closest they could get was halfway up a set of scorched stairs before there was too much broken stone to go any further. King Aegon was arranging to have it cleared and a new Sept to be built, but apparently he was waiting for something, a meeting with someone from the Iron Bank if Varys' spies were to be believed. She had her doubts when they learned that many of them now served the one called Qyburn.

Margaery laid down a collection of roses at the base of the rubble, removing her vail and saying her last words in quiet.

Sansa had told Daenerys first that Margaery's father and several of her cousins had all been killed in the explosion, but Daenerys could hear Margaery speaking words of condolence for all who perished in that tragic event. She certainly was one deserving of the title of Queen.

After a few minutes of silence, Margaery stood back up and restored her veil. "I'm glad it's gone," she announced suddenly, "too much corruption and evil has been held in what should have been a holy place."

Daenerys caught a brief glance Margaery gave to Sansa who responded with a lowered head of remorse. "This is where your father was murdered, wasn't it?" Daenerys asked.

Sansa looked at her. "You're one of the first people to call it for what it was."

Daenerys walked closer to her, sympathy embracing her heart for Sansa's loss. "The monsters aren't here to cast their lies over it anymore."

Sansa stiffened. "I know."

Daenerys could see that Sansa's eyes were so full of hatred when they glanced over to some of the onlookers and she began to understand better. "They aren't players in the game. Our doings are nothing more than a performance on the stage for them… and yet their lives are the ones we hold in our hands, defenseless. A Lord can raise an army or retreat into his keep… they have nothing but hope to shield themselves from what we do."

Sansa looked at her, the anger balancing with sorrow. "Sometimes I want them to simply rot," she said quietly. "They cheered for my father to die as if he was the worst man in the world." A mirthless laugh left her lips. "I wonder how happy they were when Joffrey murdered children and starved them near to death."

"I have seen common people in such a terrible state. Their wills broken and their minds fading. The former masters knew exactly how to handle their property."

"These people were not slaves. They were animals under Joffrey's rule until Tywin Lannister held the true power. Joffrey's games and spectacles could only impress the people for so long until their hunger grew and their neighbors were slaughtered. They rioted, raped, and murdered." There was a slight tense in Sansa's jaw when she went silent.

"And you were in the middle of it?"

She shuddered, remembering the filthy hands on her. "Yes. But as long as I have my protector, I am not afraid of the streets of King's Landing anymore."

Daenerys looked back at the Hound and saw just how attentive he was to the surroundings, eyes darting to every corner in which someone could try to come at them, and how his hand was relaxed but ready to pull free his sword.

She looked back at Sansa, stepping closer. "I have taken betrayal from the common people I have tried to help in my life. The worst from a witch I thought I saved, but she did not care. I lost my husband and my baby." Sansa's tense mood and anger softened. "But I do not let the actions of the few betrayals cast a permanent image of the greater number. And I shouldn't take such a judgmental stance on my nephew, either. If he truly is my brother's son, then he is the hope of our House, our future, and I cannot be the cause of its end."

"Have you sworn to take no husband and mother no children for yourself after losing both?"

It was Daenerys' turn to stiffen with regret and sadness. "I can't have children anymore, Sansa."

"Who told you so?"

"The witch who murdered my husband and baby."

Sansa straightened up. "I have seen my share of mystics and magics, Daenerys, but I've also been near people long enough to sense a lie born of anger that's worth as much as a pile of horse shit."

Daenerys smiled at Sansa's willingness to instill hope in her. "There aren't many who don't take my word for it and a part of me is glad they don't."

"My cousin has shown me that there is always a path to reach hope so long as we have faith in ourselves. If we do not, then there is only death."

"Valar Morghulis," Daenerys said, earning a confused look from Sansa.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, all men must die. But remember Sansa," Daenerys took Sansa's hand in her softly, "We are not men."

Margaery grew a barely visible smirk underneath her veil. "Well spoken, all of us. And I think we should all try to show that we are not like the Queen of Wine, Lies, and Bastard Kings to the people down there."

All eyes went to the bottom of the steps where several small crowds were gathered and looking back up at them. They were all curious.

Missandei leaned over to Daenerys. "It would ease the people's worries about you if you present yourself to them as you did in Meereen."

A good idea. She has not come to conquer them with fire and blood like she had thought she would, but with peace and negotiations.

With this, the women all descended the steps of Baelor back into the streets and met with the common people, not with grand speeches or imposing masks of nobility, but with politeness and courtesies deserving of any human.

A group of shy children found the bravery to scoot closer to them all and Daenerys found it adorable of them. When she beckoned them to come closer, they gathered around with star struck eyes. She knew her beauty was of its own given her Valyrian features. But a few of them were looking at Sansa instead, commenting on how her hair was like fire in sunlight and it made the Lady of House Stark go light pink in her cheeks and form a delightful smile that radiated her joy. It was this pure moment that made Daenerys see Sansa as one with an unchallengeable beauty, one that made her heart flutter.

Jon

"Are you certain about this, your grace?" Ser Remus asked as he draped his brown cloak over his clothes which were simple and made him look no less than a commoner. The newest member of the Kingsguard was reliable but quite the nervous type.

"Consider my telling you to come along how sure I am. I'd prefer to be alone but suddenly going missing would have caused a bigger fuss than usual, don't you think?"

Beric chuckled as he did his sword belt and pulled his hood over his head. "Thoros and I used to do this, mostly because I was the one who had to sneak away from my men."

"Have you gotten word from him recently?" Jon asked as he did his sword belt and pulled his cloak over Blackfyre's hilt.

"He's successfully met with our smaller groups and sent them to Winterfell."

"Good. I just hope they don't cause trouble along the way." Jon wore his hair down for this occasion, being unkempt made him appear far less groomed as he used to like it. He was tempted to bring Jaime along but the gold hair and missing hand were a bit too much of dead giveaways. Instead, Jaime would be instructing some of the new recruits for the castleguard who would be the first to don armor decorated with red dragons.

"He only has to meet with one more of our captains near Harrenhal. There's still some trouble to settle from the war." Beric paused and looked up as he strapped a dagger next to his sword. "He also told me that he's in correspondence with Lady Melisandre on Dragonstone."

"I know." Jon said.

And Melisandre should be receiving the raven today telling her to keep any information regarding his 'visions' from death between him, her, and Thoros if she told him. Personally he would rather not have more people know about it, but the Raven had told him that Kinvara said it would be wise to let Thoros know.

At last, each of them donned gloves to cover the signet rings on their hands, Jon's being freshly made to signify his royal status, a ring of black silver engraved with a dragon tempered red, and each of the Kingsguard would bear one of similar appearance but smithed in white gold and bearing a star of seven swords.

Now ready, they departed without a word to anyone.

Using the front gate was a no, as many nobles who liked to linger outside would immediately see him and that would be the end of his attempted disguise to go into the city discreetly. Luckily he was already memorizing some of the secret passages under the castle, like the one that led to the cellars where the dragon skulls were kept. He didn't care for them much as they made him think of the day he saw Viserion killed. Watching a dragon die wasn't like watching a person. It was a terrible thing.

The three men came outside the passage down below near the water where some fishermen were casting lines for trout. A few of them gave a quick glance but nothing more.

Jon led his two knights into the city, feeling like he just woke up from a good sleep. It was good to get out of that damn castle. He hated living there. He wanted to see the city when it wasn't under siege and destruction.

To his pleasure, he found that the general image of things was better than he imagined, perhaps because he took over and made improvements. But things reminded him much of Wintertown only on a much larger scale.

They passed by many people, someone pulling a cart selling apple bread and cider, a pair of men happy to be on their way to a brothel, a group of children playing a little game of war with sticks as swords.

On the surface, the city looked wonderful, but this was the district closest to the Castle. How did the further ones compare to this?

After a long walk, Jon got his answer. Flea Bottom, a place that made living with Wildings look comfortable. To describe the slums of the city would be to say that they have good foundations, but the rest was tatters and barely hospitable.

Jon leaned over to Beric, "the sewage problem got fixed here, right?" There was a faint, odorous smell familiar to when he first arrived at the city, but there were more scents of bakeries to help overpower it.

"I think it's in the works. I just remember hearing that it doesn't flood anymore when it rains."

"Then remind me to set some gold aside to fix this place. It needs it badly."

"For about a hundred years it's needed care but never gotten it. Still, if the people bred here aren't vile, they're strong." Beric said as they passed by an alleyway with a short, stout man pissing in full view of anyone passing by. "But don't expect the latter to be in greater numbers."

"I won't." Jon then spotted a tavern that looked hospitable and merry. "Let's go there, see if we can hear any good news."

"Good choice. It's a local favorite. The owner knows a few people to get some good beer. Thieves won't steal from him or else they'd have to go places that charge double for the same."

They all wandered inside and found a table available to sit down at. They each ordered a cup of the good beer and listened all around while they waited. People were smiling, telling jokes and stories, it was a good place to leave your worries outside.

But even more, Jon could finally listen to the people and hear what they had to say about the current affairs without them withholding honesty in his presence. People always had an extra bit of truth to say about someone when they weren't in front of them.

"I heard Earl got the boot from the Red Keep finally. Guess he couldn't hide his fences anymore with a wolf sniffing him out."

"Did you see the King when he led the knights into the city on his first day? Half the women in court are probably begging to get filled up with his babes. Some cunts are born lucky with looks."

"Rohan said he saw the Mother of Dragons with Lady Stark and Queen Margaery wandering the streets today. This might be the only chance she's out here. Go tell the others."

"My Lord Bracken's brought his daughters and son to try his hand at either of the dragons. But I doubt Daenerys Targaryen's going to look eagerly at an eight year old boy for a husband."

"If war breaks out, how do we tell each side apart? Both the Targaryens wear the same colors? What about Pure Blood and Half Blood? Because the Mother of Dragons is a genuine Valyrian but King Aegon's got the Stark blood. Do you see what I mean?"

The beer had come quickly and Jon didn't wait for the others to have theirs in hand when he took a good drink of his. Finally, something decent to drink. He never had anything from the South. When he was on Dragonstone with Daenerys, their drinks were brought from Essos and while they were fine and delicious, he never did get attached to the flavors only the rich could afford. He liked the simple things.

"Um," Remus began, "may I ask you something, your grace?"

"Only if you stop calling me that until we get back." He burped. "It's just Jon, alright?"

"Right, Jon," Remus leaned in with a nervous look, "I heard people say that you fought those dead soldiers before. What was it like?"

Jon didn't want to talk about this, but sometimes keeping it in didn't do him any good. "Have you ever been in a proper battle? Against men, horses, knights?"

"I was at the Whisperwood with King Robb, and I also followed the Greatjon into the Westerlands and a few small skirmishes. I'd say three large battles and seven small ones during the war."

"And were you ever afraid when you fought in them?" Jon dropped his voice lower, into a menacing tone. "Your blood running hot as wildfire when all you can think about is to stay moving or you'll die? The screams of men and scraping steel drowning out everything except the bones you break and blood you spill?"

Remus nodded silently.

"Those times are like sitting peacefully under an apple tree compared to the dead. They feel no pain, no fear. When they fight, they swarm. They'll take your sword deep into rotting flesh to keep you from fighting on before the kill, they'll scream so no one can hear you call for help. And the thing you fear most is the last thing you'll see if you die are those horrid eyes that you know belong to death itself." Jon drank deep from his cup again as Beric and Remus sat silently. Remus was afraid and so was Beric, only the latter did a better job of controlling his fear.

"I think I'm glad we met you on the road," said Beric.

Jon raised his cup up. "As am I." The three men clonked their wooden mugs together and each drank deep.

"One more question, Jon."

Eying him, Jon nevertheless nodded.

Breathing deeply, Remus fiddled nervously with his fingers. "Did you ever kill one of the White Walkers?"

"Two. The first one was almost an accident. I was desperately trying to keep myself alive but every weapon I found shattered against its sword of ice. But then I had my sword in my hands again and in one last desperate attempt to live, the Valyrian steel held true and for that brief instant, neither I or the White Walker realized what happened, we both looked at each other in disbelief before I got a swing at his neck and destroyed him."

"So they can be killed?"

He sighed. "Aye, they can… except one. The Night King." Jon gripped the table almost carving out furrows in it with his fingers. "That monster could be shattered into a million pieces… and he'll still survive somehow. We don't yet know how to keep that bastard dead."

"What about the second time?" Beric asked after drinking his beer and letting his mustache soak and drip with his drink.

"Hm? Jon asked.

"You said you killed two White Walkers. What happened the second time?"

Seven bloody Hells! He forgot that the second one didn't happen this time. But a quick omission of details was all that was needed, he just had to make sure he didn't slip like that again. "I was with some Wildlings North of the Wall and we encountered a squad of wights and their lieutenant. He was much easier to fight when you know you have a chance to kill them."

"And their leader? The Night King?"

Jon paused, fidgeting with his drink. "My visions showed me that Arya got the chance and succeeded with a Valyrian Steel dagger." Oh, had they celebrated Arya's glory… even Daenerys... But it was just too easy. They never realized at the time, but she could have been stopped and killed that night but it didn't happen. She could have been killed, maimed, or blocked off but it all was allowed to happen so a much devastating war could happen. "It didn't keep the bastard dead though, his spirit lived on and he was reborn, with the means and the power to succeed and he did." That's what he needed to prevent and find out how to keep the harbinger of death to stay dead.

The three men all went silent. Beric looked more deep in his thoughts, pondering what to do while Remus looked completely nervous and scared shitless and he had every right to be. Remus did not understand things as Jon did, or even as Beric did.

"Cut it out, you cunt!" A woman shouted from across the tavern. The eyes of Jon and his Kingsguard found a pretty barmaid being forcibly fondled by a group of four men. "I said I'm not interested and I'm not a damn whore!"

"And you must be misunderstanding a couple of things as well," a tall one with a balding head of hair told her as he stood up with a tight grip on her wrist, "we weren't offerin' to pay yeh like a whore, and you'll like it once it's done. They all do."

Jon immediately stood up with a hand going to the pommel of his sword, but he was beaten to the scene, not by his Kingsguard or a man from the City Watch, but another tavern patron, a young man older and taller than him with a head of thick brown hair and trimmed beard.

"Get your hands off her or I'll cut them off myself, you pricks." The patron drew a small knife from his belt and held it out. The tall bald man tossed the young barmaid behind him as his companions stood up and each drew swords they had been keeping tucked away from sight. And yet, the young man did not back away. His stance shifted from clear nervousness, but he did not back away. Brave, but foolish.

"Piss off. We got her first. You can have what's left for that tiny cock of yours when we're done."

The patron chuckled. "My cock could be smaller than my knife and it'd still be bigger than yours."

Jon leaned over to Remus. "Find the City Watch and get them here, now. But don't show them your ring." As Remus slipped away, Jon and Beric drew their swords and stepped forward. "That's enough," Jon said loudly, "you let the girl go and come quietly, or it'll be blood you drink instead of beer."

The young patron looked next to him at Jon and Beric. "I don't ask for help, good ser. I entered this of my own will, and I expect to finish it as well."

Now up close, Jon had a better angle to notice that this man's posture and stance was finely conditioned and that of a trained swordsman while the other men were standing too loose and slouching with their swords drawn. Perhaps this was the best time to take a chance for a little test.

"Very well," Jon gestured to Beric's sword. Beric flipped the sword in his hand and offered the hilt to the patron. "But how about we even the odds a little?"

The patron gladly took the sword in his right hand and kept his knife in his left. Beric kept a hand on his dagger as he and Jon stood back to watch instead.

"Well," the patron said, "are you just going to stand around all day or are we going to fight?"

The tall balding one waved his sword above his head like a fool while doing something that Jon was fairly certain was meant to sound like a war cry but it sounded closer to a cracked wail. Regardless, the balding man's strike was easily parried and followed with a grab at his arm. With a turn of his heel, the patron pulled the balding man around using the momentum and sent him crashing to the ground into one of the other men. The other two both attacked at the same time with some coordination, both of them thrust their swords at the patron only for him to sidestep out of the way and beat one upside the head with the hilt of the sword and striking the flat of the blade hard on the other's hand, making him drop his sword.

The patron finished the last one off by throwing a hard kick to his face, sending him crashing backwards into the balding man and the fourth who just got back up.

Jon had to say that this was a damn good fight as he snuck a drink of his beer.

As the four men got to their feet, half a dozen Goldcloaks of the City Watch spilled into the tavern with swords drawn. "Your weapons!" the one leading them exclaimed, "drop them all!"

The four men all dropped their swords and a couple smaller blades to the dirt while the patron returned Beric's sword to him.

"Guardsman!" The balding man said with a broken bloody nose, "I have it on full account that you should arrest that man there!" he pointed over to the patron and limped over to the leader of the Goldcloak. He started muttering a false account of what happened, claiming the patron as the one to handle the barmaid with blackmail and insult, and in between phrases slipped a small bag of what Jon guessed to be a bribe.

"Arrest that one!" The Gold Cloak leader pointed at the patron but Jon, Beric, and Remus stepped forward.

"You'll do no such thing," Jon told them, "you've just accepted a bribe, and that's enough to land you in the black cells for betraying your duty like that."

The leader smirked. "My authority is the King's command, you dumb shit."

"Really?" Jon asked demeaningly as he removed the glove of his right hand and held Blackfyre out, displaying the rubies decorating the dragon hilt. "I don't recall bestowing such to men like you." He lifted his hand to reveal the ring Beric and Remus did with theirs. Four of the gold cloaks went wide eyed and immediately fell to their knees.

"Your grace! All kneel before King Aegon Targaryen!" They said loudly and almost every single person in the tavern followed their example, even the four ruffians. The only ones who didn't were the leader of the gold cloaks and the tall dark-haired man who was too in shock to move.

The leader of the Goldcloaks finally fell to his knees and began to beg. "Please, my King. I didn't mean to disgrace my duty as such. I didn't know it was you! It's not my fault!"

"Not your fault?" Jon asked. "So you mean to say that had it not been me, then all would be well? You listened to only one man's account before passing judgment, you took a bribe to ignore justice, and you lied about my will. It is your fault, you idiot. The rest of you," Jon said, "arise and arrest him," he then pointed at the ruffians, "and them. They'll enjoy their last days in the Black Cells before I decide whether to relieve them of their manhoods or ship them to the Wall. As for him," he pointed back at the former Gold Cloak, "I want an investigation into this man's escapades and extortions before I decide what to do with him. Bring him to the Black Cells as well." He walked up and personally removed the leader's sword belt from him, finding someone better to have good castle forged steel.

The Gold Cloaks did their duty, seizing all the men who committed wrongs in the hour and escorting them out, which led to applause from the people inside the tavern.

Jon's eyes found the patron who was still fallen to one knee. Jon offered the Gold cloak's sword to him.

"Thank you for the blade, your grace."

"Keep it," Jon said, "you're deserving of some good steel. Are you a knight?"

"No. Just a courier. But I live next to the barracks of the Gold Cloaks and would practice what I see them doing every day and night since I was seven. I've only held live steel a few times, once during the Battle of the Blackwater and the other when I won a sword in a gamble… just to lose it back not an hour later."

"You're a good fighter though. Any ambitions to further such a career?"

"I'm just a common man."

"A common man with more honor than a lieutenant of the Gold Cloaks. Why should someone like you not pursue something more if he wants it?"

"It… it's just how things are, I suppose." The man shifted nervously before offering the sword back to Jon. "Please, your grace. I've got no plans in my future that deserve me having this."

Jon looked around at all watching with great intent. "The world is changing and so is what it means to be noble. Is it blood or heart that truly determines such a person?" Jon took the sword back. "What's your name?"

"Wallace, your grace." Wallace said before dropping to his knees before Jon.

"Do you have a surname?"

"No, your grace."

"If you desire one, say it now for all these witnesses to hear." Jon said, gesturing the sword to the people as though it were his arm instead.

Wallace gulped but did not raise his head. His eyes were darted back and forth to the ground and Jon's boots. "I… will be called Oakstar, your grace. It was the tales of Ser Duncan the Tall that inspired me, and his sigil is one I have always admired. You have asked, and I say to all, my name is Wallace Oakstar."

"No, That is not all you shall be." Jon told him as he lowered the flat of the blade onto Wallace's right shoulder. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," Wallace sucked in a small gasp as Jon shifted the blade to the left shoulder, "In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just," and once more, the blade fell on the right shoulder, "in the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the Innocent." Jon's blade slipped down and Wallace looked up at him in awe and respect. "Arise, Ser Wallace Oakstar, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

Several people applauded loudly and then just about everyone in the tavern began to clap and cheer for a common man being knighted by the King himself.

"Your grace… my King, I cannot thank you enough for this gift. What may I offer you if I can?"

"I need good men like you. Honorable and skilled. And my Kingsguard has a few positions that need filling." a wave of awe passed throughout the listeners when such an honor was offered next.

Wallace's eyes widened. "You would offer me such an honor?"

"I would. But will you accept?"

Wallace swallowed and kneeled once again. "I will, your grace."

Jon smirked. "Come then, why don't you join us on our way back to the castle." Jon patted his newest Kingsguard on the shoulder and with Beric and Remus behind, they made for the door only to find themselves face to face with Davos, Tyrion, Varys, and Gendry. Davos' mouth fell agape to see Jon as he was, dressed as a common man in a lowly but good tavern. "Davos, good to see you. When you get back to the castle, let Ser Brynden know there are still a few more rats to pick out of the City Watch. And I'd like for you to meet Ser Wallace Oakstar, newly knighted and soon to be the fourth member of the Kingsguard." Davos' stuttered and Jon didn't give him the chance to make a good response. He simply patted his Hand on the shoulder and smiled. "Good day then."

Once Jon and his knights had gotten a good distance away from the tavern, Remus and Wallace started chuckling which turned into full blown laughter and Jon was surprised to find himself laughing as much as they were.