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Below is the character sheet for House Lannister as of 298 AC that was created and used as a reference by me (bhanfhen)

Descendants of Ser Jason Lannister (B. 229 AC – D. 260 AC) with Lady Alys Stackspear (B. ~192-233 AC – D. 244 or 245 AC) and Lady Marla Prester (B. ~212-215 AC – D. unknown). Fic starts in 298 AC (Robert Baratheon’s visit to Winterfell)

• Lynora Hill (B. 243-244 AC) First born daughter of Jason and unnamed serving girl.
  • Is a bastard.
  • 54-55 in 298 AC.
  • Unclear if she is still alive.
• Ser Damon Lannister (B. 244 AC)– First born son of Jason and Alys Stackspear.
  • 54 in 298 AC.
  • Assumed to be blond haired and green eyed.
  • Husband to Ella Lannister.
  • His children with Ella Lannister.
    • Ser Damion Lannister ( 256-273 AC B. 263 AC) – Son of Damon and Ella Lannister
      • 35 in 298-299 AC.
      • Assumed to be blond haired and green eyed.
      • Husband to Shiera Crakehall.
      • His children with Shiera Crakehall.
        • Lucion Lannister (B. 268-285 AC) – Son of Damion and Shiera Crakehall.
        • Lanna Lannister (B. 269-286) – Daughter of Damion and Shiera Crakehall.
          • Married to Lord Antario Jast.
          • Her children.
            • Unnamed sons.

• Lady Joanna Lannister (B. 244-252 AC – D. 273 AC) – First born daughter of Jason and Marla Prester. DEAD.
  • Dead by 273 AC.
  • Wife to Tywin Lannister.
  • Her children with Tywin Lannister.
    • Cersei and Jaime Lannister (B. 266 AC) – see below for more details.
    • Tyrion Lannister (B. 273 AC) – see below for more details.

• Ser Stafford Lannister (B. 245-253 AC) – First born son of Jason and Marla Prester.
  • Assumed to be blond haired and green eyed.
  • Husband to Myranda Lefford.
  • His children with Myranda Lefford.
    • Ser Daven Lannister (B. 273 AC) – First born son of Stafford and Myranda Lefford.
      • 25 in 298 AC.
      • Hazel eyes, pug nose, yellow hair, and a big chin.
      • Jovial and outspoken.
    • Lady Jeyne Lannister [Mae – Gender-bent Self-Insert] (B. 275 AC) – First born daughter of Stafford and Myranda Lefford.
      • 23 in 298 AC.
        • Known as the Huntress – the Temptress
      • Blonde hair at shoulder length and hazel eyes.
        • Is described as beautiful in a defiant and lithe way.
        • Looks similar to Cersei when she was that age.
          • Cersei thinks Jeyne is not as beautiful but not ugly either.
        • Shorter than Jason.
      • Older Twin to Jason Lannister.
      • Owns the Valyrian Steel dagger with dragonbone hilt.
        • Won from a wager made with Petyr Baelish.
        • Jeyne bet on Loras Tyrell winning and Petyr on Jaime Lannister winning.
          • Loras won and the dagger was hers.
        • Is proficient in wielding a sword and dagger, rides astride instead of sidesaddle, and flirts and flaunts with the Faith of the Seven’s rules and customs.
          • Flirts with Lyle “Strongboar” Crakehall.
          • Flirts with Alysanne Lefford.
        • Has fully accepted the change in gender.
    • Ser Jason Lannister [Jae reincarnated] (B. 275 AC) – Second born son of Stafford and Myranda Lefford.
      • 23 in 298 AC.
      • Blond hair and hazel eyes.
        • Has a close-cropped beard.
        • Had his nose broken in the past, there is a slight deviation to it now.
        • Taller than Jeyne.
      • Younger Twin to Jeyne Lannister
        • He is nicknamed as “Jae” by Jeyne.
      • Is as good with a sword as Jaime Lannister.
    • Lady Cerenna Lannister (B. ~274 AC) – Third born daughter of Stafford and Myranda Lefford.
      •  
      • 24 in 298 AC.
      • Assumed to be blond haired and green eyed.
    • Lady Myrielle Lannister (B. ~275 AC) – Fourth born daughter of Stafford and Myranda Lefford.
      • 23 in 298 AC.
      • Assumed to be blond haired and green eyed.

Descendants of Lord Tytos Lannister (B. 220 AC – D. 267 AC) and Lady Jeyne Marbrand (B. ~203-230 AC – D. 255 AC).

• Lord Tywin Lannister – Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.
  • 56 in 298 AC.
  • Bald but had bushy side whiskers and pale green eyes flecked with gold.
  • Widower of Joanna Lannister
  • His children with Joanna Lannister.
    • Queen Regent Cersei Lannister (B. 266 AC) – Eldest daughter of Tywin and Joanna.
      • 32 in 298 AC.
      • Blond hair and green eyes.
      • Wife to Robert Baratheon.
      • Mother to three children with Jaime Lannister (Officially with Robert Baratheon)
        • Prince Joffrey Baratheon (B. 286 AC) – Heir of the Seven Kingdoms.
          • 12 in 298 AC.
          • Blond hair and green eyes.
          • Sadistic and uncontrollable temper.
          • As of now, confined to Maegor’s Holdfast on orders of Lord Regent Gerold.
        • Princess Myrcella Baratheon (B. 290 AC) – Firstborn daughter of Cersei and Jaime (Officially with Robert Baratheon)
          • 8 in 298 AC.
          • “Golden curls and emerald eyes with full lips.”
          • “delicate, beautiful, and courteous for her age, with a strong will and high intelligence.”
          • “Has all of her mother’s beauty, but none of her nature.” A good thing.
        • Prince Tommen Baratheon (B. 291 AC) – Second born son of Cersei and Jaime (Officially with Robert Baratheon)
          • 8 in 298 AC.
          • Blond hair and green eyes.
          • Good-hearted, tenderhearted, not strong-willed. A kid basically.
      • Lover to Jaime.
    • Ser Jaime Lannister (B. 266 AC) – Knight of the Kingsguard.
      • 32 in 298 AC.
      • Blond hair and green eyes.
      • Father (Not acknowledged) of Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen.
      • Lover to Cersei.
    • Tyrion Lannister (B. 273 AC) – Dwarf and third son of Tywin and Joanna.
      •  
      • 25 in 298 AC.
      • Blond hair and mismatched green and black eyes.
      • Is a dwarf.

• Ser Kevan Lannister – younger brother of Tywin.
  • 54 in 298 AC.
  • A larger man with thick waist and broad shoulders. Short blond hair and close-cropped blond beard.
  • Husband to Lady Dorna Swyft.
  • His children with Dorna Swyft.
    • Ser Lancel Lannister (B. 282 AC) – First born son of Kevan and Dorna Swyft.
      • 16 in 298 AC.
      • Sandy hair and green eyes.
      • Looks like and admired Ser Jaime.
    • Willem Lannister (B. 285-287 AC) – Second born son of Kevan and Dorna Swyft.
      • 11-13 in 298 AC.
      • Either long blond or short brown hair.
      • Squire of House Lannister.
      • Twin to Martyn.
    • Martyn Lannister (B. 285-287 AC) – Third born son of Kevan and Dorna Swyft.
      • 11-13 in 298 AC.
      • Most likely has blond hair and green eye.
      • Squire of House Lannister.
      • Twin to Willem.
    • Janei Lannister (B. 296-297 AC) – First born daughter of Kevan and Dorna Swyft.
      • 1-2 in 298 AC.
      • Most likely has blond hair and green eyes.

• Genna Frey nee Lannister (B. 245 AC) – younger sister of Tywin.
  • 53 in 298 AC.
  • Square figure (fat) with board smooth face.
  • Married to Emmon Frey, who she considers inept.
  • Her children with Emmon Frey.
    • Ser Cleos Frey (B. 257-276 AC) – First born son of Genna and Emmon Frey.
      • 22-41 in 298 AC.
      • Husband to Jeyne Darry.
      • His children with Jeyne Darry.
        • Tywin Frey (B. 287-288 AC) – First born son of Cleos and Jeyne Darry.
          • Unclear if he’s a knight or a squire.
        • Willem Frey (B. 289-290 AC) – Second born son of Cleos and Jeyne Darry.
          • A page at Ashemark.
    • Ser Lyonel Frey (B. 258-283 AC) – Second born son of Genna and Emmon Frey.
      • Married to Melesa Crakehall.
    • Tion Frey (B. around 284 AC) – Third born son of Genna and Emmon Frey.
      •  
      • A squire.
    • “Red” Walder Frey (B. 285 AC) – Fourth born son of Genna and Emmon Frey.
      • A page or squire at Casterly Rock.

• Ser Tygett Lannister (B. 250 AC – D. ~ or before 285 AC) – younger brother of Tywin. DEAD.
  • Dead around 285 AC.
  • Married to Lady Darlessa Marbrand.
  • His children with Darlessa Marbrand.
    • Tyrek Lannister (B. 286 AC) – Son of Tygett and Darlessa Marbrand.
      • 12 in 298 AC.
      • Betrothed to the infant Ermesande Hayford.
      • Nicknamed the “Wet Nurse” because of that.

• Ser Gerion Lannister (B. 255 AC) – younger brother of Tywin. MISSING.
  • Assumed dead after traveling into the Smoking Sea of Valyria.
  • Joy Hill (B. 288 AC) – Bastard daughter of Gerion and Briony a common woman.

Akhal-Teke Horse (google it) - reference for Jeyne's horse.

Below is the unfinished first chapter for the fic, The Other Lannisters, a what-if fic where Jae (Jon Snow/Jaehaerys Targaryen) and Mae (Cregan Snow/Maekar Targaryen) are reborn as children (twins?) of Ser Stafford Lannister

Note - This fic was supposed to be connected to both the [Corvus Black and the TIMELINE!] and [Maekar, Jaehaerys, and the Timeline] series.

Summary/Blurb for the fic - "Ser Stafford Lannister has five children – it just so happens that two of them are former dragons stuck in lion furs – and they are both rather tired of playing this game of thrones. (OC Lannister Self-Inserts)"

It was a funny little plot bunny I had and 2.7K words came from it in the end. 

Enjoy reading!

“What’s with the queer look on your face?”

Tyrion Lannister watched as his cousin looked over at him with that curious expression. Ser Jason Lannister was but two years younger than Tyrion’s twenty-five years, yet he was an inch or so taller than Jaime, and on a good day a better swordsmen as well. His cousin was also vaguely similar to Jaime in the face, and while the golden hair was all Lannister, his eyes were hazel from his Lefford mother. His nose had also been broken in the past, so there was a slight deviation to it, but the close-cropped beard drew most of the attention.

At times Tyrion imagined that this was what Jaime would have looked like he if hadn’t taken the white cloak and swore himself to nothing but the Kingsguard. Jason was in the red and gold of House Lannister, the golden lion roaring on his breast, golden armor standing out amidst the party of grey steel. He may not have been of the main line, but his father was the younger brother to Tyrion’s own mother and a goodbrother of Lord Tywin Lannister himself, and he was very much a son of Casterly Rock.

“It’s one thing to hear about Winterfell, but it’s another thing to see it.” Jason said and Tyrion had to agree with the man.

The party of King Robert Baratheon was approaching Winterfell at a sedate pace. The grey walls loomed in the distance and Tyrion noted that the seat of House Stark was in fact bigger than the Red Keep. when he had first laid eyes upon those red bricks down in King’s Landing, he could not have thought of anything to supersede it, only Casterly Rock could hold that title, yet here he was seeing it. The white and grey direwolf banners were flapping in the wind and the light coating of snow upon the battlements made it seem like cake with frosting.

“It does not compare to Casterly Rock? I’m not going to lose you to the Wall either?” Tyrion said with a smile and a chuckle. “You look like you’ve returned home from a long and weary journey.”

The last thing Tyrion expected of his cousin was to get teary eyed at that. The man was a knight and one of some renown at that, someone who had even Lord Tywin’s approval, and to see him almost in tears was disturbing to Tyrion. For as long as he could remember Jason had never cried or even get close to anger. Tyrion, Jason, and his twin sister Jeyne would run around Casterly Rock laughing and smiling.

Though, Jason was also laughing here, just with tears in his eyes.

“Apologies cousin.” Jason said with a wet laugh as he wiped his eyes with one hand whilst keeping ahold of the reins of his courser with the other. “Your words spurred a memory of a truly bawdy jest that Jeyne had told.”

Tyrion continued to eye his cousin as the man regained control, his eyes dried, and his laugher settling. Though, the smile never went away, and Tyrion was unsure of whether that was because of the joke or Jason’s demeaner. The man was always smiling and half the time it seemed that he was the only person in the know about some bawdy jest. At times Tyrion envied his cousin, Jason and Jeyne were as thick as thieves always with their heads huddled together, not unlike Cersei and Jaime when they were younger.

Oh, that was a horrid line of thought. Tyrion shook his head at that and reordered himself. Jason and Jeyne were not like Cersei and Jaime. To compare Tyrion’s bitch of a sister to Lady Jeyne Lannister was a most heinous crime. Those two women couldn’t have been anymore different if they tried. Cersei hated him with every part of her body and Jeyne was one of his best friends. Jeyne was prettier than Cersei – and Tyrion would die on that hill if needed – and she was kinder than his sister by far. She knew how to sing and dance to almost any tune to be heard and had a love for wine and horse riding as well. She made bawdy jests that had Uncle Gerion spurting wine from his nose and Uncle Tygett shaking his head in bemused dismay. Even Uncle Kevan and Tyrion’s lord father were not safe from her jesting, though if anyone was to say that Lord Tywin Lannister had been seen smiling or laughing at one of Jeyne’s jests, then that person would soon be short of tongue.

Tyrion had spent many a long night within Casterly Rock’s libraries going through old tomes with Jeyne whilst Jason snored lightly in his own seat. His cousin had a thirst for knowledge that was almost as great as his own. Tyrion doubted that Cersei had ever visited a library after her lessons with the maesters had finished, and he wouldn’t wager gold on Jaime lifting a book either, his hands were made for swords and lances after all. There was simple nothing to compare the two of them.

If only Jeyne and Jason were his older siblings, then the world would have been a better place.

“Soldier up cousin.” Tyrion said as he looked ahead. “We’re about to arrive.”

“No need to fear for me Tyrion.” Jason said and offered him a smile. “I’d be worried about Jeyne if I were you. She’s been quieter than usual these past two days.”

Tyrion looked for any sign of fallacy in his cousin’s expression and found none. When none were found, Tyrion swallowed and sent a quick prayer to the Warrior to give him strength, for when Jeyne Lannister got quiet, there was bound to be chaos to follow.

Jason thought the same, if the look on his face was to go by, and as they rode through the gates and into the main courtyard of Winterfell both of them couldn’t help but notice that Jeyne Lannister was conspicuously absent from the party.

Everyone else was present from what Tyrion could see from his special saddle. King Robert had dismounted with some effort from his horse and was now speaking with the solemn Lord Stark. The rest of the household that had come to greet the man had since risen from their knees once more. Tyrion spotted his elder brother Jaime taking off his Kingsguard helm, a head of blond hair being shaken about, golden locks loosening as he did. Cersei’s great wheelhouse was stuck behind the iron gates of Winterfell, the wooden monstrosity too large to fit through, and Tyrion chuckled at the sight.

They had all to a man had ridden through the gates, but Cersei would walk, and Tyrion watched with a grin as his sister did just that. Jason snorted and rolled his eyes at Tyrion, but the dwarf of Lannister cared not for it. He would take anything he could get, and this little victory was all his. Myrcella and Tommen followed their mother and Tyrion offered them a genuine smile. Two of Cersei’s three children were previous, Myrcella the perfect lady and her brother still had the innocence of youth, though the less said about Joffrey the better.

Said child was smirking like he was already king, and they were all seven feet under. May the Gods Old and New help them all when the day came that Robert Baratheon breathed his last and the Iron Throne went to Joffrey Baratheon. Tyrion did not doubt that his nephew would make the reigns of Aegon the Unworthy and Aenys the Weak look like child’s play. The boy had a cruel streak that knew no bounds.

“What say you that we visit the Winterfell Library?” Jason offered as the introductions dragged on. Robert Baratheon seemed to want to greet every single member of House Stark and the man was currently making his way down the line of red-haired children. “I hear that there are some tomes here that not even the Citadel have.”

It was certainly enticing, and Tyrion voiced as much, but before he could call some servants to help him from his horse the voice of the king bellowed through the courtyard.

“We must go on a great hunt Ned!” Robert’s arm was meaty as it was strong, and Lord Stark nearly staggered as his arm was slapped affectionately. “You’ve yet to meet the Huntress!”

Jason groaned from beside Tyrion, a rueful grin lighting his face, and Tyrion simply grinned at the look of confusion on Lord Stark’s face. Though, there was no time for the man to ask just who the king had spoken of, for the sound of horse hooves pounding upon the snow-covered earth could be heard in the air. Men and women, knights and ladies, servants and serving wenches all turned to look at the latest arrival, and Tyrion did not doubt that they would all remember it for days to come.

“Complete arse,” Jason grimaced, though there was also a smile coming to his lips. “to one-up the king of all people.”

“But you cannot deny that only she would do such a thing.” Tyrion said. “And she is possibly the only person that Robert would allow.”

Through the iron gates of Winterfell came a horse whose coat was of a soft gold that seemed more a shade of brown that was so light one would mistake it for the glow of the sun. It was graceful and majestic if Tyrion had even seen a horse. The saddle upon it was of the finest leather of pure black, the metal shining to a mirror finish, and upon said saddle was the Huntress herself.

Lady Jeyne Lannister was not garbed in the fashion of a lady of the court but of a rider and dare he say a warrior. The riding leaders she wore were of a supple brown coloring. Boots were black as midnight and came up halfway to her knees. She wore the furs of a bear, the massive thing fluttering behind her back as she rode into the courtyard like a queen, or mayhaps a lioness. Golden blonde hair was pulled back from her face and braided, hanging over one shoulder and giving clear view of that unblemished and beautifully sculpted face for all of Winterfell to see, those hazel eyes flitting around at them all with humor. A smile upon her lips was one that brightened any room she walked into and the way she sat astride in her saddle exuded confidence.

Though what truly stood out was the dagger resting at her hip, slender with a dragonbone hilt, the blade was of Valyrian Steel. Won through a wager, Jeyne had laughed in the face of Petyr Baelish when Jaime had been unhorsed during Joffrey’s name day tourney, and Tyrion hadn’t found it in himself to even be mad. The look on Littlefinger’s face was enough.

“Your Grace!” Jeyne said as she swung herself from the saddle, one foot rising high above her horse’s neck in a way that was both graceful and scandalous, and landed on her feet with a hop. “Lord Stark! You’ve grown even more handsome since we last met.”

Tyrion heard Jason sigh from beside him as his twin sister walked up to Lord Stark and offered him a pretty smile. Lord Stark himself looked like he was struggling at remaining stoic. Lady Stark looked stuck between scandalized and appalled. Robert was grinning and had laughed at the comment. Cersei was glaring at their cousin with distaste, though Jeyne took it all in stride, not even acknowledging Cersei’s presence. Everyone else with the king’s party was either used to the theatrics or thoroughly ignored it all. The people of Winterfell all looked shocked however, and many of them struggled to remain composed at the very unladylike way that Jeyne acted, and Tyrion wished them all well for that was truly a futile task.

“A-And you as well, my lady.” Lord Stark managed to get out, though there was definitely a touch of pink to those frozen cheeks of his under that beard, and that made Jeyne smile all the more.

“I hope you’ll invite me to your godswood sometime during this visit.” Jeyne continued whilst liking her lips and giving the man a look as if he were a slab of meat and she was in need of a feast. Tyrion didn’t know if she was playing with poor Ned Stark or if she was serious. “I find myself curious for I’ve heard many things of the place. That one cannot lie in front of a heart tree. I’d like to find the truth of that, to see if I can truly lie, and who better to do so than with the Honorable Ned Stark?”

“Gods be good.” Jason muttered as he dismounted his horse. Tyrion had half a mind to stop the knight from ruining the show but thought better. There was a limit to how much Jeyne could get away with and while she hadn’t crossed it yet, she was certainly coming very close to it.

Though, Robert seemed to be enjoying this a whole lot more than some in the courtyard, and his bellowing laughter proved that. By contrast Lord Stark looked vaguely horrified at Jeyne’s words, and Tyrion did not doubt that the veiled words hit their mark in the Warden of the North, for even a lackwit would have understood them. There was a certain rugged handsomeness to Ned Stark, Tyrion could admit that, and Jeyne had a tendency to play with the hearts of men. Certainly, Catelyn Stark thought as well, the woman had borne five trueborn children for the man, and the way she looked right now was of a woman barely holding onto her civility in the face of a temptress.

“Lady Stark, the years have been most kind to you, and dare I say you are the prettiest of old Hoster Tully’s.” Jeyne said as she took the Lady of Winterfell by the shoulders and pecked a kiss onto her cheek. Catelyn Stark was now frozen in shock with a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks as well.

Jeyne had just made her way to Lord Stark’s heir when Jason finally reached his sister’s side. “Apologies for my sister’s behavior, we’ve had a long journey upon the Kingsroad.” Was offered and then Jason was shuffling his sister away from the Starks. Jeyne pouted at her twin brother, which did nothing but draw a roll of the eyes from the man, then she waved over her shoulder at the Starks, and at Ned Stark in particular.

Tyrion couldn’t help but smile at the scandal that his cousin had attempted to spark in the courtyard just now. Her words about “livening up the North” came back to him and he had to admit that this was probably something he should have expected. Everyone in the North was so cold and serious, no smiles and few jests, so of course Jeyne would go around bringing some more emotions from all of these people. It had certainly worked on the younger Starks, with the red-haired heir looking like he was struggling to not laugh. The elder sister looked as appalled as Lady Stark did whilst the younger black haired one looked at Jeyne’s retreating form as if she were her new favorite person. The younger boys didn’t look like they understood what had happened, though Tyrion did spot a long face in the back that looked a lot like Ned Stark, and that boy was certainly blushing.

“No doubt that this will be an interesting visit.” Jaime said as he walked over to Tyrion’s horse. Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark were moving off towards the Winterfell Crypt and Cersei protested at that. Tyrion offered his older brother a smile as he went through the laborious task of dismounting his specially designed saddle on his specially trained horse.

“Aye, indeed, it will be interesting,” Tyrion said as he reached the ground. “but I think you should get to our sweet sister before she causes an even greater scandal than the one Jeyne already has.”

Note - And that is as far as I got before I lost the muse. I'm leaving this here for the enjoyment of my readers as well as offering it up to anyone who wants to pick up where I left off with the idea. I might come back to it eventually but no promises there.

Chapter Text

I always wondered why there were no Stark cadet branches other than the Karstarks.

Canonically, Artos Stark – brother of Lord Willam Stark – had two children with Lysara Karstark, the twins Brandon and Benjen. Brandon and Benjen were first cousins with Lord Edwyle Stark, and while they had children, it is uncertain if they have any living descendants as of AGOT. If they were to have had descendants, they would be not too far removed from the main line Starks during ASOIAF.

In this AU, Lord Willam Stark established the non-hereditary title of Lord Cailin, the commander of Moat Cailin (akin to the Knight of the Bloody Gate), and granted the position to his younger brother, Artos Stark. Tasked with maintaining a garrison and repairing the ancient stronghold from its ruined state, it was deemed a thankless task by most of the North, but Artos saw it as a great honor and dedicated the rest of his life to it, especially after Willam is killed by Raymen Redbeard.

Brandon (Son of Artos) would follow his father as Lord Cailin, being named as such by Lord Edwyle. He would continue his father’s work and would achieve such progress during the lordships of Edwyle and Rickard that the title of Lord Cailin became all but hereditary for the line of Artos, and Brandon would eventually be succeeded as Lord Cailin by his son, Edwyn Stark. Moat Cailin is still being repaired as of the start of AGOT, with much progress having been made and much more being needed.

Benjen (Son of Artos) did not wish to live the rest of his life rebuilding a ruined stronghold, and after an argument with his father, left Moat Cailin for White Harbor, intent on leaving the North and Westeros behind him. He would instead find service in the household of Lord Manderly, eventually becoming a trusted advisor to the Lord of White Harbor and a skilled merchant (akin to the Arryns of Gulltown), and his descendants would have lands and wealth, but no castle. These descendants would also embrace the Faith of the Seven and forge closer ties to the Manderlys.

House Stark at the start of AGOT:

• Willam Stark, Lord of Winterfell - Lady Melantha Blackwood.
  • Edwyle Stark, Lord of Winterfell - Lady Marna Locke.
    • Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell - Lady Lysarra Stark.
      • Brandon Stark.
      • Eddard "Ned" Stark, Lord of Winterfell - Lady Catelyn Tully Stark.
        • Robb Stark.
        • Sansa Stark.
        • Arya Stark.
        • Brandon "Bran" Stark.
        • Rickon Stark.
      • Lyanna Stark.
      • Benjen Stark.
• Artos Stark, Lord Cailin - TBD.
  • Brandon Stark, Lord Cailin - TBD.
    • Edwyn Stark, Lord Cailin - Lady Bolton.
      • Jon Stark - Jeyne Stark.
        • Harlon Stark.
        • Alysanne Stark.
        • Brandon Stark.
      • Harlon Stark.
      • Cregan Stark.
        • Robert Snow.
    • Alaric Stark.
      • Rickon Stark.
  • Benjen Stark - TBD.
    • Ser Torrhen Stark - TBD.
      • Ser Brandon Stark - TBD.
        • Ser Duncan Stark - Lady Wynafryd Manderly.
        • Bethany Stark.
        • Ser Walton Stark.
        • Torrhen Stark.
      • Ser Edric Stark.
      • Jeyne Stark.

Edwyn Stark, also called “Cailin”, is the head of House Stark of Moat Cailin and Lord of Moat Cailin. He is now an old man and is regarded as the one of the North’s greatest living military commanders.

Edwyn was born and raised in Moat Cailin. He had one younger brother, Alaric, and both of them were taught the importance of the Moat by their father, Lord Brandon Stark. When he became a man grown, Edwyn divided his time between Moat Cailin and Winterfell, and formed a quick friendship with his cousin, Rickard Stark. Edwyn married a daughter of Lord Bolton, and together they had three sons: Jon, Harlon, and Cregan.

As Lord Cailin, Edwyn took his father’s teachings to heart and disagreed with Rickard’s ambitions south of the Neck, believing that the North had no need of “southron politics” and should look inward for its strength. He was unable to persuade Rickard from his ambitions, and so remained at Moat Cailin overseeing the reconstruction of the stronghold. When his sons were all men grown, Edwyn allowed them free rein of the North, but forbid them travel south of the Neck. His second son Harlon would break this rule, traveling with the party of his cousin Brandon Stark, Heir to Winterfell. King Aerys Targaryen had him executed alongside Brandon and Rickard Stark.

When Rickard’s son Eddard – now Lord of Winterfell – called his banners, Edwyn answered the call. He marched south with his two remaining sons, Jon and Cregan, and left command of Moat Cailin to his lady wife. His brother Alaric and nephew Rickon also marched with him. Edwyn commanded Eddard’s vanguard, advising his young lord on strategy. It was during Robert’s Rebellion that Edwyn was formally introduced to Ser Torrhen Stark, his cousin from White Harbor. They became fast friends, and when Torrhen died during the Battle of the Trident, Edwyn tasked his son Jon and Torrhen’s sons Brandon and Edric with delivering Torrhen’s bones back to White Harbor. Unable to reach them in time, Edwyn also watched as Alaric and Rickon were killed during the battle by Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, and he would forever hate the man because of this.

Grieving the loss of his brother, nephew, and cousin, Edwyn marched with Eddard and the northern army on King’s Landing, and they found that Lord Tywin Lannister’s forces had already sacked the city. Filled with hatred for anything Targaryen after the recent deaths of his kin and kith, Edwyn spat on the bodies of Princess Elia and her children when they were presented to Robert Baratheon at the base of the Iron Throne. He sided with the newly proclaimed king in the ensuing arguments, and when Eddard left King’s Landing to relieve the Siege of Storm’s End, Edwyn marched back to Moat Cailin with his forces, sending his son Cregan to accompany the Lord of Winterfell.

When Eddard and Cregan returned North with the bones of Lyanna Stark, Edwyn met them at the gates of Moat Cailin. There, the Lord of Winterfell and the Lord of Moat Cailin partially reconciled their differences, but they were unable to agree on what Northern interests south of the Neck should be. They parted ways on strained but cordial terms, and later, Edwyn escorted Lady Catelyn Stark and her infant son Robb Stark to Winterfell. He tried to ease tensions between the Lord and Lady of Winterfell by offering to take Jon Snow as his ward, but Eddard refused to even think on the offer, nor would he name his bastard’s mother.

Edwyn traveled to White Harbor for the wedding of his son Jon Stark to the daughter of his late friend Ser Torrhen Stark. Jon and Jeyne had fallen in love, and during the wedding Edwyn reunited with the sons of Torrhen, Brandon and Edric Stark, who had both fought in Robert’s Rebellion. On his return to Moat Cailin, he learned that his lady wife had died of a fever, and with her death went his smiles, for she had been one of the few joys in his life.

In the intervening years he became a grandfather four times over, with three trueborn children from Jon and Jeyne, and one bastard son from Cregan.

In 289 AC, Edwyn marched south with Eddard to help King Robert suppress the Greyjoy Rebellion. He again proved himself a capable warrior and commander during the rebellion. He counseled for the death of Theon Greyjoy, and disliked Eddard’s decision of keeping the boy as both hostage and ward.

After the Greyjoy Rebellion was crushed, Edwyn returned to Moat Cailin and continued to oversee the reconstruction of the ancient stronghold. When word of Jon Arryn’s death and King Robert’s march north reached Moat Cailin, Edwyn hosted the king for a time, and then joined the royal party on their way to Winterfell.

Jon Stark and Cregan Stark are the two surviving sons of Lord Edwyn Stark. Both men belong to the same generation as Ned, and while Jon has been long groomed for lordship and shares some of Ned’s honorable nature, Cregan has become cold and bitter since the death of their brother Harlon. They are both seasoned warriors, having fought in Robert’s Rebellion and the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Their relationship with Ned is cordial and mutually respectful, but not loving.

Harlon Stark, Alysanne Stark, and Brandon Stark are the children of Jon Stark and Jeyne Stark. They – along with Cregan’s bastard son Robert Snow – belong to the same generation as Ned’s children. They are known as the Starks of Moat Cailin, to differentiate themselves from the Starks of Winterfell and the Starks of White Harbor.

Harlon Stark takes much after his grandfather and has no desire to leave the North and Moat Cailin, wanting to see the ancient stronghold’s reconstruction complete during his lifetime. Alysanne Stark has proven to be a master archer and enjoys hunting more than anything else. Brandon Stark is not a martial man and finds his strength in mathematics and administration. Robert Snow is trained by his father to be a warrior.

Jeyne Stark, Ser Brandon Stark, and Ser Edric Stark are the children of Ser Torrhen Stark. They belong to the same generation as Ned. As the Starks of White Harbor, they follow the family’s mercantile tradition, building their family’s wealth through trade.

Jeyne Stark takes her skills as a merchant to Moat Cailin after she marries her cousin Jon Stark. Ser Brandon Stark – already a father of two sons and a daughter by the start of Robert’s Rebellion – returns to his family and takes up the responsibilities as head of the Starks of White Harbor. He names his third son in honor of his late father. Ser Edric Stark takes to the seas after his father’s death, finding solace in long trading missions, and currently resides in Braavos as he negotiates with the Sealord and the Iron Bank.

Their relationship with Ned is cordial and mutually respectful, but not loving.

Ser Duncan Stark, Bethany Stark, Ser Walton Stark, and Torrhen Stark are the children of Ser Brandon Stark. They belong to the same generation as Ned’s children, but Duncan, Bethany, and Walton are slightly older, while Torrhen is slightly younger than Robb and Jon Snow. They are known as the Starks of White Harbor, to differentiate themselves from the Starks of Winterfell and the Starks of Moat Cailin.

Per an agreement between Ser Torrhen Stark and Lord Wyman Manderly, Duncan Stark was betrothed to Wynafryd Manderly, and when the two came of age they were married. They prove a loving match, and Duncan works closely with Lord Wyman in the running of White Harbor, knowing that one day he will be its lord. Bethany Stark was betrothed to Domeric Bolton, but only met him once before he died of a stomach illness, and now she trains as a novice at the Starry Sept of Oldtown in the hopes of becoming a septa. Ser Walton Stark learns to be a merchant at his father’s side after earning his knighthood. Torrhen Stark squires for Ser Wendel Manderly.

The first time they all (excluding Ser Edric) gather in one place is when Robert and his royal retinue arrive at Winterfell.

Anything can happen after that.

Chapter Text

Let's borrow from Jon Arryn's "the seed is strong" and apply it to Aegon IV.

What if he had more Great Bastards, acknowledged or not?

• Lady Falena Stokeworth, Aegon’s first mistress. In 149 AC, she took the virginity of the fourteen-year-old prince. Their affair continued, until a knight of the Kingsguard found them together in bed in 151 AC. Prince Viserys then decided to marry Falena off to the master-at-arms at the Red Keep, Ser Lucas Lothston, and convinced his brother King Aegon III Targaryen to name Lothston as the new Lord of Harrenhal, thereby removing Falena from court. Prince Aegon, however, continued to frequently visit Harrenhal for two more years, and it has been suggested that even after that, his visits to Falena continued.

  • While Aegon did not acknowledge any of Falena's offspring as his own, it is rumored that at least one of Falena's children, daughter Jeyne Lothston (Aegon's eighth mistress), was Aegon's daughter.

• Megette, also known as Merry Meg, was found by Prince Aegon in 155 AC, when he was in need of a smith. Megette was married to the smith, and seven gold dragons and a threat of Ser Joffrey Staunton of the Kingsguard "persuaded" the man to let Aegon "buy" his wife. Megette was placed in a mansion in King's Landing, and "wed" Aegon in a secret ceremony by a mummer playing a septon. After four years in 158 AC, Prince Viserys returned Megette to her husband, who beat her to death within a year.

  • Megette gave birth to four daughters in four years: Alysanne, Lily, Willow, and Rosey.

• Lady Cassella Vaith was one of the hostages King Daeron I Targaryen had accepted at the Submission of Sunspear. It was Prince Aegon who escorted the hostages back to King's Landing. Eventually, the Dornishmen revolted, and killed Daeron, leading to Prince Viserys demanding Cassella returned to the other hostages, as he planned to execute them. Prince Aegon, who by then had grown bored of her, did not resist. Cassella, pregnant with the prince’s child, was returned to Dorne by the new king, Baelor I Targaryen, and would live a long life, consumed by the belief that she had been Aegon's one and true love, and that he would soon send for her and their son.

  • Cassella gave birth to a son: Aegon Sand, named as such in honor of the boy’s father. Known also as Aegon of Dorne, the Dornishman, and later the Spear of Dorne, he would later inherit his mother’s seat and rule as the Lord of the Red Dunes.

• Bellegere Otherys, the Black Pearl of Braavos, was the captain of the Widow Wind, whom Aegon met after having been sent as an envoy to Braavos in 161 AC. Their affair would continue for ten years.

  • Bellegere gave birth to three of Aegon’s children, two girls and a boy, all of questionable paternity: Bellenora, Narha, Balerion.

• Princess Daena Targaryen, known as Daena the Defiant, was never considered amongst Aegon’s mistresses. She escaped from the Maidenvault and became pregnant with a boy, though she would not say who the father was.

  • Daena named her son Daemon, and Aegon would acknowledge the boy as his son only twelve years after his birth, on the occasion of his knighting. Daemon would later be known as Daemon Blackfyre.

• Lady Barba Bracken was the daughter of Lord Bracken; she had been a companion to the Princesses Daena, Rhaena and Elaena in the Maidenvault. She caught Aegon's attention in 171 AC, when all were free to leave the Maidenvault again following King Baelor's death. When Aegon became king in 172 AC, Barba openly became his mistress, and her father became his Hand. She gave birth to a son that same year, two weeks before Queen Naerys gave birth to a daughter - a childbirth that nearly killed her. Hoping that Naerys would die, and he could make his daughter a queen, Lord Bracken spoke openly of wedding Barba to Aegon. When Naerys eventually recovered, Prince Daeron and Prince Aemon forced Aegon to send the Brackens away from court.

  • Barba gave birth to one son in 172 AC: Aegor Rivers, later in life known as Bittersteel.

• Lady Melissa Blackwood, also known as Missy, was a kind girl who befriended Queen Naerys and Princes Daeron and Aemon. She "reigned" for five years as Aegon's mistress, before being set aside.

  • During her five years as Aegon's mistress, Melissa gave birth to three children: Mya Rivers, Gwenys Rivers, and Brynden Rivers (b. 175 AC), who would later be known as Bloodraven.

• Princess Elaena Targaryen was never considered amongst Aegon’s mistresses, yet rumors claimed that she gave birth to one of the king’s sons, and that said son was passed off as the legitimate son of her then husband, Lord Ossifer Plumm.

  • The boy was named Viserys Plumm, and though he had the Targaryen look, it was assumed to have been inherited from his mother. Aegon IV never claimed the boy was his own, and Elaena always maintained that the boy’s father was Lord Ossifer.

• Lady Bethany Bracken, the younger sister of Lady Barba, had been trained by her sister and father to seduce Aegon and replace Melissa Blackwood. She caught Aegon's eye in 177 AC, when he came to visit his bastard son by Barba, and she was taken back to King's Landing. Aegon had grown fat by then, and Bethany did not feel comfortable with this relationship. She found comfort in the arms of Ser Terrence Toyne of the Kingsguard. The king discovered them in 178 AC, and he had Bethany (even after giving birth) and her father executed and Ser Terrence Toyne tortured to death.

  • Bethany gave birth to a son named Terrence; presumably named after her lover, Ser Terrance Toyne of the Kingsguard. The boy’s paternity was unquestionable due to his physical features matching those of the king, silver hair and purple eyes, much to Aegon’s annoyance.

• Lady Jeyne Lothston, the daughter of Lady Falena Stokeworth, Aegon's first mistress, and Lord Lucas Lothston (though some would claim Aegon himself was the father), was only fourteen years old when she was brought to court in 178 AC. She became Aegon's mistress, but not for long. Jeyne caught a pox from Aegon, which he had caught from a whore he had been seeing since Lady Bethany's death. Jeyne and her family were sent away from court quickly after this.

  • Jeyne gave birth to a son named Tristifer Rivers, later in life known as Tristifer of the Trident.

• Serenei of Lys, the last of Aegon’s mistresses, was brought to court by Aegon's newest Hand, Lord Jon Hightower. Serenei was said to be a sorceress, and she would die giving birth to the last of the king's acknowledged bastards.

  • Serenei had one daughter by Aegon: Shiera Seastar.

What would these OC Great Bastards be like? Below is how I've thought about it, sticking rather close to canon in some place and straying from it in others.

Ser Aegon Sand, also called Aegon of Dorne, the Dornishman, and later the Spear of Dorne, was the bastard son of King Aegon IV Targaryen by his third mistress, Lady Cassella Vaith, who named him after his royal father. As his mother was highborn, Aegon was counted among the Great Bastards. He was legitimized by King Aegon IV, and later recognized by Daeron II Targaryen as his mother’s heir and became the Lord of the Red Dunes and head of House Vaith after her death.

In 161 AC, Aegon was born in Yronwood, during the return of the Iron Throne’s Dornish hostages by King Baelor I Targaryen, his mother having become pregnant during the reign of King Daeron I Targaryen. As the bastard son of Prince Aegon Targaryen and his third mistress, Lady Cassella Vaith, Aegon was his father’s first highborn bastard, and the Hand of the King, Prince Viserys Targaryen, deemed him too valuable to simply return to Dorne with his mother, then a hostage of the Iron throne herself. King Baelor thought otherwise, and when Aegon was born strong and healthy, he proclaimed that the successful birth was a miracle.

Aegon, who bore his father’s purple eyes and silver hair, was presented to the Prince of Dorne upon Baelor’s arrival at Sunspear. There it was decided that, as part of the peace between the Iron Throne and Sunspear, Aegon would be a ward of the Prince of Dorne and be protected from any harm that may befall him because of his Targaryen blood. It was also agreed that Aegon would renounce any and all claim he might have to the Iron Throne, much to his mother Cassella’s protests.

Aegon was raised between Sunspear and Vaith, both as a ward of the Prince of Dorne and the sole grandson of the Lord of the Red Dunes. He was raised beside Prince Maron Martell and counted the future Prince of Dorne as one of his trusted friends. Groomed for lordship from a young age, and due to being a bastard son of a Targaryen prince, Aegon had few companions, and fewer friends. His mother, Cassella – deluded with the notion that she was Prince Aegon Targaryen’s one true love – instilled within Aegon the notion that his princely father would one day send for them. Aegon believed his mother at first, but by the time he reached his majority, he very much doubted her, and when he became a knight, he realized that she was not speaking from a place of reason.

He was not allowed to attend the wedding of his trueborn elder brother, Prince Daeron, and Princess Mariah Martell. Aegon tried to go on his own, and he made it as far as Yronwood before he was intercepted by Martell knights. It was there that Aegon met with Lord Yronwood once again, who had been present for his birth. Introduced to the Bloodroyal’s children, Aegon made fast friends with Ynys Yronwood, who was brash and outspoken in her youth.

From then on, Aegon visited Yronwood at least once a year, and when he became a man grown and a knight, he was more often than not seen in the company of Ynys Yronwood. When he was not visiting her, Aegon split his time between Sunspear and Vaith.

Aegon once dueled the Sword of the Morning and lost, admitting later that, “I would not have beaten him even with a blade of Valyrian steel and a lifetime of training.”

In 181 AC, Aegon married Lady Ynys Yronwood. The wedding was attended by lords and ladies from all across Dorne, as well as the Prince of Dragonstone. The brothers met for the first time during the celebrations. Aegon first viewed Daeron with cold suspicion, but soon warmed to him, partially due to the efforts of their wives and of Prince Maron. They spoke at length, and Aegon learned that their royal father had sired other highborn bastards. When offered to visit Dragonstone, Aegon refused his royal brother, and is believed to have said, “Your king does not care for Dorne, so why should I care for the Iron Throne?” The brothers parted on friendly terms, and Aegon turned his focus inward. He served as a counselor to his friend Prince Maron. Aegon and Ynys’ marriage proved happy, if somewhat turbulent, and produced five sons, with their eldest son being named Daeron.

Aegon learned that, on his deathbed, King Aegon IV Targaryen had legitimized all his bastards. Due to his noble mother, Aegon was now counted among the Great Bastards, but he would not meet any of them until the wedding of Prince Maron Martell and Princess Daenerys Targaryen in 187 AC. Being the eldest of the Great Bastards, Aegon was ambivalent of his half-siblings. Of them he saw Daemon Blackfyre as confident and charming, as well as self-assured and arrogant; Aegor Rivers as a skilled warrior, but perpetually angry and quick to be offended; Mya Rivers and Gwenys Rivers as courteous and ultimately harmless; Brynden Rivers as grim and petulant, as well as irrationally resentful of his half-brother Aegor; Terrence Rivers as judicious boy eager to please; Tristifer Rivers as loud and boisterous; Shiera Seastar as a precocious child with an affinity for languages and reading. Due to the differences in age, Aegon was not particularly close with any of his fellow Great Bastards.

Throughout the negotiations and the wedding, Aegon found King’s Landing and the Red Keep to be lacking. He refused King Daeron II’s offer of a seat on the small council and told him plainly that he disliked the city. When the agreement was finalized between the Iron Throne and Sunspear, and the princess was wedded and bedded, Aegon returned to Dorne with his family. Together, Aegon and Ynys raised their five sons: Daeron (B. 182), Gascoyne (B. 183), Nymor (B. 185), Yorick (B. 186), and Theodan (B. 189). They split their time between Sunspear, Vaith, and Yronwood, with increasing visits to Vaith when it became clear that Aegon’s mother, Cassella, was in no condition to take up the duties as head of the family from her ailing father. When Aegon’s grandfather passed in his sleep, Cassella was the Lady of the Red Dunes in name only, with Aegon and his household performing all necessary duties in maintaining the castle and its surrounding lands and smallfolk.

When the First Blackfyre Rebellion broke out in 196 AC, Aegon’s loyalty was put into question when his goodfather, Lord Yronwood, declared for the rebel Daemon Blackfyre. Ynys Yronwood, then a friend and companion of Princess Daenerys Targaryen, was shunned at court. Aegon sent her and their children to Vaith for their own safety. He then called his banners and raised a host of Vaith knights and men, and after asking for assistance from his childhood friend Maron, received a force of Martell knights to augment his host. All doubts of his loyalty were dispelled when Aegon marched on his goodfather, defeated his host in battle, and took the man prisoner.

After such a victory, Aegon was given command of all Dornish forces and spent most of the war stamping out rebellion in Dorne and fighting Blackfyre rebels in and around the Red Mountains. The eldest two of his sons, Daeron and Gascoyne, accompanied him as his squires, and fought with distinction in the many battles and skirmishes that followed. Aegon became known as “the Spear of Dorne” as word spread of his many victories. Near the end of the war, he encountered a wayward half-brother, Ser Terrence Rivers, who had become disillusioned with the Blackfyre cause. It was only at the intercession of Gascoyne that Aegon did not imprison Terrence. Instead, Aegon snapped some sense back into the young knight and sent him north with a contingent of Dornish horse, now fighting for House Targaryen.

Aegon met with the forces of Lord Leo Tyrell, one of Daeron’s most powerful supporters, and marched with them to an unnamed field where the royal and rebel armies had met. They did not arrive in time for the Battle of the Redgrass Field. As the royal army celebrated their victory and accounted for their wounded and their prisoners, Aegon walked among the Blackfyre dead and dying on the battlefield, and stopped when he encountered a familiar face lying in the grass. Ser Tristifer Rivers, known as Tristifer of the Trident due to his deeds in the rebellion, was grievously wounded, his right arm gone at the elbow, his legs crushed under the weight of his dead horse. Seeing young Yorick and Theodan in his face, Aegon called for a maester and knelt amidst the grass to save his half-brother. Among those who answered the call was another of the Great Bastards, Shiera Seastar, who – with tears running down her cheeks and heedless to the ruin the battlefield made of her dress – held onto the wounded knight and begged Aegon, Prince Baelor Targaryen, the middle aged maester, and the gods themselves to save Tristifer. The dead horse was lifted from Tristifer’s legs, and the knight was carried to the rear, just barely evading death.

In the days that followed, Aegon learned of what became of the rest of the Great Bastards, Daemon Blackfyre was slain on the field of battle alongside two of his sons; Ser Aegor Rivers, called Bittersteel, had fled with the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre and what remained of Daemon’s family and supporters; Ser Brynden Rivers, now known as Bloodraven, had killed Daemon with a volley of arrows, and was named kinslayer by many; Ser Terrence Rivers had added his force of horse to Prince Baelor’s host of Dornishmen spearmen and Stormlanders, fighting alongside them and surviving the battle; Ser Tristifer Rivers had fought for Daemon, winning victories in the Riverlands and the Crownlands before the defeat on the Redgrass Field, and now clung onto life in a tower cell; Shiera Seastar, loved by Bittersteel and Bloodraven, lover of Tristifer, sat at his bedside and refused to leave.

After the First Blackfyre Rebellion, Aegon again refused King Daeron II’s offer of a seat on the small council, telling his half-brother, “All I want now is to go home.” Before returning to Dorne to live a quiet life, Aegon spoke on behalf of his half-brother Tristifer Rivers, advocating for leniency, while Brynden Rivers wished for a hard line to be taken against all rebels. Daeron ultimately decided that losing one arm and the use of both legs was punishment enough for Tristifer, and the young knight spent the rest of his life tending to the Red Keep’s library, a ghost of his former self. Aegon and Brynden parted on bad terms, the former viewing the latter as bloodthirsty and needlessly ruthless, while the latter saw the former as too lenient and unwilling to do what must be done to secure Targaryen control.

A decade after the First Blackfyre Rebellion, Aegon met with the traveling hedge knight, Ser Duncan the Tall, and his young squire, Egg, when they visited Vaith. His son Ser Gascoyne Vaith, who had participated in the tourney at Ashford Meadow, recognized Duncan, and knew that Egg was in fact the son of Prince Maekar Targaryen. Aegon himself was not made privy to this secret, and after his mother Cassella was accidentally insulted by Duncan, sent both Ser Duncan and Egg on their way. When the Great Spring Sickness came and ran its course through Westeros, Aegon was able to avoid encountering the plague as he was in Dorne, one of two places where the plague had not come. He mourned the death of his trueborn brother and friend, King Daeron II, and did not attend the coronation of Daeron’s son Aerys.

Aegon did not fight in the Third Blackfyre Rebellion. Three of his sons, Ser Gascoyne, Ser Nymor, and Ser Theodan, went in his stead, and all three distinguished themselves in battle. The aged Aegon traveled with King Maekar I Targaryen during the Peake Uprising of 233 AC, and he personally took command of the royal army during the Storming of Starpike when Maekar fell in battle, though he did not take part in the fighting.

During the Great Council of 233 AC that followed King Maekar I’s death, Aegon voiced his support for Maekar’s youngest son Aegon to succeed him to the Iron Throne, and he agreed with King Aegon V’s decision to arrest Ser Brynden Rivers for the murder of Aenys Blackfyre. A year later, at the age of seventy-three, Aegon died in his sleep, two months after the death of his wife Ynys.

His son, Ser Daeron Vaith, succeeded him as Lord of the Red Dunes. Of his other sons, Ser Gascoyne Vaith never married, continuing to travel the Seven Kingdoms until his own death, fathering an unknown number of bastards; Ser Nymor Vaith joined the Kingsguard, serving as Lord Commander until his death; Yorick Vaith went to the Citadel and became a maester, being the last of Aegon’s sons to die; Ser Theodan Vaith served as the Red Keep’s master-at-arms, and he fought and died in the Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion.

And even later, during the reign of King Aerys II Targaryen, daughters of House Vaith were considered as potential brides for Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, for they still bore the purple eyes and silver-blond hair of their famous forefather, but they were ultimately deemed unworthy due to their Targaryen blood coming from the line of a bastard son.

Ser Terrence Rivers, known later by some as Terrence Turncloak, was the bastard son of King Aegon IV Targaryen by his seventh mistress, Lady Bethany Bracken. As his mother was highborn, Aegon was counted among the Great Bastards. He was legitimized by King Aegon IV in 184 AC. During the First Blackfyre Rebellion, he first fought for his half-brother Daemon Blackfyre, but switched his allegiance to King Daeron II Targaryen before the war’s end.

Much suspicion surrounded Terrence about who his true father was prior to his birth, for his mother, Lady Bethany Bracken, who had been the king’s mistress, was found abed with Ser Terrence Toyne of the Kingsguard. Many believed that Ser Terrence Toyne was the father, including Ser Terrence himself, but when Bethany Bracken gave birth in 178 AC, the baby had silver hair on his head, and when he opened his eyes, the color was bright purple. Ser Terrence was shattered upon hearing the news, and with the question of who the father was no longer in doubt, King Aegon IV had him dismembered piece by piece in front of Bethany. As an act of mercy, the king removed Bethany’s tongue and sent her to the silent sister, but only after she witnessed the execution of her father. The infant Terrence was sent back to Stone Hedge to be raised alongside his half-brother and half-cousin Aegor Rivers.

Terrence was partially raised by his aunt, the jealous Barba Bracken, as well as his cousin, the stern Lord Bracken. He grew up in the shadow of his older brother Aegor, revering and fearing him in turns. While Aegor reserved particular loathing for his half-brother Brynden Rivers, whose mother, Melissa Blackwood, had replaced his own as their father’s favorite mistress, Terrence did not hate his half-brother Tristifer Rivers, whose mother, Jeyne Lothston, had replaced his own as their father’s favorite mistress. Only a couple hours by horse separated Stone Hedge and Harrenhal, and Terrence made frequent trips to visit Tristifer at Harrenhal, while Tristifer did the same at Stone Hedge. The two half-brothers, born within the same year, became fast friends.

Terrence only met his father a handful of times, for the king only visited Stone Hedge to see Aegor and Barba. In 184 AC, at the age of six, Terrence learned that his father’s last decree was to legitimize all of his bastard children. It was at the coronation of King Daeron II Targaryen that Terrence saw the Red Keep for the first time, as well as met some of the other Great Bastards. Ser Daemon Blackfyre was the most prominent among them; he received his knighthood at two-and-ten and wielded the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre. Mya Rivers and Gwenys Rivers proved to be nothing like their younger brother, Brynden, who Terrence learned was an albino. Tristifer Rivers was loud and friendly. Shiera Seastar was a child in the care of a septa. During the coronation feast, Terrence heard tales of Ser Aegon Sand, the eldest of the Great Bastard. The royal court simply called him Aegon of Dorne.

Terrence met Ser Aegon during the wedding of Prince Maron Martell and Princess Daenerys Targaryen in 187 AC. Ser Aegon, seventeen years older than Terrence, was already a married man and a father. Terrene found Ser Aegon to be cold and distant.

By the time of the First Blackfyre Rebellion, Terrence had earned his knighthood alongside his half-brother and friend, Tristifer. At the outbreak of the rebellion, Terrence, pressured by his older brother Aegor, joined the Blackfyres. When word reached King Daeron II that Daemon meant to declare his claim for the Iron Throne within a month, the Kingsguard was sent to arrest Daemon, and Terrence became separated from Daemon during the chaos. He initially fought beside Tristifer in the Riverlands, but soon became separated, and with each successive battle found his way further and further south. Terrence, not as skilled as the likes of Daemon and Tristifer, soon became disillusioned with the Blackfyre cause because of all the death that surrounded him. Late into the rebellion, Terrence stumbled upon the host of his half-brother, Ser Aegon Sand, and was nearly taken as a prisoner. At the intercession of Aegon’s son, Gascoyne, Aegon instead snapped some sense into Terrence.

He switched his allegiance to House Targaryen, and, after being given a command of Dornish horse, rode north and soon encountered the host of Prince Baelor Targaryen. It was the Dornish knights that Terrence rode with that convinced Prince Baelor of his newfound loyalty. Others only saw Terrence as a turncloak. He marched with Prince Baelor’s army and fought alongside him during the Battle of the Redgrass Field, taking part in Baelor’s “hammer” as they smashed what remained of the Blackfyre host against Prince Maekar Targaryen’s “anvil” comprised of what remained of the Targaryen van.

After the battle was done, Terrence was reunited with his half-brother Tristifer, now known as Tristifer of the Trident. Terrence mourned his brother’s grievous injuries.

Terrence received a royal pardon from the king at the rebellion’s end, and in front of the royal court, swore allegiance to the Iron Throne and House Targaryen. From then on, he split his time between King’s Landing and Stone Hedge. He was counted among the few friends that remained of Ser Tristifer Rivers, who, now a cripple, spent the rest of his days tending the Red Keep’s library. Terrence never reconciled with his half-brother Brynden Rivers, who he saw as forever cursed for being a kinslayer.

In 209 AC, Terrence died in the Great Spring Sickness. His body was cremated on the orders of the Hand of the King, Ser Brynden Rivers.

Ser Tristifer Rivers, known later as Tristifer of the Trident and Tristifer the Cripple, was the bastard son of King Aegon IV Targaryen by his eighth mistress, Lady Jeyne Lothston. As his mother was highborn, Tristifer was counted among the Great Bastards. He was legitimized by King Aegon IV in 184 AC. During the First Blackfyre Rebellion, he first fought for his half-brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was crippled during the Battle of the Redgrass Field.

Late in the year 178 AC, Tristifer was born in King’s Landing as the bastard son of King Aegon IV Targaryen and his eighth mistress, Lady Jeyne Lothston, who had replaced the king’s seventh mistress, Lady Bethany Bracken. It was rumored that Jeyne Lothston herself had been fathered by the king during one of his visits to Harrenhal. The rumor entertained the royal court until Lady Jeyne and the rest of the Lothstons were sent back to Harrenhal shortly after the birth of Tristifer Rivers.

Tristifer grew up to be loud and boisterous. When he was not learning at his maester’s knee or in the training yard with Harrenhal’s master-at-arms, he was exploring the massive castle itself. The stories that claimed that the castle was haunted and cursed did not scare him. Tristifer, skilled with a sword and shield from a young age, practiced his swordplay by fighting his own shadow in the abandoned halls and passageways of Harrenhal.

He became fast friends with his half-brother, Terrence Rivers, who lived at Stone Hedge, a short distance away from Harrenhal by horse. He tried to make friends with Aegor Rivers, but the perpetually angry Aegor dismissed the notion. In 184 AC, Tristifer learned that his father’s last decree was to legitimize all of his bastard children. It was at the coronation of King Daeron II Targaryen that Tristifer saw the Red Keep for the first time, as well as met some of the other Great Bastards. Tristifer, always friendly and sociable, made quick friends with many in the royal court, as well as among his fellow Great Bastards. Daemon Blackfyre saw potential in his swordsmanship; Mya Rivers and Gwenys Rivers were nothing like their albino brother, Brynden Rivers, who was grim and hated anything to do with the Brackens; Terrence was eager to please, and the two of them shared many interests; Shiera was smarter than her age, and she took to escaping the watchful eye of her septa and following him around during the coronation. Many in King Daeron II’s court, including Queen Mariah Martell, noted that Tristifer and Shiera made a cute pair, and floated the idea that the two of them might marry one day.

As Tristifer grew up, he became a trusted friend of his half-brother Daemon Blackfyre, and the two routinely trained together with the Red Keep’s master-at-arms, Ser Quentyn Ball. During the wedding of Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Prince Maron Martell in 187 AC, Tristifer met the eldest of the Great Bastards, Ser Aegon Sand, as well as his family. In the years that followed, Tristifer earned his knighthood alongside his half-brother and friend, Terrence Rivers, as well as fell in love with his half-sister, Shiera Seastar, and won her affections. He earned the enmity of both Aegor Rivers and Brynden Rivers because of this.

Tristifer was caught by surprise when King Daeron II ordered the arrest of Daemon. He protested the king’s actions, and in the chaos of Daemon’s flight from the Red Keep, he decided to side with Daemon. Tristifer left the Red Keep with the help of Shiera Seastar, who knew her way around the winding tunnels underneath the castle. He escaped King’s Landing in the cover of darkness.

For most of the war, Tristifer fought in and around the Trident, and became known as “Tristifer of the Trident” after winning a series of small – but ultimately inconsequential – victories. His skill at arms made him feared by many in battle, but he lacked overall field command ability. His forces never numbered more than a thousand.

Tristifer was forced south when House Lothston betrayed the Blackfyre cause for House Targaryen. With the Riverlands lost, he fought his way to the main rebel army. Tristifer was reunited with Daemon Blackfyre. He came to an uneasy agreement with Ser Aegor Rivers and learned that his half-brother and friend, Ser Terrence Rivers, had disappeared somewhere near the Red Mountains. Tristifer added his meager force to Daemon’s host and marched with him to an unnamed field that would later be known as the Redgrass Field.

During the battle, Tristifer fought beside Daemon as they shattered the lines of Lord Donnel Arryn’s vanguard. Tristifer slew a score of knights and at least one member of the Kingsguard. He watched and was unable to prevent the deaths of Daemon and his twin sons by the arrows rained down on him by Ser Brynden Rivers and his archers, the Raven’s Teeth, from their position atop the Weeping Ridge. Tristifer joined Ser Aegor Rivers as he rallied what remained of Daemon’s host for a charge against Ser Brynden Rivers and his company of archers. When Prince Baelor Targaryen arrived with his host and crushed the Blackfyre host against Prince Maekar Targaryen’s shield wall, Tristifer lost his arm below his elbow to a blow from a Baratheon knight, and his legs were crushed by his falling horse soon after. He was thought dead by Ser Aegor Rivers, who fled with the sword Blackfyre and what remained of Daemon’s family and supporters after the battle was lost.

Tristifer was found by Ser Aegon Sand after the battle was over. With the help of Prince Baelor Targaryen, a middle aged maester, a tearful Shiera Seastar, and an unknown number of knights, the dead horse was lifted from Tristifer’s legs. Tristifer was carried to the rear and managed to survive his injuries. Many would later claim that Shiera Seastar – noted for having a mother who supposedly practiced dark arts and sorcery – used some of the same sorcery to keep Tristifer alive long enough for his wounds to heal. With or without the use of magic, Tristifer survived his wounds, but lost the use of his legs.

As a cripple, Tristifer saw no reason to live and contemplated suicide. He became a ghost of his former self. Only the persistent presence of Shiera stopped him from ending his own life. He received a royal pardon after swearing an oath of allegiance to the Iron Throne and House Targaryen in front of the royal court, though he did so sitting down, for he was unable to stand, let alone bend his knees. He did not blame his half-brother and friend, Ser Terrence Rivers, for switching his allegiance. He also remained forever grateful to Ser Aegon Sand for saving his life.

Tristifer found partial solace in tending the Red Keep’s library, for King Daeron II had decided that losing one arm and the use of both legs was punishment enough. Tristifer counted only Terrence and Shiera as his true friends. When Terrence died in the Great Spring Sickness, Tristifer mourned his death and personally attended the burning of his body. He remained cordial with King Aerys I Targaryen and Queen Aelinor Penrose, and he never forgave Brynden Rivers, seeing the man as cursed because of his kinslaying.

Though they never married, Tristifer and Shiera remained together until Tristifer died in his sleep in 220 AC. Shiera had his body cremated. She later visited Vaith and delivered a letter that Tristifer had written for the eldest of the Great Bastards.

Of course, this is only one interpretation.

Chapter Text

-x-

“Step aside, ser, or I shall have you arrested.”

-Prince Maegor Targaryen to Ser Jaime Lannister.

-x-

The day had begun cold and clear, with a howling wind that belied the coming spring that the white ravens from the Citadel foretold, and the Trident river crystal clear. It ended in smoke and blood, the smell of black powder and shit in the air, the waters of the Trident running red with the corpses of men and horse. Two armies had met here, with the rebel army holding one bank of the river, while the royal army had held the other. Only the rebel army stood now, with the royal army shattered, its remaining elements running back to King’s Landing.

Prince Rhaegar had led a suicidal cavalry charge after his infantry became bogged down trying to ford the river, and as Ned looked down at the prince’s corpse from his horse, he could not understand the thinking behind such a strategy. And as Ned looked around the shallow depths of the river, all he saw was the ruins that were wrought from it, the dead men and horse so numerous that they diverted the flow of the water, coloring it all red. Royal standards and those of Targaryen bannermen were strewn about, while what wounded remained, both rebel and royal, were slowly being dragged away and tended to.

It was almost too much to bear. Ned looked back down at the corpse of the prince for one last time, then signaled to his men to pull it from the water. Even for a man who had kidnapped and most assuredly raped his sister, honor dictated that his corpse be recovered, and his bones sent back to King’s Landing, and Ned Stark was not about to abandon his honor now. He saw the corpse back to dry land, and when it was in the sure hands of the army’s doctors, he went in search of Robert.

Ned found him in the command tent, shirtless with a skin of wine in his hand, sitting on a small wooden stool and having his wounds dressed by a surgeon and two nurses, with a tired Jon Arryn keeping him company. Never a man to sit still, Robert Baratheon blathered at them throughout the ordeal, sipping his wine, but when he saw Ned enter, he dismissed the men tending to his wounds despite their protests, and stood like he was not wounded at all. “Ned,” the Lord of Storm’s End said. “Tell Jon that he’s being overly cautious. I’ve had worse in the sparring yard when we were both boys!”

“You were hit twice by Targaryen sharpshooters,” said Jon. “Then you took wounds when you led a counter charge against Rhaegar, your horse was killed under you, and you nearly lost a hand. We aren’t in the Age of Heroes, Robert. You cannot expose yourself to such fire!”

“His infantry was already flagging from their forced march,” Robert groused. “They wouldn’t have been able to hit the broad side of a barn, never mind one man. And I was not about to let Rhaegar escape my grasp. I had to kill him myself, for what he did to Lyanna.”

Ned clenched his jaw as he kept quiet. He was sure that he hated Rhaegar as much as Robert did, but he also couldn’t ignore how Robert’s loud declarations of love for Lyanna went hand in hand with the whores that he kept in his bed even when they were on the march. In the quiet moments after a long day, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities between Robert and Rhaegar.

He was torn from his thoughts when Robert slammed a meaty fist down onto a field table so hard that it collapsed. “Fine! Ned can take the bulk of the army and race to King’s Landing while I sit on my arse with the baggage train and collect our wounded. Are you happy now, Jon?”

“I am,” their foster father said. “You are too important to the cause, Robert.” Then he turned to Ned, and Robert followed. “Ned, since your Northmen suffered the least number of casualties, it’s only right that you lead them to King’s Landing and besiege the city. And you’ll have to be quick about it, we’ve had word that Tywin Lannister is marching to King’s Landing with his own army.”

“Finally decided to stop hiding under Casterly Rock,” Robert grumbled.

“Lannister has declared for the king?” Ned asked. Everyone in the army had their own opinion on the silence coming from the Westerlands since the beginning of the war, Ned included.

 “We don’t know,” said Jon. “If he has, we can’t let him reach King’s Landing and regroup with the remnants of Rhaegar’s army. And if he hasn’t, we can’t let him be the one to take the city. Whoever holds King’s Landing will decide the fate of Westeros after this war is done, and I do not like the idea of Tywin Lannister being the one to dictate terms on our behalf.”

“As if the Mad King will even listen,” said Robert.

Ned nodded grimly. “I’ll speak with my generals and ready the men to march at first light.”

“Gods willing,” Jon said, “Aerys will see reason.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Find a weakness in the walls and take the city.”

-x-

“It’s obvious you were not at Summerhall.”

-General Caedmon Castleton to a soldier who mocked the Stormlanders.

-x-

Prince Maegor repeated himself, only this time his words were followed by the sound of bayonets being affixed to muskets, and the pale faced Ser Jaime Lannister, wearing the white raiment of the Kingsguard with his helmet in one hand while the other rested on the hilt of his sword, a hand’s distance away from his pistol, stepped aside.

As the grenadiers of the Royal Guard burst through the doors into the throne room, Maegor rested a hand on the young knight’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “You made the right decision,” he said, as the outrage of Aerys could be heard just beyond them. “Now go to the royal apartments. You will find Princess Elia and her children awaiting you in the company of Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys.”

“W-what of the king?”

“Aerys is no longer of sound mind,” Maegor said. “In order to keep the peace, he will be placed under guard for his own protection, and I will assume the duties of the crown as Prince Regent, until such a time arrives that he is of sound mind again.”

The meaning was not lost on the younger knight, and Maegor watched as he marched to Maegor’s Holdfast with the confidence that few saw through.

Within the throne room, Maegor found his grenadiers pulling Aerys from the steps of the Iron Throne as gently as possible, for they were under orders to do no harm to the king. Nevertheless, Aerys had cut himself in his struggle against them, and he still struggled as he was brought before Maegor and forced to his knees. The grenadiers of the Royal Guard were all the tallest and strongest men of the royal army, veterans of past wars, and Aerys possessed neither the strength of body nor mind to escape them.

“You traitor!” spat Aerys.

“No,” Maegor said. “If anyone is the traitor, it is you, cousin. We all mourn Rhaegar’s death. But to burn down the city to avenge him? To execute Lord Chelsted for refusing to carry out such an order? That I cannot allow.”

“I will have you burned for this!”

“If I am to burn, imagine what the rebels will do to you.” To the grenadiers, Maegor said, “Keep the king under guard. I want no harm to come to him, even from himself.”

-x-

“Pity that you chose not to die with honor, but to live as a traitor. My men are dead and dying, and I will soon be joining them. Pray we do not meet in the seventh hell, Selmy. Now send for Baratheon, and let me die like a soldier!”

-Colonel Edgerran Breakwater of the Royal Guard Foot Chasseurs to Ser Barristan Selmy.

-x-

“Your Grace? What is happening?”

“A coup, my dear. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Her son’s widow continued to fret, even if she did not do so with words. Rhaella grasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was all she could offer.

Beyond the walls of the castle-within-a-castle, she knew that Maegor’s plan was being set into motion, and that by sundown it would be complete. Aerys had never been one to inspire loyalty, not after Duskendale. Appointing Maegor to serve as General of the Royal Guard merely because he was a Targaryen might have been the last glimmer of reason in him. Before the news of Rhaegar’s death arrived. I lost what little my Aerys I had left. Her brother had been such an ambitious young king. Where had that young boy gone as the years went by?

The grenadiers at the doors stiffened slightly, and Rhaella watched as they hesitated – one dropping his hand to his pistol in his belt – before stepping to the side and allowing Ser Jaime Lannister to enter. The young knight was ashen faced, and not even the high and sweet voice of little Rhaenys could bring some color back to his cheeks. “Your Grace,” he said to Elia. “My Queen,” he said to Rhaella.

“Ser Jaime,” Rhaella returned. “I hope all is going well?”

“They are rounding up the royal court,” he said, falling into one of the couches. He didn’t seem to notice when Rhaenys took his helmet from his hands. “All of them.”

“And I’m sure those who vocally supported Aerys will find themselves in the dungeons, while those who quickly submit to the Prince Regent will find themselves comfortable in their apartments.”

Ser Jaime and Princess Elia both looked at her as if she were a stranger. Rhaella paid them no mind. They did not completely understand, and it was not their fault. She gave Viserys a small smile and sent him in the direction of young Rhaenys, then turned back to her gooddaughter and the young knight, both looking so concerned and scared.

“Do not look so surprised,” she told them. “My word may not be law, but it still commands respect to those that matter.”

“What will happen now?” Elia asked.

“Maegor will defend this city to the last man, and if the Gods are willing, he will find a way to make peace with the rebel lords before that has to come to pass.”

-x-

“I don’t care for the Iron Throne! I only fight for Lyanna!”

-Lord Robert Baratheon.

-x-

The black cells were dark and wet. Prince Maegor disliked the way it hung in the air, this putrid scent of piss and shit, and squelch of straw and refuse under his boots irritated him. The light from the lanterns and torches gave way to black walls and decrepit prisoners that Aerys had forgotten about. Maegor observed their sorry faces as he passed them, and informed one of the men to inquire as to just who was being kept down here.

Then they arrived at the cell, and the poor cuirassier tasked with manning the door pulled the key from his belt and unlocked the door. The screaming from within only grew louder when four inches of wood gave way.

“Your Grace,” said the soldiers within, while the prisoner struggled in his seat.

“Has he spoken yet?” Maegor asked.

“No, Your Grace.”

Maegor looked the prisoner up and down. Sitting there, bound to the chair, Varys lacked all of the mystery that he was so usually adorned with. The blood running down his face was red, and though he lacked the bits and pieces to be called a man, he still swore like one. His composure had not survived the licks of the whip and the breaking of a few bones.

“Do not be unreasonable,” Maegor told him. “I know you have the answers I am seeking, Spider. Make this easy and simply tell us. Where is Lyanna Stark? Where is Ser Gerold Hightower, Ser Oswell Whent, and Ser Arthur Dayne?”

“I… I don’t… know…”

Maegor frowned. “Then your dying will be long and ugly.” He signaled with his hand for the men to continue their sharp questioning of Varys.

-x-

“Heads up, men, those are musket rounds, not horse shit!”

-Colonel Aegon Goldwater of Princess Rhae’s Cuirassiers to his men during the Battle of the Trident.

-x-

“What is your name, young man?”

“Owen.”

“Surname?”

“What’s that?”

“The name of your family?”

“Don’t have one. I’m just Owen, but the lads call me bull ‘cause I’ve got a thick head.”

“Very well. Owen Bullhead. Any education?”

“My pa’s a cobbler. Mum’s a cook.”

“Alright. No education. You look big and strong enough, and you have most of your teeth. It’s the infantry for you. Report to Lieutenant Mallery at the Lion Gate. Next!”

-x-

“Many of you will never get the chance to fight with a sword like this. But if we breach those gates and there’s fighting in the streets of the King’s Landing, you’ll want more than a bayonet on the end of your musket. Now, watch and learn. This may very well save your life should your horse be killed from underneath you.”

-Ser Tygett Lannister, Regimental Sword Master.

-x-

“This is all that is left?”

Maegor walked the line of cavalrymen before him, Colonel Goldwater beside him. The men stood tall and unwavering under their gaze, but all the confidence in the world could not hide the poor state of their uniforms, the blood stains, the mud that caked their boots, the ragged state of their weaponry. Still, they stood tall like the men of Princess Rhae’s Cuirassiers should.

“It is. Rhaegar ordered a charge right into the rebel line, right into their cannons. Case shot tore through our ranks. By some miracle we survived where others did not.”

“The cuirassiers of the Royal Guard had been nearly a thousand strong when Aerys sent them to Rhaegar. Now only fifteen stand before me.” Maegor set his jaw as he sighed. “We lack both the time and experienced cavalrymen to rebuild the regiment.”

“Your orders?”

“You and your men will be folded into the ranks of Queen Myriah’s Dragoons. Gods willing, we won’t lose anymore men. But I doubt they’re listening.”

He shook the hand of every cuirassier who had survived the disaster that was the Battle of the Trident, pinned medals onto their chests, then sat with Colonel Goldwater to consult the list of the dead and what compensation would be given to their families.

-x-

“Runner! Send word to Prince Maegor. Tywin Lannister’s Army of the West is here.”

-Ser Manly Stokeworth, Commander of the City Watch of King’s Landing.

-x-

Chapter Text

Religion in Westeros is rather bland and more of a set dressing than actual part of the world. There is no depth to any of them other than the superficial appearances we see. This is partly to blame because GRRM is an atheist. So this is an attempt at changing that.

Since the Faith of the Seven is analogous to the Roman Catholic Church, I will be using it as a base with which to build up this AU. Specifically the schisms that the Catholic Church has gone through in its long history. With how long the Faith of the Seven has existed in Westeros across several different kingdoms, it should have broken up into separate distinct denominations. This ignores the fact that a “common tongue” across a continent as large as Westeros makes no sense.

The Drowned God is also not included in this, and the Old Gods barely have a structure so there isn’t much to change. There’s only so much variation in praying to heart trees.

This AU write-up also changes some titles and names for the sake of ease.

The Faith of the Seven is founded in Andalos. Hugor of the Hill is basically Jesus Christ, but where Jesus is the son of God, Hugor is the Father’s chosen on earth (as it’s said that the Father pulled seven stars down and forged them into a crown for Hugor) and because of this, the idea of divine right of kings stems from Hugor and is a purely Faith of the Seven concept.

The “Christ” in Jesus Christ was originally a title meaning “anointed” and transliterated into English as “messiah”, so Jesus Christ is “Jesus the Christ” which would mean “Jesus the Messiah”. Applying this to Hugor is difficult as “Hill” is used as a name for bastards in the Westerlands. So, “Hugor” itself will come to be a religious name, with the smallfolk in particular naming their sons after him, while “the Hill” in Hugor of the Hill is seen as the old Holy Land of the Faith in Essos (similar to Jerusalem).

Hugor himself is a near-mythical figure comparable to Garth Greenhand and last hero. Hugor is said to have had forty-four sons with his wife. While this number is absurd, it is taken as fact in the Seven-Pointed Star, and every major king post Coming of the Andals has claimed to be descendant from one of these sons, thus claiming divine right of kings.

When the Andals make landfall on the shores of the Fingers in the Vale, they come as a united force and religion. The Andals, having superior weaponry and convinced that Westeros is the promised kingdoms as mentioned in the Seven-Pointed Star, conquer the entire Vale and push the holdouts into hills. After that, the united force breaks down and the following wars happen over centuries. The Riverlands are next to fall, followed by the Stormlands, the Westerlands, and the Reach. Each region remains united with their respective kings soon converting to the Faith of the Seven.

Dorne is not taken as a unified kingdom but as a collection of petty kings.

The Iron Islands and the North aren’t taken at all.

The center of the Faith of the Seven was originally Gulltown in the Vale due to it being the only major city in the first kingdom the Andals had invaded. It is soon replaced by Oldtown as the center of the Faith due to Oldtown being the larger city and because of the construction of the Starry Sept by House Hightower.

This moving from Gulltown to Oldtown is the final straw that causes the Vale Schism. The Arryn Kings refuse to cede religious authority to the Gardener Kings and Vale Septons disagree with Reach Septons on interpretations of the Seven-Pointed Star. When a new High Septon declared Oldtown the Starry Sept as the new seat of the Faith, the Vale Septons at the urging of the Arryn King call him a heretic and claim him as a false High Septon. A Conclave of the Most Devout is held in Gulltown that elects a High Septon of its own, which just so happens to be the Arryn King. (A precedent is soon established that the High Septon of the Arryn Sept is always the Arryn King)

They establish the Arryn Sept.

A few religious wars are fought between the Reach and the Vale, but due to the distance between both kingdoms, most wars are fought in the Riverlands, with the Stormlands and the Westerlands often being dragged into the conflict, while North fights the Vale for territory and the Ironborn fight plunder and salt-wives. The Faith Militant is divided between the two faiths, with most of the Warrior’s Sons switching their loyalty to the Arryn Sept, while the Poor Fellows bark the Faith of the Seven. Ultimately the wars only cement the divide between the Faith of the Seven and the Arryn Sept.

For a couple hundred years the Faith of the Seven operates on this two rival denominations system. The Reach, Westerlands, Riverlands, Stormlands, and Dorne all follow the Faith of the Seven. The Vale follows the Arryn Sept. Both High Septons view the other as the junior partner in this system and claim themselves as the superior. Both faiths make use of the Most Devout as a system of electing the High Septon, but whereas in the Faith of the Seven the election can theoretically elect anyone as the next High Septon, in the Arryn Sept the election is more of a formality as by precedent the High Septon is always the Arryn King. The differences that both faiths have on doctrine start out small but quickly expand as the aims of both faiths differ, with the Arryn Sept centering authority around the king, while the Faith of the Seven focuses on adhering specifically to the Seven-Pointed Star.

The Faith of the Seven reestablishes their own Warrior’s Sons as several different knightly orders. Most of them are centered around the Reach, but others are formed in the Westerlands, the Stormlands, and Dorne. The Riverlands are too unstable for any one knightly order to have a permanent presence. When the Manderlys are exiled from the Reach and make their way to the North, they bring with them a branch of the Order of the Green Hand.

Over time, and following a series of plagues, the Faith of the Seven soon loses sight of its purpose and grows corrupt. Sept positions are often bought more than earned through merit. The Most Devout no longer elect High Septons based on religious merit but because of who can bribe the most. The Faith focuses more on growing its own wealth than actually helping the people. (Basically the lead up to the Protestant Reformation)

The War of the Four Kings and the breakup of the Faith of the Seven starts as a war between the Reach and the Westerlands over the succession of a single minor lordship that stands on the border between both realms. The High Septon (who was only High Septon because of Gardener bribes) sides with the Gardener King. The Lannister King proclaims that the High Septon has no authority in secular matters, and as the lordship in question is a secular seat, it does not fall under the preview of the Faith. In retaliation, the High Septon excommunicates the Lannister King and calls for all holy knightly orders to fight for the Gardener King.

The Lannister King declares the High Septon illegitimate and calls a Conclave of Septons to meet at Lannisport. There they elect a new High Septon that supports the Lannister King. He is named the Anti-High Septon by the High Septon in Oldtown.

The Durrandon King, seeing an opportunity to take some land from the Reach because of this war, ignores the High Septon’s call and threatens the knightly orders within his own kingdom with destruction should they answer it. This leads to a small civil war where the knightly orders of the Faith of the Seven are either destroyed by Durrandon forces or placed under the direct authority of Storm’s End. During this small conflict, religious fervor takes hold over the people of the Stormlands, and when the Durrandon King invades the Reach and is promptly excommunicated by the High Septon, the Durrandon King splits the Stormlands from the Faith of the Seven (think Henry VIII as Supreme Head of the Church of England, but more).

The Dornish, a few generations after being united by Nymeria, take advantage of the chaos and launch their own invasion of the Reach. The Prince of Dorne and the Dornish lords are disconnected from the rest of Westeros by the Red Mountains, with Rhoynish influences prevalent in their septs. This influence only grows as the war drags on.

Most of the knightly orders are destroyed during the course of the fighting, and when the Reach starts losing ground to the combined armies of the Westerlands, Stormlands, and Dorne, the Poor Fellows turn on the Gardener King and start to fight for the Anti-High Septon in Lannisport.

The Reach is forced into a humiliating peace treaty that further deteriorates the authority of the High Septon in Oldtown. The castle of the lordship that the Gardener and Lannister Kings had been fighting over is completely destroyed, and to many of the smallfolk on both sides the war was pointless, while the nobility are divided on the issue in both kingdoms. The Stormlands gain small territorial changes in the treaty, but more lasting is the fact that by the end of the fighting, the Durrandon King has completely split his kingdom from the Faith of the Seven.

He unilaterally establishes the First Faith. Since the Durrandons claim to have defied the will of the Storm God, they are first among men, thus their faith is the First Faith among faiths. He further claims to be descendant of the eldest of Hugor of the Hill’s sons, and since most of the Stormlords are somewhat related to the Durrandons, they too support this claim.

The Prince of Dorne wins no lands nor any considerable amount of gold, only a weakened Reach beset with enemies, which proves to be more valuable in the long term. Dornish raids into the Reach side of the Dornish Marches are often poorly opposed with Gardener attention focused on the Lannisters and Durrandons.

When the High Septon in Oldtown dies the Dornish only reluctantly recognize the new High Septon’s authority. The teachings of the Faith in Dorne continue to diverge from that of Oldtown to the point where the Dornish elect their own High Septon. They are forever known from that point as the Nymerians because of Nymeria’s Rhoynish customs. In the new faith, there is no distinction made between male and female. Just like how there can be a Ruling Princess of Dorne, there can be a High Septa.

The division between Oldtown and Lannisport would drag on for another two hundred years. A series of High Septons and Ani-High Septons are named by the Most Devout of Oldtown and Lannisport, with the Gardener Kings and Lannister Kings exercising growing influence on their respective High Septons. A few more wars are fought with varying degrees of success that are ultimately inconsequential. By the time the Lannisters establish the Golden Seven as a separate sept from the Faith of the Seven, the two faiths are radically different in doctrine.

Because the Lannisters are the wealthiest kings in Westeros, their faith denotes this quality at every level, both as a show of superiority of faith and of Lannister power. In the Golden Seven, every member of the faith is richly dressed, from the lowest begging brother to the High Septon. The Great Sept of Lannisport is built to rival the Starry Sept of Oldtown (with a lot more gold involved). Bread is freely given to the poor of Lannisport. The knightly orders are the best armed and trained. When the Doom of Valyria happens, the Golden Seven have more than enough gold to fund a crusade for Andalos, and while the Golden Crusade does little more than establish a coastal fortress north of Pentos, it is the only Faith of the Seven denomination to do so.

By the time Aegon’s Conquest begins, there are five different denominations of the Faith of the Seven. The Faith of the Seven (the Reach and White Harbor in the North), The First Faith (the Durrandon Stormlands), The Nymerians (Dorne), The Golden Seven (the Westerlands), and The Arryn Sept (the Vale of Arryn). There are five High Septons (or Septa for Dorne) with different religious doctrines and a number of knightly orders.

Aegon still goes on to conquer, but his new Westeros is very religiously disunited, and it almost boils over when Aegon declares the Faith of the Seven and the High Septon in Oldtown as the one true faith in Westeros. The other faiths buck against the reign of Aenys I, and are in open rebellion during Maegor I’s Wars. Jaehaerys I attempts to reconcile the various faiths under the authority of the Iron Throne, but the Doctrine of Exceptionalism flies in the face of five different religions, and it also spawns its own denomination, Exceptionalism. Only with dragons and the threat of total destruction do the Targaryens maintain their absolute hold on power, with the other denomination going underground due to persecution (a la Roman Empire). But after the Dance of the Dragons and the death of the Last Dragon during the reign of Aegon III, some power slides back into the hands of the various High Septons, and the Iron Throne is never again able to reach the height that Jaehaerys had. The Great Sept of Baelor is constructed in King’s Landing, and when the High Septon declares it the new center of the Faith, it causes a further split in the Faith of the Seven between Oldtown and King’s Landing.

The only time the different faiths come together is during Robert’s Rebellion. After the war, Robert and his small council end the persecution of the various faiths and allow for them to be freely practiced. This backfires most noticeably during the War of the Five Kings. Westeros is split not just on political lines, but also religious ones.

And while all this happens, the Starks and the North look south and shake their heads as they pray to the Old Gods, while the Ironborn continue to drown people for the Drowned God.

Stannis is the odd man out when he brings R’hllor into the picture.

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This remains as mainly a family tree.

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This family tree expands on the question of - What if there were more Stark cadet branches? - as explored in Chapter 2.

The basis of the AU remains basically the same:

Canonically, Artos Stark – brother of Lord Willam Stark – had two children with Lysara Karstark, the twins Brandon and Benjen. Brandon and Benjen were first cousins with Lord Edwyle Stark, and while they had children, it is uncertain if they have any living descendants as of AGOT. If they were to have had descendants, they would be not too far removed from the main line Starks during ASOIAF.

In this AU, Lord Willam Stark established the non-hereditary title of Master* Cailin, the commander of Moat Cailin (akin to the Knight of the Bloody Gate), and granted the position to his younger brother, Artos Stark. Tasked with maintaining a garrison and repairing the ancient stronghold from its ruined state, it was deemed a thankless task by most of the North, but Artos saw it as a great honor and dedicated the rest of his life to it, especially after Willam is killed by Raymen Redbeard.

The Lord of Moat Cailin is changed to Master of Moat Cailin as a masterly title is the closest thing that the North has to knightly titles, and since this AU derives the idea of Moat Cailin being similar to the Bloody Gate in the Vale, it would seem fitting that the two titles would be more closely aligned. It can also act as a way to show that the Master of Moat Cailin is not an equal to the Lord of Winterfell, but rather lower on the hierarchy, especially so since the position is non-hereditary and appointed only by the Lord of Winterfell.

Like Chapter 2, Brandon (Son of Artos) is named Master of Moat Cailin after his father dies, and his son Edwyn follows him in kind. By the time Rickard appointed Edwyn to the position, the title of Master of Moat Cailin has become all but hereditary, with everyone in the North expecting that all future Masters will be from the line of Artos Stark.

Also like Chapter 2, Benjen (Son of Artos) leaves Moat Cailin for White Harbor, but in this version of the AU he does so not after an argument, but rather at the behest of his father. It’s decided that funding the reconstruction of Moat Cailin will require more gold than House Stark can expect to generate from taxes alone, so Benjen is tasked with becoming a merchant and gathering the necessary gold through trade. The North has more natural resources than it can ever use by itself, and trade with the Free Cities is lucrative. The full support of the Starks of Winterfell and the Manderlys of White Harbor allow for Benjen and his descendants to rapidly expand a fleet of merchant vessels that has the potential for exponential growth, with a great portion of said wealth flowing to Moat Cailin to fund the reconstruction.

So, by the time ASOIAF starts in 297 AC, a clear system has developed between the three branches of House Stark, shaped like a triangle:

• House Stark of Winterfell is the center of political power in the North. It allows them to ensure that House Stark of White Harbor have what is essentially a monopoly. This is possible because House Stark is the dominant military force in the North through Moat Cailin, and no one can question it without facing the might of House Stark’s forces.
• House Stark of White Harbor is the center of financial power in the North. It allows them to generate so much gold through their politically enabled monopoly that they can fund the massively expensive building projects that the Moat requires. Complete political cover from Winterfell allows this and smooths over any issues that other houses might have.
• House Stark of Moat Cailin is the center of military power in the North. It is only through the gold from White Harbor that the Moat can be rebuilt at a steady pace. The Moat is also the natural line of defense against any southern invasion, and its refortification lends political and military prestige to the Starks, while also reinforcing House Stark’s hold of the North.

All three points of this triangle work together to support each other, and this works through the lordships of Edwyle Stark and Rickard Stark, but it starts to unravel when Ned unexpectedly becomes the Lord of Winterfell.

Ned and Edwyn essentially have no formal relationship by the start of Robert’s Rebellion since Ned was fostering in the Vale and Edwyn was living and working at Moat Cailin. When Ned calls the banners and marches to war with Robert, Edwyn answers the call and marches south to war with his family, and over the course of the war he loses his brother, his nephew, and a son. This turns Edwyn forever against the Targaryens because he blames them for the deaths of his family members, and when the Stark forces arrive in King’s Landing, Edwyn sees nothing wrong with Tywin’s actions of sacking the city and presenting the dead bodies of Elia and her children at the base of the Iron Throne. Relations between Ned and Edwyn are further strained when Ned refuses to demand any major concessions from the newly crowned King Robert after returning from the Tower of Joy. He sees it as a wasted opportunity and potentially a dereliction of duty.

Things remain cold between them years after the war, and Ned’s refusal to foster out any of his children is taken as an insult, and a show of how unprepared Ned actually is for his role as Lord of Winterfell.

Edwyn’s son Jon, and his wife Jeyne Stark of White Harbor, try to smooth things over between Winterfell and White Harbor, and some progress is made because Jeyne and Catelyn get along rather well for both women being Faith of the Seven worshipers, etc. Even more progress is made during the Greyjoy Rebellion when House Stark comes together to march south and fight.

But things get tense again after peace is made and celebrations are held in Lannisport. Edwyn is firmly against the idea of Ned taking Theon Greyjoy as a hostage. He privately believes that Ned will not take a hard enough stance and will treat the hostage as more of a ward. Ned is of the opinion that treating humbled enemies with further cruelty is not the proper or honorable way to rule.

Jon Stark and Stafford Lannister announce that Harlon Stark and Cerenna Lannister are to be betrothed and later married. The agreement had come after the two men had struck up a friendship during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Ned privately disagrees with the match, but he also sees the value that comes with it, including the large dowry that Cerenna brings to Moat Cailin. He is still reluctant to accept any Lannister influence into the North while the Sack of King’s Landing and the butchering of the Targaryen children looms in his mind.

Most of these issues are smoothed over in the end, with especial help from the Starks of White Harbor. In this AU, they are essentially equivalent to the Arryns of Gulltown, but while the Arryns of Gulltown are frowned upon and seen as uncouth, the Starks of White Harbor are an integral part of the North. They are the third point of the triangle.

By the time of ASOIAF, the largest gathering of House Stark and its cadet branches occurs when Robert comes north to name Ned as Hand of the King. Now things can go various different ways with so many new variables in the equation, but for the sake of the family tree, let’s assume that things go relatively the same as they do in canon. Ned and Catelyn get the secret letter from Lysa, Bran is pushed from the tower after catching Jaime and Cersei, and Ned becomes Hand in part to find out who/what really killed Jon Arryn.

Jon Snow doesn’t go to the Night’s Watch in this AU because there are two other places he can go, and with two major cadet branches of Starks existing his chances of inheriting Winterfell are basically nonexistent, which soothes that particular worry for Catelyn. He can either go to Moat Cailin or White Harbor, or stay in Winterfell.

When Robert dies, Ned is arrested, and the War of the Five Kings kicks off, a point of contention in the North is around Harlon Stark and Cerenna Lannister when Robb calls the banners. Harlon’s loyalties, and to a lesser degree the rest of Moat Cailin’s loyalties, are divided. Majority opinion in the North is that Ned was arrested and accused of treason under false pretenses, so they have to march south and free him, while also fighting against the Lannisters who are burning the Riverlands. But on the other hand, the Moat Cailin Starks are less than inclined to march to war against the Lannisters because some of the said Lannisters are immediate family members of Cerenna, who is a valued part of the family.

Questions are asked, insinuations are made, and everything nearly blows up before Robb’s host has even made it into the Riverlands. Things can go a number of different ways depending on what the plot demands, but let’s assume that cooler heads prevail and Robb manages to hold his host together. The majority of the Starks of Moat Cailin will remain at Moat Cailin, while select members from both of them as the Stark of White Harbor march with Robb south.

The presence of merchants to Robb’s host adds a new dynamic and perspective for Robb, providing him with good counsel in some areas but also highlighting how out of depth he is in others. When Ned is executed and Robb is proclaimed as King in the North, they are basically the only voice that counsels for pulling back to Moat Cailin and leaving the rest of Westeros to fight over the Iron Throne. This is seen as callous and treasonous by most of the Northern Lords as Sansa and Arya are still in Lannister hands, the Riverlands are their allies and retreating to Moat Cailin would mean abandoning them, and there would be no justice had for Ned.

But it is undeniably futile when Robb is named as King of the Trident as well. He does not have enough men to defend all of the Riverlands, especially since the Vale of Arryn has not come to aid him. The harsh reality is given to him by the White Harbor Starks, who see the world through the lens of numbers and figures, and the fact that Summer has ended and Winter is fast approaching. If Robb does still do as he does in canon and invades the Westerlands, he further alienates the Moat Cailin Starks when Stafford Lannister is killed at Oxcross, putting further tension on already strained relations.

Of course, with two major cadet branches present in this AU, it might be better to throw out canon and make something new. It’s certainly an idea to come back to.

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The Prince on Dragonstone was dying.

Aegon had been a boy when the maesters noticed that he felt no pain. The signs continued to show until it was clear to them that he had leprosy. Aegon’s father had been informed at once, and Prince Baelon Targaryen refused to believe that a cure could not be found. The Prince of Dragonstone and Hand of the King summoned foreign healers to attend his youngest son. Braavosi doctors answered the call, but they had no cure. Volantene physicians were sent, and they too had no cure for the prince. They all expected him to wither away only a scant few years after the maesters found the signs.

Fifteen years later the prince still clung to life. But his time on this earth is nearing the end, Queen Aemma Arryn reflected as she thought of her cousin’s latest letter. It had been written in a septon’s hand; Aegon was blinded by his illness two years ago.

The castellan of Dragonstone was waiting for her at the docks as the ship came into port. He was one of the boys who had squired with Aegon. Now he watched over the castle that his boyhood friend would die in.

“Your Grace,” said Ser Morgan Rambton, bowing his head.

“How is he?” Aemma asked after all the necessary pleasantries expected of a Queen were dispensed with.

“Ready to pass into the arms of the Father.” The castellan was grim-faced, sad, defeated. “He’s fought for as long as he can.”

That saddened Aemma. It had been her cousin and good-brother who had sent some of his Volantene physicians and Braavosi doctors to King’s Landing when he heard of her woes with bearing a child to term. The realm needs an heir and a spare, he had written. Small miracles were performed, as she saw it. Baelon had been born three years after Rhaenyra, on the hundredth anniversary of Aegon the Conqueror’s crowning, hale and healthy. Young Aegon had followed him two years after that.

Would her sons have been born at all if not for the foreign healers? Aemma didn’t know, and no amount of prayer helped her with the shame she felt whenever she thought about it. If not for Aegon’s illness, her sons might not have lived. She was almost grateful for that disease.

Did that make her a monster?

Castle Dragonstone was quiet and warm. Aemma had little familiarity with the place; Viserys had been Prince of Dragonstone for a scant two years—they had spent most of that in King’s Landing, and their visits to Aegon had been few and far between the years. Ser Morgan guided the way. Aemma followed. She had left all of her ladies back at the Red Keep.

They found the prince on the balcony outside his chambers, attended to by a septon who was reading to him and a handful of healers who were readying some medicines and potions. Reclined on the cushioned chair with his back to them, Aegon almost seemed at ease. The white silk and cloth covered him from head to toe. Hidden was the disfigurement that the leprosy caused him. The areas most previously afflicted were the face and hand, and there was nothing to be done but to cover them from view.

“My Prince,” the septon said softly, closing the book. “The Queen is here.”

“Aemma,” said Aegon, lifting a hand bound in soft bandages. “Apologies that I cannot stand to greet you.” His words were little more than whispers.

“You need not apologize.” Aemma took the seat beside her cousin that the septon had vacated. It was then that she was again able to see the silver mask that covered Aegon’s face. The detailing was intricate and of a master silversmith’s hand. The face that it showed was of a man that Aegon might have been had he not been cursed with such a disease. Discerning eyes, high cheekbones, a long nose, a hint of a mustache and beard on a strong jaw.

The holes for his eyes had been covered since the last time she saw him.

“How are the children?”

“They are all well.” Aemma smiled as she thought of them. “Rhaenyra still skirts her lessons as much as she can with the Lady Alicent. Baelon is precocious and ever curious of the world. And wherever Baelon goes, Aegon follows.”

“Good,” Aegon said. “Good. They’re good boys. Hopefully they grow up to be just as close as my father was with Aemon. The White Prince and the Spring Prince that the realm deserves.”

“Would that make me another Good Queen Alysanne?”

“Perhaps.” There was no way to see his smile, but Aemma thought she heard it in his voice. “Alas, there isn’t much for Viserys to conciliate. Mmm. I can hear you hesitate, sister. What is it?”

Aemma grimaced. “Lord Corlys is still insistent that the best match for Baelon would be with his daughter Laena.”

“It would be a beneficial match.”

“It would soothe his wounded pride, you mean. The Sea Snake still believes that there is a divide between our houses that needs to be bridged. A wrong in need of righting.”

“You don’t believe that there needs to be any appeasing to the Velaryons.”

“No, I don’t. I am of the mind to think that nothing will assuage his desire for more. He’s not the kind of man to rest on his laurels.”

“Then it would do well to announce a betrothal between Rhaenyra and Baelon. It’s a traditional match that no one will object to, at least not openly.”

Aemma sighed. “When Rhaenyra was born I told myself that I would let my children marry for love. All of them.”

“History is full of broken promises,” Aegon murmured, so quiet that Aemma almost didn’t hear him.

Behind them, the healers finished concocting their medicines and poured it into a small vial no larger than a thumb, and the septon brought it to Aegon’s side and whispered something into his ear. Then the septon departed with the doctors and physicians, and Aemma was left alone with Aegon.

“When I was ten I had a dream,” said Aegon. “It was so vidid and strange that I first thought that Daemon had slipped something into my dinner. But it wasn’t Daemon. The dreams kept coming and I thought I was going mad. Then I realized that I wasn’t dreaming at all. I was remembering.”

“Remembering?”

But Aegon ignored her question. “It was such a relief to know I wasn’t mad,” he said. “Yet it also made me question. What had I done in my past life that I deserved to be cursed with this disease in this one? It didn’t make sense.”

“It was pure chance,” Aemma said. “You were just … unlucky.”

“Snake eyes in the cosmic game of dice.” The faintest chuckle came from behind the silver mask with its frozen expression. “I struggled with it for the longest time, Aemma. Knowing that my life will end prematurely. That my body will slowly fall apart. I cursed all the gods. What kind of god would give me such knowledge, and no way to act upon it? Cruel ones, I’d thought.”

Aemma refrained from asking any questions.

“Now I think otherwise. Knowing isn’t the burden. Not acting upon it, that is the real burden. Who am I to play god?”

“Aegon—”

“Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys paid me a visit some weeks ago. They thought I would be of help in convincing Viserys to make the match between Baelon and Laena possible. Lord Corlys talked about the legacy that uniting the Velaryon and Targaryen bloodlines would leave us. I don’t think he actually knows what the word means.”

“Legacy?”

“He wants history to remember him as a great man. But in some sense, thinking about how the histories will be written is blinding him of the present, of the actions he is taking that the maesters will write about. Look at Maegor. Anyone with the briefest of educations can tell you that Maegor was a terrible king and his reign was filled with war and death. For Christ’s sake, he was a kinslayer. Yet for all that we remember him as ‘Maegor the Cruel’, we also know him as the man who saw the Red Keep finished. The wars and atrocities are quickly forgotten. Everyone who lived through them is dead now. But the Red Keep will still be here a hundred years from now.

“You might want to convey to Lord Corlys that the people will forget about a Velaryon queen within a generation. Most queens are so often forgotten.”

“Is that what you think I will be?” Aemma asked. “A footnote in some maester’s history?”

“If you’re to be a footnote, Aemma, then I will be an even smaller one. My greatest accomplishment will have been dying of leprosy.”

“Then what is this talk of legacy? You said you had something of great importance to tell me.”

“Great importance?” Aegon shrugged with his hand. “I lied. Honest to god, I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

Chapter Text

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This has always been an idea that’s intrigued me so I thought I might make a map for it and see how it looked.

The time period that the map is set in would be roughly 100 years after the Doom of Valyria—basically when Aegon the Conqueror starts his conquest. How the AU changes the Conquest is something that is left unanswered, but I would argue that Aegon wouldn’t carve out a Crownlands region like we have in canon but would simply assume the lands and titles that belong to House Gardener.

The Holy Andal Empire would be established after the Coming of the Andals and is not a completely unified force.

The Gardeners only directly control the Archduchy of Highgarden. The archduchy and the landlocked counties and dukedom compose the Kingdom of Great Andalia, which House Gardener rules as king. As the HAE expands eastward most of the conquests are incorporated into the Kingdom of Great Andalia as land ruled directly by House Gardener.

(Noble ranks below Count are not shown. Assume that there are hundreds of barons and landed knights)

The Kingdom of the Hightower is ruled by House Hightower and is considered one of the principal powers in the empire. They, along with every other part of the empire not directly under Gardener rule, have joined the empire in alliance rather than by force. A mutual defense pact exists—so if someone like the Westerlands or the Isles and the Rivers attacks one member of the empire, all other members are bound to answer the call of defense (thus few even think of attacking the empire). Minor border disputes due to contested inheritances within the empire still occur but for the most part it is peaceful. But none of them are obliged to assist in offensive wars, hence House Gardener expanded eastward mostly by itself and taking the lion’s share of the land.

In effect the title of emperor is pretty useless as each member of the empire has massive amounts of autonomy, pays very little in taxes, and are only required to provide armies in defensive wars. But the prestige it garners House Gardener—as well as how costly the wars to force the other parts of the empire into a single unified kingdom under one ruling House would be—are what keeps the empire existing.

The Kingdom of the Two Torentines, ruled by House Dayne, is the last vestige of imperial rule south of the Red Mountains. Before Nymeria and the Rhoynar’s arrival the amount of Dornish land the empire controlled fluctuated but generally amounted to about half of the total land. That is lessened to just the Kingdom of the Two Torentines after a series of wars following Nymeria’s landing. They are the only Dornishmen that remain loyal to the empire as they have basically been culturally assimilated into Reachmen (or Andals in the AU’s case).

The Dornish Princes don’t openly attack the Kingdom of the Two Torentines because they know it will mean war with the HAE, something they would lose.

The Stormlands—renamed Stormania—is basically what Hungary was to Great Andalia’s Austria. Stormania, whose borders were pushed back due to Gardener expansion, is now held in personal union with the Kingdom of Great Andalia, with House Gardener claiming King of the Storm as one of their titles. Stormania is not part of the HAE, has its own form of government and laws, and remains fiercely defiant in the face of future assimilation. The Stormans accept Gardener rule, but only begrudgingly and have been known to cause trouble at any change to the status quo.

The Duchy of Manderbury, and later Kingdom of the Blackwater, were established when the Gardeners revoked the lands and titles of House Manderly and sent them eastwards. The newly conquered lands they were sent to were seen as a backwater and in need of taming. Sending the Manderlys there solved two problems for the Gardeners, it got the Manderlys and the Peakes to stop fighting, and it gave the Gardeners someone reliable to establish Gardener control over the newly conquered lands. The Manderlys found the city of Manderbury basically where King’s Landing would be in canon and were eventually rewarded for their efforts with the creation of their own kingdom, the major vassals of Hayford, Rosby, and Stokeworth, and independence from direct Gardener rule.

The Manderlys also act as a nice counterbalance to the Hightowers, though the Hightowers are still the more powerful of the two.

The only parts of the canon Crownlands that aren’t part of the HAE are Dragonstone, Driftmark, and Claw Isle. Dragonstone was taken from the HAE as a western outpost—and no one in the empire wished to deal with dragons so they just gave up the land. Driftmark swore itself to Dragonstone and it was such an inconsequential island that no one in the HAE really cared. Claw Isle was similarly small and poor and of little consequence, so no one really bothered with invading it.

The HAE’s northern border is more or less set in place after a few meaningless wars were fought between House Gardener and the Lannisters and Hoares.

The Vale had little interest and the North was too far north to intervene in any useful manner.

Also, here is an earlier version of map for your viewing pleasure.

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There was ceremony, celebrations, a figurative clap on the back and an appreciative nod. Everything. But when he read the order sent to his data-pad, all appeared more backhanded than not. A bloated memo that buried the real message underneath four paragraphs of empty words and defunct titles.

CC-4477 Thire had been promoted to Marshal General of the Empire.

It was a rank that provided little power and varying prestige. The Moffs were technically of equal rank to him, the Chief of Defense outranked them, and he reported directly to the Emperor. Lord Vader, though he held no official military rank, most certainly outranked Thire. The Director of the Imperial Security Bureau should outrank him as well, but he had never found a definitive answer. Imperial regulations were muddy in that area.

Thire was simply a figurehead to appease some of the more stalwart former Republicans. An easy appointment as a way of showing the smooth transition from Galactic Republic to Galactic Empire. Clone Troopers had been bred to defend the Republic, so why shouldn’t one help lead the defense of the Empire?

Of course, one needed to only look beneath the surface to see how hollow that answer truly was. Thire certainly got a healthy eyeful. Most clones were aging out, retiring or being retired. Mounting injuries, rising costs, and the destruction of the Kaminoan cloning facilities all saw an end to the Clone Trooper Program. Plain old fashion speciesism too. War-Mantle and the succeeding Defense Recruitment Bill were ushering in a new era for the Imperial Military. Natural born volunteers were infinitely cheaper than their outgoing counterparts.

To that end, Thire had the distinguished honor of overseeing the transition, as much as it was the proverbial final nail in the coffin that was the Republic.

—] Meritorious [—

The Senate Rotunda was never a place that Thire felt at home—not during the days of the Republic and certainly not now. Then it had been a palace of opulent arrogance that went in hand with fastidiousness procedure and veiled corruption, and what remained now was but a shell of an institution. The final gasps of democracy in a galaxy thoroughly pacified.

Bills and amendments were still introduced, senators still debated them, and votes were still counted. But every piece of legislation was a foregone conclusion the moment it was introduced, the senators that still attended might as well be speaking to a permacrete wall, and the votes didn’t matter when the Emperor held so much power that the constitution was nothing more than a guideline.

Thire rarely attended meetings. The day to day business of the Senate was not his concern. But whenever major legislation concerning the military came up for review and debate, he was expected to make an appearance. It assuaged the citizens of the Empire to see the Marshal General put his rubber stamp of approval on whatever bill was being put forward, or so said his public relations team.

The whole process had become routine by the third go around, and Thire was on autopilot as he read his preprepared remarks to the Senate in the firm Mandalorian stoicism of Jango Fett. Commanding power and authority. Yet he had little of both, and he still felt naked without his armor and helmet, trussed up in dress greys, golden aiguillettes, shining medals, and an ostentatious red sash that went diagonally from shoulder to hip. “The Marshal General doesn’t wear armor because he leads from the rear,” his aides said, and their only concession was allowing him a DC-17 holstered at his hip.

But today was not routine.

Confirmation of Fox’s death had finally been received from under the mountain of contradictory reports and outright lies that came from the chaos of Operation Knightfall and its aftermath. Killed as a result of a friendly fire incident, and by Lord Vader no less. Thire had wanted to disbelieve the repots at first. But too many eyewitness accounts said the same thing, too many helmet recordings showed different angles of the same event.

So after the Senate meeting concluded, his piece said and rubber stamp firmly applied, Thire sought out the one person that needed to be informed of the Marshal Commander’s death. Clones didn’t have spouses, and for all they claimed to be brothers to one another, they were still a Kaminoan product at the end of the week, not citizens. Riyo Chuchi, however, was the closet thing that ever came to a girlfriend for Fox. In a better galaxy Thire might have been Fox’s best man.

Now he could only be the bearer of bad news.

The Pantoran pod was not far from his own; Thire made the distance in a handful of meaningful strides. His senatorial aides were dismissed, after-action reports could wait. His escort was clones all, veterans from the glory days of the Coruscant Guard, and they didn’t need to be told to create a veritable wall of plastoid and durasteel between him and the rest of the Senate.

The Senator from Pantora only needed one look at his face to know that the following conversation would only bring pain. She dismissed her own aides and escort, gestured for him to follow her into the pod. He followed. The noise of thousands was privacy enough.

“This is about Fox,” said Chuchi, a clench in her jaw.

“It is,” Thire confirmed. He forewent niceties and gave the facts as they were, cold and damning. There was no prettying up this death.

The senator wore grief well, shouldering it like a DC-15. Thire wasn’t privy to every detail of her relationship to Fox. He only knew its nature and the affections borne from close proximity that the two of them had shared. Pain weathered beneath the surface of the senator’s political mask.

It would be a scar on her heart that she would wear for the rest of her life.

Thire had been trained as a solider. He didn’t know how to fight tears. He offered his condolences, a handkerchief, and took his leave. No sooner had he stepped from the pod than his aides were upon him like massiffs dogging his heals with their data-pads and memos. He still had a series of meetings to attend, military inspections to oversee, documents to sign.

Then there were his unofficial duties …

—] Meritorious [—

The Military District had its inception at the start of the Clones Wars, and by its end it had swelled in size and complexity. Now it was double again in area and filled with unfamiliar faces wearing unfamiliar armor. The greys and blacks of the Army were now as common as the Phase II whites had been. The Stormtrooper Corps that had inherited the color scheme just wasn’t the same, for all that they were the successors of the Clone Trooper Corps.

But even three years in, the transition was still far from complete. The vast majority of Stormtroopers were clones, and half of them were still wearing the previous generation of kit. The regulars as the Army was now known as were still mustering out of training facilities, and they lacked a serious NCO corps. Natborns didn’t take too kindly being made subordinate to a clone sergeant. In a sense, they were raw as they came, and in a time when doctrinal changes were sweeping as they were controversial.

No longer was the enemy a singular solid force. Now they were a disparate bunch, each with their own tactics, weaponry, and terrain, each rebelling against the Empire. The one size fits all model of the Clone Wars wasn’t going to cut it, but the new age imperials weren’t making a good first showing.

And as Marshal General of the Empire, some of the blame fell in Thire’s lap.

He wasn’t one to dwell on his problems for long; he’d shoulder a blaster and assemble a team of door-kickers to hunt down the problem to the source. But he wasn’t in the Guard any longer, so he turned to those on Coruscant he could trust to get the job done.

“Bacara!” Thire called over the whine of the transport’s thrusters. No sooner had it touched permacrete did he exit without waiting for his escort and aides.

The Marshal Commander met Thire halfway, and after one crisp salute and nod, clasped hands. The niceties were effectively skirted as they made the walk towards headquarters.

“Umbara, sir?” Bacara popped his seals of his helmet and tucked under an arm, his tone leaving nothing on the table. “That hellhole chewed up the 501st and elements of the 7th, and that was back before the Jedi had turned traitor.”

“Those casualty numbers were skewed because of Krell,” said Thire. Every clone had read those after-action reports, damning as they were. “The Umbarans your boys will be facing have no logistical and material support from other rebellious planets. The war is officially over.”

“So they say. Seems like some of the seppies didn’t get the message.”

“The Army needs the win,” Thire emphasized. “Clones need the win.”

“Have no doubt that my marines will get the job done. Just don’t expect everything to be perfect. I have two brigades of shinies attached to my corps.”

“Clones?”

Bacara shook his head as they were ushered into headquarters. “Natborns.”

The meeting of the assembled officers that followed filled Thire with a sense of trepidation. The clones were all battle-hardened, veterans of over a dozen campaigns, and they were one of the few units left that had yet to remove the paint from their plastoid. The natborns stood separate from the clones, noticeably so, and though everyone looked to be the same age, the gulf of experience was wide enough to park a Venator in.

Thire’s war hadn’t involved blasting droids so much as it did kicking down doors and putting holes into terrorists. He didn’t lecture them about how to prosecute a war on the ground. He also didn’t give them the party line—Good soldiers follow orders was the mantra and prayer of the Clone Trooper Corps. But these men had seen enough brothers die to make any more bullshit a hard pill to swallow.

Plenty of good clones had already had enough and gone AWOL, or had eaten their own blaster.

“For the Empire,” Thire said, even if a small part of him felt wrong saying the updated words.

Hearing it returned by full chests and hard voices didn’t smooth it over.

—] Meritorious [—

The hour was late and a thin excuse for night had descended upon the city. 500 Imperia (formerly the Republica) stood as a monolith in the skyline of the Uppercity. Thire had an apartment suite that felt too large and grand for him to call a home. The bed was too soft. The food was too flavorful.

Thire slept on a Republican issue cot and ate the standard fare, but this night found him in the garage of the prestigious residential tower. Next to a little known maintenance corridor, outside of the sight of surveillance cameras. And even if the CSF managed to stumble upon the location, Thire had the trust of the Guard to keep clear any prying eyes, so much as that institution was being eroded of its clone infrastructure.

Winter was manning the door; his salute was crisp in the fashion that bordered on mocking. Old guard, greying at the edges, deep Corrie. “He’s waiting inside,” the sergeant said, and Thire thumped him on the shoulder with a quirked lip and a nod.

The room was nothing special. Table. Some chairs. Lighting. Poor excuse for ventilation. More of a closet than anything else. The captain sat at the table, hunched over in his drab cloak. He still wore some of his Phase II pieces, but going on three years since his ‘death’ and the lack of maintenance had taken its toll.

“Rex,” Thire said, sitting opposite the dead man.

“I hear Nova Corps is shipping out.”

“They are.”

“Umbara, Thire.”

“You’d rather they be sent to Mimban?”

Rex’s mouth twisted into something distasteful, and Thire chose to ignore it for the sake of their mutual goals. The business with ARC Trooper Fives was still a lingering bad taste in the captain’s mouth—never mind his heart, and even though Thire hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, he looked enough like Fox in his white and red to make everything contradictory.

Thire leaned forward and took out the data-chip. “Here. The latest group of brothers who want to join your merry band of would-be-revolutionaries in the Outer Rim.”

No sooner did the chip leave his hand than it was secreted away. “Try not to sound too contemptuous,” said Rex. “Might make me think that this is the republic you fought for.”

Thire only smirked, and made it especially ugly. “I know what I’m fighting for, captain. Do you?”

—] Meritorious [—

Meeting with the Council of Moffs was like watching a dick measuring contest in real time. Natborns all, these men had been cultivated from the ranks of the Republic’s flag officers sympathetic to the Imperial cause, and those few who were simply ambitious enough to eschew basic morals. More than a few of them were armchair generals and admirals who managed to show enough bravado for the new order. Most of them feared Lord Vader. All of them were ruthless to each other and near sycophantic towards the Emperor.

Thire kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward during these meetings, near-invisible to most in the room. Of course, his role in this show was mostly ceremonial.

Chapter Text

A completely crack AU map of the Braavosi Empire after they've used the Faceless Men to kill all the dragons (or maybe they cause the Doom to happen earlier).

Dark blue is territory under direct Braavosi control. Middle blue is claimed territory not directly controlled. Light blue is client states loyal to Braavos.

Chapter Text

An interpretation of what the Golden Empire of Yi Ti might look like if it had something similar to the tributary system that IRL China had. 

Purple being Yi Ti proper, under direct administration of the God-Emperor's government. Clay red being land/people part of the empire but not directly administered by the God-Emperor's government.

The map was made in GIMP.

Chapter Text

They appeared suddenly upon a dune, forty knights mounted on golden sand steeds, armored in enameled steel scales under the many folds of their sandsilk robes. Veils of silk covered their faces to keep the glare of the sun out of their eyes and the sand from their mouths. Scarves were wrapped around their helms to ward off the threat of sunstroke. Round shields were slung across their backs, longswords hung at their hips, spears were held in their hands, and their saddles carried bundles of short throwing spears or double-curved bows and quivers full of arrows. The standard bearer carried the Martell colors, red and orange flapping in the wind, the sun pierced by a spear on a shield of bronze prominent for all to see.

Yet as Mors Martell fell in beside the rest of the knights at the top of the dune, he saw that there were only three below to greet them, and each of them was armored in the heavy white plate of the Kingsguard with cloaks of white wool streaming from their shoulders. They alone guarded the Tower of Joy, a squat round thing of stone built upon a shelf of red rock, surrounded on all sides by the sands of the Infante’s Pass. It was on the northern edge of the Red Mountains, closer to Nightsong to the north than it was to Kingsgrave to the south.

But it was still Dornish land, and so all who tread upon the sands were answerable to Martell justice.

Mors watched the three knights of the Kingsguard below as his younger brother fell in beside him. “So, this is where they’ve been hiding,” Olyvar said, pulling down his veil to spit. “Traitors! Sitting here and protecting Rhaegar’s whore while Elia was raped and killed, Oberyn murdered, the children butchered! Give me the word, brother, and I will make their dying long and painful.”

The knights added their voices to Olyvar’s own, their anger mirrored by their steeds, the horses pounding at the sound and rearing their heads. 

“Justice will be had,” Mors told them. “But I will know by their own words why they are here.” The Kingsguard were sworn to defend the King with their lives, yet none of these three were in King’s Landing when the Lannister host sacked the city, stormed the Red Keep, butchered members of his family. Elia murdered. The children killed in their beds. But there is a small chance that Oberyn still lives. When word had arrived of the sack, Elia and her children were named, but there had been no mention of Oberyn. Mors had been the only one to notice, for Doran was stricken with indecision and grief, and Olyvar was blinded by rage.

Things had moved quickly after that. Olyvar contained his rage by beginning the process of raising another host of Dornish spears, Mors comforted his lady wife Ashara and their young son Vorian, and Doran let fly his ravens to all corners of Dorne. And during those agonizing days came a lone rider from Kingsgrave, bearing the location of the girl who had been the cause of all this suffering and death. 

They had set out within an hour of the messenger’s arrival.

And now they rode down the dune. The three knights of the Kingsguard watched as they came, and Mors saw no surprise in their faces. They were expecting someone to find them. Ser Arthur Dayne was closest to them, a sad smile on his lips and his helm in his hands. The hilt of his greatsword Dawn – forged from the metal of a falling star – poked from behind his shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent sat on the lip of a step, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Between them stood Ser Gerold Hightower, the old man renowned across the Seven Kingdoms as the White Bull, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

Mors reined up his horse in front of Ser Arthur and held up a closed fist, his brother and the rest of the knights stopping behind him. Then he opened his hand and signaled for them to dismount and fan out in a half circle around the tower and its defenders. The Sword of the Morning watched them, unmoving. “Tell me,” Mors called to him from his saddle. His horse snorted. “Tell me, Arthur Dayne, why you are here and not in the Red Keep, where you could have defended Elia and her children.”

“I swore an oath, Infante Mors,” Ser Arthur said. “And Rhaegar commanded me to remain here.”

“To defend the whore!” Olyvar shouted. He paced behind Mors like an animal, shield and spear in hand.

“You are Kingsguard, Dayne,” said Mors. “You are sworn to serve and protect the King. Last I remember, the man who sat the Iron Throne was named Aerys and not Rhaegar, but that no longer matters, does it?” He looked to Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower. “You three disgrace the noble order my uncle served. Lewyn Martell died on the Trident defending the realm, while you all sat here defending the one who is the cause of this bloodshed.”

Ser Arthur sighed. “You do not understand. We are needed here more than anywhere else.”

“Is that all you have to say?” When none of them answered, Mors leapt from his saddle and unslung his shield from his back. The anger within him welled up like boiling water. “Stand aside, sers.” Swords were barred, spears brandished, shields hefted. They were forty, facing three. “Put up your steel. The Stark girl is coming with us.”

“Rhaegar commanded us to keep watch over her,” Ser Oswell said.

“And now Rhaegar burns in Seventh Hell!” Olyvar snapped. “Move aside, Whent, or you will soon join him.”

“We cannot,” Ser Gerold said.

Mors drew his own blade. “Do not make me do this, Arthur,” he told his good-brother. “Do not make me return to Ashara with your bones. Think of the pain you will cause her.”

“I have no ill will towards you,” Ser Arthur answered. “But the Kingsguard does not simply stand aside.”

“You are all prepared to die for the Stark girl?” Mors looked between the three of them, aghast. “What is so special about this one that she is worth the lives of thousands?”

“The dragon must have three heads.”

“Brother,” Olyvar said. “Let us put an end to this farce.”

Mors looked to Arthur one final time and saw that the great knight would not yield to reason. Forgive me, Ashara. I’ve done all I can . “Strong sword!” he called.

“Strong shield!” yelled Olyvar.

“Strong sword!” Mors shouted.

“STRONG SHIELD!” returned the Dornish knights.

They were forty, facing three, and they met in a storm of swords and spears. Of the Kingsguard, their dying was quick and bloody. Ser Gerold Hightower fell to Dornish spears raining down upon him from all flanks. Ser Oswell Whent died fighting, taking two knights with him to the grave, a dozen spears piercing his flesh. Ser Arthur Dayne fought on, proving himself one of the realm’s greatest living swordsmen. He was surrounded on all sides and remained upright in a torrent of spears and blades. He swung his blade with deadly intent.

But he was hopelessly outnumbered. In the end, the greatsword Dawn was wretched from his grip, his face smashed in by a Dornish shield, Olyvar smashed his shield in his face, and the knights forced him to his knees bloodied and unarmed. Mors stood over him to deliver the killing blow, and he found that he could not. This was the brother of the woman he loved. Ashara had already lost Elia. She would be devastated to lose Arthur as well. “Clap him in irons,” Mors commanded. “We bring him back to Sunspear. Brother, search the tower.”

Olyvar threw his spear aside and drew his sword, then took ten men with him. The rest remained to tend their wounded, gather their dead, and to watch the prisoner. Arthur was stripped of his armor and sat at the base of the tower, shaded from the sun’s glare. It was a small mercy. Mors took Arthur’s scabbard and slung it across his own back, then gathered Dawn from where it lay in the sand, wet with Dornish blood. He wiped the blade clean and sheathed it. The Sword of the Morning watched him in silence. 

There was nothing left to say.

“My lord infante!” called one of Olyvar’s knights from the doorway. “You need to come at once.”

“Keep watch over Ser Arthur,” Mors ordered. “Ser Jesrien, you have command.”

Arthur caught his hand right before he entered the tower. “She's innocent,” he said. “Don’t do her any unjust harm. Please.”

Mors pulled his hand free. “She is as guilty as Rhaegar.”

At the top of the tower, Mors found a frightened wetnurse, Dornish knights watching over her, and his brother with his arms crossed and his face twisted in disdain. “The whore is pregnant with Rhaegar’s bastard,” Olyvar said, and Mors looked into the last room. It was a simple bedchamber, far from sparse, and the defiant girl he saw sitting on the mattress held her swollen stomach protectively. Lyanna Stark was a woman grown, but still looked half a child. All the beauty she had during the great tourney at Harrenhal was gone. She looked haggard, and the Dornish heat was doing her no good. “Does my brother speak true?” Mors asked her. “Is the bastard in your belly Rhaegar’s?”

“M-my daughter is not a bastard.” Her eyes found the hilt of Dawn over his shoulder, and a hint of a tremble touched her lips. “I went willingly. I wasn’t stolen. I married Rhaegar in front of a heart tree. Oswell and Arthur were witnesses, ask them and they’ll tell you true.”

“Whent is dead,” Olyvar said from where he loomed in the doorway, his face half hidden in shadow. “He burns in the Seventh Hell with Hightower and Rhaegar.”

“W-what?” She looked truly frightened then, all that Northern defiance gone in an instant.

“Did they not tell you?” Mors crossed his arms and clenched his jaw. “No, they couldn’t have, because they did not know either.” There was no maester here, and Lord Manwoody had said that none of his people had ventured into the Infante’s Pass since the start of the war. “Rhaegar marched on the Trident to meet the rebel lords, and Robert Baratheon killed him there with his warhammer. Then Tywin Lannister turned his cloak and sacked King’s Landing, and my kin paid that price in blood. My sister Elia was murdered, her children were butchered, and Oberyn, my baby brother is gone. What say you of that?”

“I …”

“She’s ignorant,” Olyvar snarled,  “and every breath she draws is an insult to Elia and all of Dorne.” He ripped his dagger from its sheath and stalked forward. “If she loved Rhaegar so much, she can join him in death.”

Mors grabbed his brother by the shoulder. “Brother. Wait–”

Olyvar threw away his hand. “I am done waiting! First Doran forbids us to march to war because Aerys has Elia and Oberyn as hostages. Then he’s stricken with grief and unable to act at hearing the news from King’s Landing. Now you want me to wait? No. The blood of Elia, her children, and Oberyn are on her hands as much as they are on Rhaegar and Aerys and Tywin fucking Lannister.”

“She will face Dornish justice!” Mors pushed his brother back. “But she will do so with all of Sunspear to witness. I will not have her murdered alone in this tower.”

Olyvar moved to refute him, but something caught his eye, and Mors turned to follow his gaze. “Riders approaching!” called one of the knights from below. Two Infantes of Dorne and a daughter of Winterfell moved to the tower’s windows. There, cresting a ridge, were seven riders. Mors first thought them riders from Nightsong, but the clothes they wore were wrong. Heavy cloth and leather, dark greys and blacks.

One of them had a direwolf on his surcoat, grey on white.

The Stark girl gasped. “Ned.”

Olyvar spat. “Robert Baratheon’s pet Stark, come to retrieve his whore sister.”

“He’s come too late,” Mors said. He called for the knights waiting without. “Lyanna Stark does not leave this room. Five of you will remain, the rest of you will follow. Come!”

At the base of the tower, the sands of the Infante’s Pass took flight in the wind, as seven men of the North looked down on them from the top of that distant ridge. Mors drew his veil across his face and fastened it to the temples of his helm. Others mirrored him. Two knights stood guard over the Sword of the Morning. More were ahorse with spears in hand. A score of knights brandished their swords and shields. 

“Robert Baratheon sits the Iron Throne,” Mors told his good-brother. “It is said he walked over the corpses of Elia and her children to climb it. They were wrapped in Lannister cloaks. And they say that it was Ser Jaime Lannister, your sworn brother, who killed Aerys. That boy is as much a traitor as you are.”

“It wasn’t supposed to come to this,” Arthur whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “Rhaegar did not want any of this.”

“What Rhaegar did and did not want is of no matter now.” Mors unslung his shield and fastened it to his left hand. “They’re all dead. But the war is not over. Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys have escaped to Dragonstone. Dorne will raise its banners in support of the true king, Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name.”

“The boy–”

Olyvar lashed out, a brutal backhand blow to the side of Arthur’s head. “Shut your mouth, Dayne. Your words mean nothing, just like your oaths.”

“Leave him be,” Mors said. “We have more dangerous traitors to deal with first.” He called for his horse and one of the knights brought it over. “Ser Jesrien! Hold this tower. Olyvar, with me!” He put his spurs to horseflesh and was off, his brother and their knights following.

Stark and his men knew that they were outnumbered, he saw. They were unprepared for the Dornish heat; their mounts were not suited for long distances in the desert. Sand steeds were bred to be slim and swift, going at a pace that would have other horses tiring before long. Soon enough they surrounded the Northmen, their spears outdistancing any Northern blade, their arrows swifter than their mounts.

“Lord Eddard,” Mors called, recognizing the youth’s long face and solemn appearance. The man was suffering under the sweltering heat.

“Prince Mors,” Stark returned. “Prince Olyvar. My men and I mean you no harm.”

Olyvar barked a laugh with no humor. “A liar,” he spat, “and an uncultured one as well. How typical of a Northern savage.”

That rankled the Northerners.

“No harm?” Mors said. “You are a traitor, Stark. A rebel lord who fights for a false king.”

“I am not here by Robert’s will. I am here for my sister.”

“Rhaegar’s whore?”

Stark and his Northmen reached for their swords, but Dornish spears were swifter, and soon they all found themselves with spear tips at their necks. “I know my sister,” said the young lord. “She is not a whore. Rhaegar kidnapped her.”

“Then you know nothing, Lord Stark,” said Mors. “I’ve had it from the fool girl herself. She went willingly.”

“You lie. My sister would do no such thing.”

“And yet she has.” Mors looked over his shoulder to the tower at his back. “Perhaps you can hear her voice in the wind? She is as loud as she is stupid.”

Indeed, the distant sounds of a girl’s voice floated in the air. Soft and desperate tones sapped away by the harsh Dornish wind. Stark’s grip of his reins tightened and his horse shifted, feeling his roiling emotions. The other six did not dare move, less they nick the skin of their necks on Dornish steel.

“We should kill them now and be done with it,” said Olyvar. 

Some of their knights made their agreements known. Many remained silent.

“I think not,” Mors declared. “Seven hostages will prove more useful than seven corpses. Nor will I rob the dukes and counts and barons of Dorne the pleasure of seeing such a noble lord and his men brought to their knees. Justice will be had. I swear it on Hugor and the Seven.”