CH 19: The Return

18th day of the 1st moon, 282 AC. King's Landing, Red Keep.

The lords of Westeros were badly shaken by the discovery that Varys the Spider and Grand Maester Pycelle were agents of yet another Blackfyre conspiracy, who thought that it would be easier to wrest the Iron Throne for themselves if it was not in Targaryen hands.

Of course, there was no Blackfyre conspiracy as far as Adrastia knew, but the prolonged drama between them and their Targaryen cousins made for a perfect plot device to throw dirt on Pycelle and Varys.

With that and travel times, it took over a month for everyone to get to King's Landing and then another week before they could agree to actually hold the Grand Council and who would sit at the table.

"I must, once again, protest." Mace Tyrell blustered. "A giant crow, even if it can speak, has no place discussing matters of state!"

Mostly agree, at any rate. The Lord Tyrell was still adjusting to certain new realities.

"Shut the fuck up, Lardarse." Havel snarled. "Velka is probably the smartest one here."

"You flatter me, Havel." The great crow said demurely while Mace sputtered indignantly at the insult.

"My lords and ladies, let us not resort to petty insults before we even begin." Rickard Stark interjected, shooting Havel a look.

The lord of the North knew that the ruler of Isengard had no compunction about using his size to intimidate people into compliance. Indeed, Lord Tyrell was notably braver now that he had a large and very heavy table between him and the huge Angmari.

The other participants wisely stayed out of it. The fact that Angmar had Havel, Velka and Luna representing them, as well as being supported by Rhaella in her role as the current Lady Targaryen, grated on them. That was, however, the unfortunate reality of things. Losers and non-participants didn't get to complain when the winners spoke.

Adrastia was conspicuously absent from the table. This event was a bit too high profile for her and the last thing she wanted was to be seen as a big player. Not to mention that she was busy forging letters of communication between Varys and the leadership of the Golden Company, among other things.

"Indeed, we have wasted enough time already." Prince Doran nodded. "The sooner the succession is decided, the sooner we can begin repairing the damage done by Aerys."

That he expected his newborn nephew to be declared king went without saying. No one could miss his satisfaction either, no matter how well he hid it. Dorne was one of the great winners of this war, without a single arrow being loosed.

"There is not much to decide on in that regard." Rickard declared with typical Northern bluntness. "Young Aegon is Rhaegar's heir."

"Do we really want another Targaryen on the throne?" Robert Baratheon asked. "They have a history of going crazy."

Yes, he was still grouchy over the fact that he'd missed the entire war.

"A child cannot be held accountable for the sins of his ancestors, Lord Baratheon." Velka admonished.

"My family's practice of incest has undoubtedly contributed to the occurrences of madness in our line." Rhaella spoke stoically. She was still grieving for the loss of her first child, but was powering through for the sake of her grandchildren. "Elia's blood in Aegon and Rhaenys should protect them."

"Indeed." Doran agreed.

"If incest is the issue, then they should not be wed to each other." Mace Tyrell jumped in.

"Of course." Rhaella nodded. "Rhaegar did have such plans, but I forbade him from them and would have asked Luna to intercede if he intended to push through with them in spite of that."

"Incest is icky, unless you're a veela." Luna agreed.

"What is a veela?" Hoster Tully asked, puzzled.

Luna opened her mouth to explain, only to be beaten to the punch by Velka.

"Not relevant." The giant crow said. "Then we are agreed that Aegon Targaryen will be crowned king once he comes of age?"

There was some grumbling, but everyone ended up agreeing.

"He will need a regent." Jon Arryn pointed out.

A pregnant silence ensued. They all realized that whoever was chosen as regent would effectively be king until young Aegon came of age, which would not happen for over a decade and a half.

"House Tyrell has served the crown loyally since the time of Aegon the Conqueror!" Mace Tyrell blundered in tactlessly, heedless of the naked ambition he was showing. "I would be honored to serve Rhaegar's heir as regent."

This naturally ignited immediate protest from everyone else. Aside from the fact that he had been on the losing side of the war, none of them regarded the Lord Tyrell with much favor.

Several minutes of fruitless arguing later, Rhaella asked Luna to get everyone's attention. The witch obliged by using one of Harry's favorite tactics, silencing everyone so suddenly that the shock of abrupt soundlessness was worse than if she had used a cannonblast charm.

"I nominate Rickard Stark for the position of regent." The former queen said, not bothering to scold the lords for almost getting into a shouting match with each other. "He is a dutiful and honorable man, and his heir is old enough to take up his duties as Lord Paramount in his absence."

The silencing spell lifted, but the gathered lords remained quiet. It was true that most of them did not have heirs ready to take over their duties if they took up the regency. More to the point, how were they supposed to argue against someone that was being endorsed by the current head of House Targaryen? And one backed by the might of Angmar at that?

This had actually been agreed upon beforehand so Rickard was not surprised by the nomination. He had already been considering taking the black to make room for Brandon in Winterfell when Rhaella and Luna had come to him with this proposition. Taking up the regency for young Prince Aegon would serve that same purpose, as well as allow him to continue serving the North in a different capacity. Plus, he really didn't trust any of these southrons to run the realm any more than they trusted him.

"I would be willing to serve if the realm has need of me." He said stoically.

"Lord Stark is a fine choice!" Robert Baratheon almost roared his approval. He had no particular desire for the throne himself and Rickard was to be his goodfather. For him, this was a perfect way to further ingratiate himself with the Starks.

Jon Arryn also threw in his support, followed quickly by Hoster Tully. Both of them would have liked the regency for themselves, the latter more than the former, but they could see where the wind was blowing and Rickard was a close ally of theirs.

Being well aware of the fairly close relationship House Stark had with Dol Guldur, Doran Martell also let go of his own ambitions and supported the choice.

Mace Tyrell was the only one that still tried to fight the inevitable, but his feeble protestations were quickly shut down.

Tywin Lannister tried very hard not to glower. Unlike Mace Tyrell, he knew perfectly well that he lacked the clout to make his own bid for the regency and that stung him something fierce. He had served as Hand of the King for twenty years and the realm had prospered under him despite Aerys' madness. By all rights, he should have been the ideal candidate, but the war had gone so strangely that he now found himself brushed to the side.

And he couldn't even make a bid to retake his position as Hand. Rhaegar's newborn son was technically Aegon VI Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, or soon would be. The regent was thus also the Hand by definition, as he ruled in the king's stead.

The Starks had jumped from being the second least powerful House Paramount in Westeros, ahead of only the Greyjoys, to being the most powerful. It was a maddeningly brilliant play in the game of thrones, made worse by the fact that he strongly suspected it was not what Rickard Stark intended in the first place.

"Then it is settled, Rickard Stark will act as regent for Prince Aegon until the boy comes of age." Velka declared, having slipped into the role of officiating the council without anyone noticing.

"Lovely!" Luna gave a beaming smile. "Let me just do something to commemorate this occasion…."

The articifial-bodied witch stood up from her seat and faced the Iron Throne. They were holding the council in the throne room both for the gravitas and out of deference to Velka, whose size made most indoor spaces too small for her.

With a small motion of her hands, the stained glass window behind the throne changed. It had been made to depict the seven-pointed star to show that the king ruled by the grace of the Seven. For the more cynical, it was a transparent ploy to quietly assert the authority of the Faith over the monarch.

Now Luna had gone and changed that bit of art to show a white three with red leaves. A weirwood.

The lords of the south were rendered speechless by the audacity of it. Some were more pious than others, but none of them could believe what the sorceress had just done.

"You dare…?!" Mace Tyrells sputtered angrily, being one of the more pious lords.

"My lady, you go too far!" Hoster Tully backed him up, also being rather pious himself.

"The Faith will never tolerate this." Jon Arryn was more concerned with the needless conflict it would create.

"What are you all so upset about?" Luna asked sweetly. "Rickard isn't a follower of the Seven, so this fits him better. I'll change it back once Aegon takes the throne, if he wants me to."

Luna was not prone to holding grudges or going on revenge crusades, but she certainly wasn't going to stop others from doing so, especially when it was against those that hurt her family. She knew that pretty much her entire family was determined to make the Seven regret acting against them and she didn't mind helping out a little.

She also knew that Aegon was unlikely to be terribly fond of the Seven after being fostered in Dol Guldur. Even if Harry didn't come back soon enough to foster him properly, Adrastia would pass on her own particular brand of cynically exploitative pragmatism when it came to religion.

The protesting lords froze. There was a familiar tension in the air, one they remembered from the days when Aerys was king and you dared not contradict him...

No, that wasn't quite right. This was more like when they had been children and done something to incur their parents' displeasure. It was a similar dread that closed up your throat and kept you silent, but with less mortal terror and more regret.

There was still some mortal terror, though.

"I approve." Rhaella added her own opinion. Her faith in the Seven had long been tarnished by resentment and she had abandoned it in favor the Old Gods within a month of her arrival in Dol Guldur. Poking the Great Sept in the eye like this felt like a well deserved bit of revenge for all her dead children.

Misdirected anger? Possibly, but she didn't care to examine it too closely.

Rickard was a bit surprised too, but he appreciated the gesture. The worst part of the regency for him had always been the prospect of being in a strange land with gods that weren't his own. Having a visible sign of the Old Gods present made him feel better about it, as was the promise Havel made him that his brothers would plant several weirwoods in the Kingswood.

"Let us move on to the next matter, Prince Aegon himself." Velka rushed to the next order of business. "He will need to be trained for his role so that the realm does not have another Aerys."

"Elia has expressed a wish to have him fostered in Dol Guldur, with Lady Luna and her husband." Doran spoke up, as they had planned.

Of course, more than half the table was perfectly aware of the fact that Harry was unavailable to do any fostering. It wasn't done for the sake of following Rhaegar's wishes either, as Rhaella had quickly deduced her son's true intentions with that little ploy. No, they were doing this to keep Aegon safe and far away from the cutthroat politics of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Impossible!" Tywin quickly snapped. "How is Prince Aegon meant to learn to rule the Seven Kingdoms if he is away from his own realm?"

"Harry was a king for a long time and he enjoys teaching." Luna piped up.

"Be that as it may, your husband never ruled the Seven Kingdoms." Tywin argued.

"Do not forget that I would be there as well." Rhaella pointed out. "I would not allow my grandson's education to be mishandled."

Tywin grit his teeth in frustration, knowing that he could not allow the young prince to be taken so far away.

"That's not even mentioning that it was your last king that started this shitstorm by killing my sons." Havel growled. "I'd rather see this one raised more sensibly."

The southern lords bristled at the poorly veiled insult and the most foolish of them was quick to fire back with the first thing that crossed his mind.

"They shouldn't have been in Harrenhal to begin with!" Mace Tyrell shouted.

"So it's my boys' fault that your king was a piece of shit?" Havel retorted dangerously.

Credit to Mace, he knew better than to provoke the demi-giant any further and quickly backpedalled. "Not at all, I am merely saying that you must have known King Aerys held scant favor for Angmar."

"We have strayed from the topic of our discussion." Velka cut in, bringing things back on track. "Who among you objects to having Prince Aegon fostered in Dol Guldur as per the wishes of his mother?"

"It does seem strange for the heir to the throne to be raised so far away from his seat." Jon Arryn admitted.

"Aye, it would be almost like sending him off to Essos." Hoster Tully added. "If it were merely a visit, that would be one thing, but a fostering?"

"A proper lord of the Seven Kingdoms would be a better choice for fostering him." Mace Tyrell weighed in, clearly talking about himself.

Tywin had already made his opinion known and merely nodded in agreement.

"Do your opinions really matter, though?" Luna asked, honestly puzzled. "I mean, Aegon is Elia's son and I would love to have them stay over as guests in Dol Guldur. We don't need your approval for any of that."

Havel snorted out a brief laugh at the affronted expressions on the faces of the four lords.

"It is not quite that simple, Luna." Rickard said, hiding his amusement.

"Yes it is." The witch contradicted. "As soon as this meeting is over I'm going to go fetch Elia and her children down in Dorne and bring them to Dol Guldur and you can't do anything about it, so there." She punctuated her statement by childishly poking her tongue out at them.

"Dorne finds this arrangement agreeable." Doran said calmly, an ever so slight trace of smugness leaking into his tone.

Oh, he had no illusions about using Elia's friendship with the sorceress for his kingdoms' benefit in any kind of direct manner, but it sure was nice to have connections and he knew that his nephew would be in good hands. Luna had gone so far as to promise that they would still be able to see Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon, meaning that House Martell had nothing to lose and everything to gain from this arrangement.

"As does the North." Rickard nodded along. Not only did he personally know a good part of Angmar's leadership, but he was also quite happy to bypass the politicking around the infant prince.

The rest of the realm's most powerful lords could only stare in mounting horror as they realized that they were being ignored. And worst of all, they couldn't do anything about it. Not only was their position already weak from how the war went, but they had no real leverage to negotiate with.

The only thing they could have conceivably done is make threats of war, poorly justified though it would be, but Even Mace Tyrell knew that to be foolish. They didn't have enough men nearby to win a fight against the combined forces of the Angmari, Northmen and Dornish and fighting later would be madness, as those were three of the most easily defensible lands on Westeros.

With this in mind, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully reluctantly fell into line, contenting themselves with the knowledge of their own close ties to House Stark as a means of staying close to the center of power.

Mace Tyrell and Tywin Lannister were far less sanguine about it.

"How can we be assured that Prince Aegon will have the best interests of the realm in mind if he is raised away from it?" The Old Lion argued.

"I told you already, Lord Lannister, I will not allow my grandson's education to be mishandled." Rhaella interjected firmly, impatience now tinting her tone.

Tywin had been hoping that she would stay quiet. This new Rhaella was much harder to deal with than the old one.

"Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but you have been away from the realm for many years now and are part of Angmar's court." He said politely.

"If Prince Aegon is to be fostered in Angmar then he must have a Tyrell bride!" Mace Tyrell blundered in before the former queen could reply, abandoning what little subtlety he had.

"Talk of marriage is premature." Rhaella shot him down tersely. "You do not even have a daughter as of yet, Lord Tyrell. However, I can assure you that Aegon will have a bride from the Seven Kingdoms."

She knew that such a marriage would be important for the stability of the realm and a Tyrell bride would indeed be a good choice politically. Only time would tell if it would be a good choice in general, however.

Certainly, she wasn't going to allow anything to happen between Aegon and Visenya, no matter what Rhaegar had intended.

"Perhaps we should take a short break and continue this once tempers have cooled?" Velka suggested, noticing how agitated people were getting.

"That sounds like a great idea!" Luna beamed.

XXXXX

With the Grand Council in recess, the real negotiations could take place. It was all well and good to sit at a table and decide on things, but everyone knew that the true deals were made during private backroom chats.

One such backroom chat was between Rickard Stark and Tywin Lannister. With the regency being given to the Lord of Winterfell, the Old Lion knew that he was the man to talk to if he wished to achieve his goals.

Said goals at the moment boiled down to getting his son out of the Kingsguard and finding his daughter a suitable husband, since it was clear that Cersei would not be marrying any princes or kings. There were limits even to Tywin's stubbornness on the matter.

"I understand your desire, Lord Lannister." Rickard nodded. "The Mad King raised your heir to the white not to honor him, but to spite you and to hold him hostage."

"Then you will release him from his oaths with his honor intact?" Tywin asked.

"Ser Jaime broke his oaths for the noblest of reasons and has more than proven his worth to lead the Kingsguard in the future, yet he still broke his oaths." Rickard qualified. "I will allow him to choose whether he wishes to leave the Kingsguard or reform it."

"Thank you, Lord Stark." Tywin was willing to express gratitude where it was due.

That Jaime was not being outright released from the Kingsguard was a minor issue. His son would not defy him.

XXXXX

Two days previously.

"I do not know what will become of me now." Jaime confessed, absently running his hand across his lover's side.

"Rickard will be offering you an honorable discharge from the Kingsguard." Adrastia casually revealed.

"Truly?" Jaime exclaimed in surprise. "How do you know this?"

"I have my ways." She replied smugly. "Are you going to accept?"

"I…do not know." He frowned. "The Kingsguard was not what I thought it would be, not under the Mad King, but I would prefer if Father gave lordship over the Westerlands to Tyrion. He is much better suited for it than I."

"From what you told me about your little brother, that is undeniably true." Adrastia hummed.

Jaime was not an idiot by any means, but he was smart in the manner of a warrior, not a statesman.

"But Father hates Tyrion." The young knight sighed heavily. "He would never make him his heir."

"He would have little choice in the matter if you refused to leave the Kingsguard." She pointed out. "Unless he is willing to wait for a grandson from either you or Cersei, then Tyrion would be his only option."

Jaime looked conflicted. "It seems underhanded to force my father's hand in this manner."

"It is for his own good." Adrastia soothed. "Tywin's unreasonable hatred is blinding him to Tyrion's potential. You told me yourself how determined he is to keep the Lannister name strong and respected. Sometimes we do not see our own shortcomings and it falls to our friends and family to act against our wishes so that we may prosper. He will be angry, but he will have what he truly wants."

Jaime was silent for a long time as he considered that.

Finally he spoke. "You speak truly. I will stay in the Kingsguard and bring honor to my family with my sword as Lord Commander, while Tyrion uplifts it as Lord of Casterly Rock with his mind."

"If you think it is best." Adrastia demurred.

"It is." He confirmed, squeezing her for emphasis. "What would I do without your wise counsel?"

"You would spend less time practicing your thrust, no doubt." She teased, reaching over to grab his 'sword'.

As Jaime was once again distracted by his teenage libido, Adrastia grinned to herself.

Her current boytoy didn't know that Tywin was planning to send Tyrion off to Dol Guldur as a means of getting rid of him, which would give her access to the dwarf. With the right approach, she would have influence over both the future Lord of the Westerlands and the Kingsguard through the Lannister brothers.

Sometimes, things played out so perfectly that it was almost unfair.

XXXXX

It took nearly two months of talking, arguing, bargaining, blustering, asking nicely, wheeling and dealing and other such verbs before everything was settled. Most of that fell onto Rickard to deal with, as Luna operated on entirely different rules and wasn't budging in the slightest.

Frankly, the only reason that another war didn't erupt was because the Lords Paramount knew that the Seven Kingdoms would rip at the seams if it did.

The North was blatantly determined to side with Angmar, not only because they had already fought on the same side, but also because they had much more to gain from that association than from one with the Iron Throne if push came to shove. To say nothing of their shared First Men culture.

Dorne was making out like a bandit from the whole thing and didn't have to so much as lift a finger. Prince Doran could afford to be smug as he backed Angmar's wishes.

The Stormlands under Robert Baratheon might as well be an extension of the Stark's influence. With Robert's disinterest in actually ruling and his infatuation with all things Stark, he was more than happy to back his future goodfather to the hilt.

That left half the realm that was unhappy with the state of affairs, some more than others. Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully were dissatisfied by how lopsided the end result was, but grudgingly accepted it once it became clear that Luna wasn't going to budge and couldn't be bargained with. Pressing the issue would be too costly.

Mace Tyrell was pouting. His lip did not stick out and nobody would call him out on it, but that was the only description that fit. Rhaella had placated him with an assurance that his family would be a top contender for a royal marriage, but he knew that he had gained nothing of substance.

To be fair, he hadn't lost anything of substance either, which was essentially the way things had been for House Tyrell ever since Aegon the Conqueror uplifted them from mere stewards into a House Paramount.

Tywin Lannister, on the other hand…..he was in a state of such perpetual rage that Luna had worriedly commented on his blood pressure, which did not help his mood at all since he felt that she was mocking him.

His son had refused to leave the Kingsguard, which set off a domino effect of problems for him.

If Jaime did not leave the Kingsguard, then he could not resume his betrothal to Lysa Tully as he and Lord Tully had discussed. Not only did this insult the Lord of the Riverlands, but it also meant that the Lannisters would not have any familial link, however distant, to the winners of the war.

To make up for that unintentional insult, he had to offer Cersei as a bride for Edmure Tully. Not a bad match since a royal marriage was now out of the question for her, but it robbed him of an opportunity to offer his daughter to either Eddard Stark, Denys Arryn or Willas Tyrell.

All because Jaime had some ridiculous notion about 'bringing honor to the family by raising the Kingsguard to new heights'. Where did the fool boy get these ideas?

To say nothing of his insistence that the dwarf would make a better lord than he ever could. Madness, and it caused him to almost bodily hurl Tyrion in Luna's direction when she came to pick him up at Casterly Rock a few months down the line.

The only bright spot in that debacle was that Tyrion would be in close proximity to Aegon and Rhaenys. It burned him to rely on the dwarf for anything, but Tywin still gave his deformed son strict instructions to ingratiate himself with the royal children by any means necessary. He honestly wasn't expecting much and even feared that Tyrion would be a disgrace to the family name, but the opportunity had to be taken.

Despite these problems and the ongoing paranoia about the Blackfyres that Adrastia was creating, the following years passed peacefully.

Rickard ruled far more sensibly than most kings in the past three hundred years, although he remained a bit of a penny pincher. Even with the economic boost of the North's expanding glass trade, he wasn't used to having this much gold at his disposal and was overly cautious with it.

The only serious blowout he had was when the High Septon heard about the alteration to the stained glass window behind the Iron Throne. That actually took an embarrassingly long time to happen, as most people who saw it were so used to seeing the seven-pointed star there that their eyes simply slid over it.

There was a lot of shouting involved in that incident and a medium scale riot, then the High Septon was arrested for sedition and executed. His successor was a meek, spineless man that may or may not have been pushed forward by Adrastia. There were accusations of religious discrimination, but those were false. Rickard simply didn't care about the Seven, which looked like discrimination to those used to being treated preferentially.

The Black Widow herself deliberately faded from public view. Putting herself forward as Harry's representative while Angmar's visible influence had only reached the Wall and a little bit below it was one thing, but now it was better to stay unseen.

She was quick to absorb Varys' web of child spies after extracting knowledge of it from the eunuch's mind. Then she arranged for a prospective spymaster to be brought to Rickard's attention, the man already firmly in her thrall by the time that happened. Lastly, she busied herself by buying up brothels all over the Seven Kingdoms and even in Essos and then personally training the smarter whores to be her agents, knowing better than anyone how much information men tended to let slip after sex.

This growing shadow empire of hers had a lot more influence than the clueless lords of Westeros realized, but it did unfortunately cut quite severely into the time she could devote to getting her hooks into Rhaenys, Aegon and Tyrion.

Not that there was much need for that with how Luna doted on them. Elia had been saddened by the loss of her husband, even if he hadn't loved her the way she had loved him, and Luna decided to help in typical Luna fashion. It was less than three months after moving into Dol Guldur that the Dornish princess gave up on having a separate room and moved in with her and Rhaella. The children ended up treating Luna almost like a second mother.

Oberyn was envious, impressed and approving. A feeling that he could express frequently because Luna had set up a mirror portal to Sunspear so that the Martells wouldn't be separated from each other.

Tyrion wasn't spared Luna's mothering either. The seven foot witch was quick to see how desperate for affection the clever, dwarfism-afflicted boy was and pretty much adopted him, promising that Harry would like him just as much as she did.

If Harry had been there, he might have put the breaks on his wife's habit of taking in strays. In fact, if he was there then Luna would have felt less lonely and not latched on to everyone and everything that needed a hug.

And she was lonely. He had been gone for so long already! Sure, she could still talk to Harry from time to time, but it wasn't the same. Worse, she knew that he was losing himself. The worry that he wouldn't even be her Harry anymore when he came back spurred her to doing just about anything that might bring him back sooner. At first that meant helping along his war against R'hllor by manufacturing various 'miracles', but seven years after the end of the war it progressed into creating incentives for him to come back faster…..

XXXXX

8th day of the 4th moon, 289 AC. Dorne, Sunspear.

"Incredible…." Thirteen-year-old Arianne Martell panted, naked skin gleaming with sweat. "Is this what they call 'the joy of a woman'?"

Luna giggled, squeezing the rather tiny young girl into her breasts. "It's part of it."

Puberty had hit Arianne like a meteor, rapidly transforming the formerly pudgy girl into a beautiful teenager. She was very short and likely always would be. In fact, Luna would be surprised if she got much bigger than her current five feet. Her mother, Mellario, had also been rather small. However, her young body was already showing signs of becoming very voluptuous with large breasts and wide hips. Her sex drive was also quite impressive.

Almost as soon as the hormones kicked in, Arianne had started hungrily eyeballing every cute boy in the vicinity. Then she started practicing kissing with her slightly older cousin, Tyene. The two curious girls hadn't taken long after that to come to their 'Auntie Luna' with questions, questions which she was happy to answer.

Always a helpful person and not wanting the two of them to rush blindly into anything, Luna asked if they wanted to have practice sex. The two had practically jumped at the offer, electing to take turns with the witch a couple of times before trying for a threeway.

"I cannot wait to experience what it will be like with a man." Arianne gushed, happily clamping down on a nipple and suckling, groaning in delight at the stream of thick, sweet milk flowed into her mouth.

Luna's sighed and closed her eyes as the familiar soup of happy hormones flooded her brain at the act of breastfeeding, but there was one thought that stayed with her.

During the actual sex, Arianne had displayed submissive tendencies and found Luna's large size and physical strength specifically attractive, which matched with her fantasies about being taken by force by some mysterious robber knight when they had discussed them during girl talk. It wasn't merely the common female preference for a strong partner, but a genuine submission kink.

Exactly the kind of girl Harry liked. Old age had recently taken Hala, Sigrid, Oak and Ava, one after the other. Maybe he would come back faster if he knew that he had a pretty, young and kinky girl waiting for him?

Being the impulsive sort, she went for the idea even though it had just occurred to her.

"Hey, Ari." Luna began, pulling the girl off her nipple. "How would you like to be ours? Mine and Harry's."

Arianne stared at her wide-eyed, reflexively licking up a leftover drop of milk. "Yours? Are you asking for my hand in marriage?"

"In a way." Luna shrugged, very deliberately rolling on top of the much smaller girl and seizing her wrists. She might not be Adrastia, but you didn't become centuries old without learning a few things about manipulating people. "Relationships are very personal things in Angmar. We could call it whatever we want, but you would be ours and we would be yours."

Arianne had a flustered expression on her face, both at being pinned and obviously also at the thought of belonging to someone.

"Does Harry not hang from a tree on the Isle of Faces, where he has been for over a decade now?" She asked uncertainly.

"He'll be back, maybe even faster if he has you to look forward to." Luna smiled.

Arianne flushed in obvious pleasure at the compliment before another thought struck her. "What of Dorne? I am my father's heir and I do not wish to give up my birthright."

Luna concealed her thinking by kissing her senseless.

Truth be told, this was for Arianne's own good as much as it was incentive for Harry to come back. The girl was smart and probably could rule Dorne with a decent level of competence, but Luna didn't think she would really be happy doing it. The desert kingdom was shockingly liberal for a feudal nation, but monarchy would still stifle a free spirit such as her.

For all that Dorne's culture had a peculiar way of adapting to whichever gender the current ruler was, the responsibilities of the office still weighed much more heavily on women than they did on men.

Nymphadora and Fleur had been two of the strongest women she had ever known and the stress of ruling had eaten away at them in ways that it simply hadn't at Harry. Luna herself had handed over most of her responsibilities to others long before her more stubborn sister wives did. Adrastia could probably explain in detail why the chest-pounding and posturing inherent in politics came easier to men than it did to women. It would no doubt have something to do with sex – everything had something to do with sex with Adrastia for some reason. All Luna knew was that she didn't want to see another person she cared about, someone she considered an honorary niece, slowly destroy herself doing things that she wasn't suited for.

Besides, if Arianne really wanted to try her hand at ruling then the opportunity could be made available to her.

"You won't have to." Luna said as she broke off the kiss.

No, Arianne wouldn't have to give up her birthright, but she could probably be seduced into doing so.

XXXXX

The next day.

Doran Martell had gotten used to the oddness of the Witch-Queen of Dol Guldur. There had really been no choice in the matter considering how close of a friend she was to the Martell family.

It still didn't help spare him from being surprised by her antics.

"Pardon?" He asked, wondering if he'd heard wrong.

"I want Arianne." Luna repeated patiently. "Arranged marriages are a thing for you, right? I want her."

"But you are a woman." Doran felt the need to point out, bewildered.

"That's not important." She waved off. "Besides, it's more for Harry than for me."

"You want Arianne to marry your husband, the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur." Doran said slowly, trying to figure this out. "Who has been hanging from a tree on the Isle of Faces for over a decade now."

"He'll be back soon, I know he will!" Luna asserted. "And it wouldn't be a marriage as you know it. I just want her to be his. Ours."

There were many questions a father and a lord could ask in this situation. Ones such as 'why' and 'what brought this on' or even 'are you insane', but Doran was a clever man and knew better than to ask questions he didn't want answers for.

"Arianne is my heir." He said instead. "I cannot simply hand her off to be your husband's mistress, her worth is higher than that."

If Harry had come to him and asked for Arianne's hand in marriage and Luna was not in the picture, then he would have little objection to it. Dorne had a rich and proud history, but there was much to gain from having his daughter become the queen of Angmar. Enough that it would have been worth making Quentyn his heir.

But as a mere mistress? Not even a second wife? No, Doran could not agree to that. Bad enough already that Elia was more than likely to end up like that as soon as the man returned. Was it merely coincidence, or was it by design that dowager queens of the Seven Kingdoms ended up in his bed?

"She can still be your heir and this way you wouldn't need to find a suitable husband for her."

That gave Doran pause. While it was true that bastards were not looked upon as harshly in Dorne as they were in the northern kingdoms, an unwed princess having no legitimate children would still be quite the scandal.

On the other hand, the potential benefits of such an arrangement could not be denied….it would mean that his grandchildren, the future rulers of Dorne, may wield sorcerous power and be learned in secret lore long since lost to the world.

"And you have a son that you can train to replace her just in case."

Luna's addendum made Doran suspicious. Why would she say that if Arianne would still be his heir?

"I'll even give you….this!" Luna finished, pulling a sword out of nowhere. "You noble types like swords, right?"

It bore the distinctive ripples of Valyrian steel and a serpentine, flame-like pattern to the blade. In another world it would have been called a flamberge, in Westeros there was nothing quite like it.

"You seem most keen to convince me to agree." Doran noted, not letting on to the fact that he really wanted that sword. He got the distinct impression that the seven foot witch was rather bad negotiator, what with how she didn't even try to hide the depth of her desires.

"I really want Arianne." Luna admitted easily.

Doran felt a little bad. Luna had done a great deal for his family, but he could not pass up such a perfect opportunity to squeeze every possible advantage out of her. Not too bad though, as he strongly suspected that she was not being entirely honest about Arianne staying his heir.

"I will consider it." He finally said. He had already decided to agree to the bargain, but he wanted some time to think of what and how much he could ask for in return.

"Okay, I'll go talk to Harry about it while you're doing that." She said and flounced out of the room happily.

XXXXX

Astral Plane.

Luna could have moments of incredible insight, but she did tend to miss the details sometimes.

Details such as the fact that arousal was an entirely biological function and that he was currently 100% spirit, 0% body.

Still, when Luna contacted him with a thinly veiled bribe to come back in the form of Arianne Martell's nubile young body, something thrummed in his soul. Not his libido, but the contract he had made with Mother Rhoyne decades ago. The contract that bound him to look after the Orphans of the Greenblood and help them reclaim their ancient homeland should they ever attempt it.

It did not compel him to push them into doing it and could be safely ignored for the most part, but Luna's machinations gave him an idea.

He was close to achieving victory over R'hllor and eradicating slavery from this part of Essos. The thought that it might make a comeback once he returned to the mortal world was distasteful. Having a deterrent would be useful and the Rhoynar had despised the practice.

All he would need is a proper figurehead to make it happen and Arianne Martell could provide one, descendant of Princess Nymeria of Ny Sar that she was.

Funny thing about fate. One could shape it just as one was shaped by it.

Harry pulled his attention back towards the spot in the mortal world where Luna was waiting for his reply, a task that had become progressively more difficult of late, and gave her his answer.

"That sounds good, and tell Doran that…"

XXXXX

The next day.

Despite talking to Harry and having him approve of her plan, Luna was more worried than ever.

It wasn't like Harry to worry about what people would do after he was done with a project. It wasn't like him to use his own children as pawns in his plans. It showed both a thawing of his apathy and a distinctly feudal calculation in regards to family. The changes in his personality were becoming more and more apparent and, while she wouldn't mind if he came back a little nicer, she wanted him to still be her Harry.

Fortunately, he assured her that his work was almost done. R'hllor was firmly on the backfoot and had no chance of winning anymore. It would only take a little longer before Harry could safely come back.

She would make sure to talk to him more, but for now it was time to secure a future sex kitten.

"Doran, I've come to bargain!" Luna announced as she barged into the man's solar.

The prince of Dorne sighed in a terribly put upon manner, looking up from his paperwork. "And are you here to actually bargain, or is it yet another jape that I am not privy to?"

That was fair, she did say that every time she walked into his solar. She missed Harry and his silly sense of humor that kept referencing thing from when they were still young and things were simple. Sure, Voldemort had still been running around back then, but that had still been simpler than what came after.

"I'm here to actually bargain." Luna promised. "I went to talk to Harry yesterday and he said that he'd like to have Arianne too."

Well, he hadn't said exactly that, but it was close enough!

"I have done my own thinking on that matter and have decided to accept your proposal, provided that-"

"Wait!" Luna interrupted. "Before you say anything more, I have to tell you that Harry had some ideas of his own."

Doran looked a bit annoyed at being interrupted, but gestured for her to continue.

"See, Harry made a deal with Mother Rhoyne a few decades back to watch over the Orphans of the Greenblood. Now that he's been a god for a while he's apparently decided that he wants to help them revive the Rhoynar civilization and figured that Arianne would make a good mother for their first leader."

Doran had a very good poker face most of the time, but this was apparently too much for him as the shock was obvious in his expression.

"To revive the Rhoynar civilization…." He breathed. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"Oh sure, no problem!" Luna beamed. "It's true that the Orphans don't have enough people among them to do it on their own, but I'm sure that plenty of other Dornish will want to go with them. Same for the Angmari."

"What of the curse that plagues the Sorrows? And the Free Cities? I cannot imagine any of them, especially Volantis, allowing such a thing to happen."

"The curse is just Mother Rhoyne's grief and anger….and tens of thousands of tormented Valyrian souls she's holding prisoner inside her waters. But don't worry, that'll get cleared up when she sees her children coming back to her!"

Doran gave her a deadpan look, as if she had just said something weird. He'd become a bit passive aggressive like that ever since his wife, Mellario, went back to Norvos. He had also been drinking too much wine and eating too much red meat, despite her warnings that his whole family was genetically predisposed towards developing gout.

"And you don't have to worry about the Free Cities either." She continued, ignoring the look. "Harry seemed pretty sure that they would be too busy to do anything, and we'll both be there to make sure everything goes smoothly anyway."

"I see." Doran said in a carefully neutral tone. Luna had noticed that a lot of people used that tone with her. "If you are so certain in the success of this venture, then I will agree to give Arianne over to you and your husband….provided that you teach Dorne the secrets of glassmaking as you did to the North, in addition to the Valyrian steel blade you have already promised."

"Okay!" Luna beamed.

Doran blinked, apparently surprised by something. Strange.

"Very well, I shall inform my daughter of our arrangement."

XXXXX

Another two years passed with nothing of particular note happening in Westeros. The same could not be said of Essos. The struggle between the adherents of R'hllor and the Father of Freedom reached a boiling point.

In truth, R'hllor never had much chance to win. His faction had started out with more money, more people and the advantage of an established position, but Harry had something that the God of Flame and Shadow had never known, much less been able to forget.

An understanding of economics.

Once you really got down to it, slavery was an enterprise with high risk, high overhead costs and poor returns on investment in the long run. It may work for a while, but only so long as nothing too dramatic happened to disturb the fragile status quo. You had to resort to constant cruelty just to keep a lid on the situation and it could never be considered truly 'under control'. A clever enough man knew exactly which supports to knock out to collapse the entire edifice. An even more clever man could also maneuver his enemies into aligning more firmly with such a cause before he destroyed it.

After the initial slow early stages, it didn't take long for slavers to start hemorrhaging money everywhere. Disruptions in trade, rebellions, pressure from outside and more culminated in the rich and powerful simply losing the ability to pay for sufficient manpower to keep the slaves suppressed. And once that started happening, the cost of such services went up in proportion to the risk in a vicious positive feedback loop.

When the time was right and worry began to gnaw at the heart of even the most arrogant slavers,with only the most fanatical followers of R'hllor still convinced of victory, a great black crow took wing from the frozen north and made her way towards Essos, bearing a message for a 'sibling'. It was time to make a statement.

XXXXX

11th day of the 6th moon 291 AC. Somewhere in the Dothraki Sea.

Velka landed on the scorched grass in a fashion that could only be called dignified and gave a short bow to the now absolutely gigantic red dragon that was currently feasting on the small horde of Dothraki he'd chased down.

"Greetings, Brother." She said warmly. "I come bearing a message from Father."

Grigori gobbled up one more horse and rider and stared at the giant crow with shrewd golden eyes.

He was a very smart dragon, but not in the manner of humans. No, he was smart in the manner of an ultimate apex predator that had no need for anything but instinct to guide him.

He knew that he had already outgrown in power the wizard who had hatched him, but he also knew that it didn't matter. Father could do things with his magic that Grigori could not, things that made him more dangerous than a dragon. That made him worth listening to and if this tasty looking bird that smelled like him had a message from him then he would listen.

So he rumbled something that could loosely be interpreted as 'go ahead'.

Grigori listened to the instructions and was perplexed. What Father wanted him to do was directly opposed to what he had taught him and his fellow dragons as hatchlings.

But Grigori wasn't human and quickly shrugged the thought off as irrelevant. If Father wanted him to attack one of the human nests, then he would do it. Then he would go take a nap.

XXXXX

The next day, Volantis.

Grigori followed behind Velka at a leisurely pace, his massive wings casting an even more massive shadow on the ground.

Golden eyes surveyed the human nest curiously. Father had taught them to avoid these places – any places with houses, really – saying that it was foolish to destroy your prey's nest and deprive yourself of food in the future.

That made sense to Grigori, so he limited himself to four-legged prey or those humans that rode horses. It worked out well, since those ones wore less clothing that inevitably got stuck in his teeth or even worse, crunchy pieces of metal that stabbed at his gums.

That was half of the reason why his fellow dragons had dispersed across the land, roosting far apart from each other. None of them wanted to hunt the prey to extinction and starve. The other half of the reason was that dragons were simply not very sociable creatures.

Still, the human nest was interesting. There were so many humans running around and screaming, especially in the outer parts. Hundreds of them were pouring out of the walls and scattering into the surrounding countryside.

It was honestly making him hungry, but that wasn't what he was here for.

"There, inside the Black Walls." Velka spoke, pointing at the thick ring of black stone that smelled of dragonfire to Grigori's nose. "Father wants you to burn it."

Grigori roared and descended, crashing atop the Black Wall. His massive taloned feet gripped the edges, almost big enough to cover the entire width of the wall and his wings blotted out the sun. Arrows loosed by a few brave – or foolish – guards bounced harmlessly off his iron scales, failing to even get his attention.

The red dragon took a deep breath and let loose with his fire, an unnaturally deep red with streaks of gold throughout. The intense magical flame blasted across the city's rotten heart, incinerating anyone caught in it, so hot that not even bones were left. The maze of palaces, temples, courtyards, towers and other remnants of Old Valyria began to melt and flow through the streets in a river of molten rock.

Grigori shuffled around the Black Wall, releasing his flame almost continuously for over an hour, until Old Volantis was nothing more than a pool of magma contained by the Black Wall. Although streams of molten rock poured sluggishly out of the gates and set fire to portions of the outer city as well.

"Good, now there is only one last thing to do." Velka said, having returned once the heat of her brother's attack was no longer threatening to cook her alive. "The Temple of the Lord of Light. Father wants it destroyed."

Grigori looked at the building that the crow was pointing her wing at and roared. He was a bit tired from using his fire that much, but he could handle one more building, even if it was pretty big.

The red dragon took flight again and decided to blast the temple from the sky. Much to his shock, his fire fizzled out before it hit the stone. It took him a moment to process this, as nothing had ever stood up to his fire before, then he got angry. He could feel something coming from the building now, a presence. He could feel it trying to wiggle into his mind like a worm.

That set off the failsafe spell that had been worked into them before they hatched, triggering an unthinking rage in the dragon's mind.

Grigori abandoned his fire and went for a more brute force approach. He flew over one of the larger domes and tucked his wings close to his body. Nearly five thousand tons of fire-breathing lizard crashed through the stone and into the ground with enough force to impersonate an earthquake.

Now inside the temple, Grigori began using his head and tail like wrecking balls, smashing them against the walls until the entire thing began to collapse. Heavy chunks of debris fell on the dragon's body, but did almost no damage. He was so huge, his scales and bones so hard and his muscles so strong that blunt impact was pretty much useless against him. The dust did irritate him a great deal though.

Many priests, worshipers and attendant slaves also got trampled beneath his feet, but he barely noticed. Grigori didn't stop rampaging until he felt the annoying presence disappear, after which he roared in victory.

"Nicely done, I am sure Father will appreciate your enthusiasm." Velka said, amusement coloring her tone at the destruction around them.

Grigori snorted and took to the air again. He desperately needed a bath to wash off all the dust. Good thing that the big river went through the city.

XXXXX

Astral Plane.

The echoes of Grigori's rampage reverberated through the Astral Plane like ripples on the surface of a pond, and R'hllor raged as he felt his power dwindle rapidly.

Conversation between gods was already done more through impressions than through words, but now R'hllor could barely manage even that. His hate was so all-consuming that the only thing he could do was throw it at his enemy.

"With your anchors to the mortal world almost gone, we can finally end this." The upstart said with a grim satisfaction. "Come, let's go into the dark together."

R'hllor couldn't resist as his essence was pulled to the much younger, but now stronger god. He had been the one to forge the link between them in his attempt to create a mortal avatar, a bond that was now dragging him along to wherever the other was going.

The remaining connections he had to his worshipers and the concepts he embodied snapped and he knew no more.

XXXXX

1st day of the 1st moon, 292 AC. Isle of Faces.

"My brothers and sisters, we know not why we have been called here on this day, save that it is the will of the Hanged Man." Terren spoke fervently.

Much had changed for the former boatman since the day when he had first been drawn to the Isle of Faces and drank the blood of the Hanged Man. He had abandoned his job and become a Green Man, wandering Westeros and tending to the weirwoods.

Nor was he alone anymore. Others had followed in his footsteps, some at his urging and others drawn to the Isle of Faces just like he had been. Most had once been followers of the Seven, although their faith had not been strong.

There was no real organization to them – there was no need for one. They were guided by the will of the Hanged Man and it steered them true. Without fail did he lead them away from danger, directed them towards secret paths in the woods and made sure they found food. Despite being active for about a decade, they remained little more than a rumor in remote villages.

This was the first time that they felt a pull to return to the Isle of Faces and all of them were a little excited to find out what their god wanted from them.

"Let us partake of his blood, so that we may know his will!" Terren called, getting a cheer of approval.

One by one, the gathered men and women held out the weirwood cup and let the blood trickling from the end of the spear fill it, before drinking it with a reverential solemnity.

They were about halfway through before the sky took on a distinctly red tint. It was barely noticeable at first, but it quickly became so bright that it looked as if the world way dyed in blood.

"The Red Comet…." Terren whispered in awe, watching the blazing celestial object streak across the sky.

A shiver of excitement went through the crowd. They all knew that their lord had hung himself the last time the Red Comet had appeared. There was an obvious leap of logic to be made.

"He is returning to the world!" Terren shouted gleefully. "Quickly! Drink, those of you who have not yet done so!"

The previous reverential solemnity gave way to excited urgency. One after the other they gulped down a mouthful of blood before passing on the cup and shuffling away.

Only about a dozen were left when things changed again. A young man of perhaps nineteen years held out the cup.

A few drops trickled in before the flow stopped. Literally stopped. Drops of blood gradually slowed down until they hung in the air. Then the blood began to flow in reverse, returning to the spear shaft and crawling back into the wound from whence it came.

Terren and the other watched in silent awe as it happened. At first it was just a trickle, then it steadily built into a torrent. Blood rushed out of the ground that had been greedily drinking it for so many years. Enough blood for dozens, then hundreds of men.

It wasn't long before the new order of Green Men felt a tug in their own bodies. At first it was barely noticeable, but soon it became insistent, then painful.

"Hnngh!" Terren groaned and collapsed to his knees as he felt something being pulled out of him, barely audible over the groans of his fellows and the sound of blood rushing from the ground.

The groans turned to agonized screams as the blood they'd imbibed, long since bonded to every cell in their body, was torn from them, their own blood being pulled along with it.

The river of blood was massive enough now to completely cover the hanging wizard, before being sucked into the wound in his side like water into a drain. Far, far too much blood for a single body to contain, but rituals worked on their own rules.

When the last drop of blood was absorbed, the spear and the hangman's noose vanished as if they had never existed, and the Hanged Man fell to the ground.

XXXXX

A scream ripped itself from his throat before teeth clacked together as his jaw slammed shut. If they hadn't been made of cleverly disguised metal instead of the usual materials, the force with which he was grinding them together would have shattered them. As it was, his gums started bleeding from the pressure being exerted on them.

He barely noticed the pain, too overwhelmed by every other sensation. It was too bright, too dark, too loud, too quiet, too hot, too cold. There were too many smells in his nose, too many flavors on his tongue. Too much weight pressing down on him, too many things messing with his balance. He didn't even remember what it was like to need balance!

More than anything, though, there were too many voices in his mind. Body and brain felt too small for the soul they were meant to contain. Thirteen years of new memories, combined with the vague impressions of billions of those long dead vied for space in overwhelmed neural pathways. The prayers of millions still looking to him for guidance continued reaching out to him.

It was all too much and he blacked out, gratefully surrendering to the darkness of unconsciousness.

Minutes later, Luna arrived and stared in shock at the hundreds of desiccated bodies littering the ground, but that was quickly forgotten as she found her husband lying among them, the only one still alive.

XXXXX

A few hours later. Dol Guldur.

Everyone (except Adrastia) reflexively stood up as Luna entered the room.

"How is he?" Rhaella was the first to get the question out, her worry clear.

"Comatose." Luna replied shortly. "It's lucky that he made these new bodies so resilient, or it would have been worse than that. He has a fever of 63°C and his brain, especially his cerebral cortex, is hyperactive to the point that it began shutting down his autonomous functions. I managed to stabilize him, but he won't wake up until his brain activity normalizes."

She didn't mention the fact that his soul was a maelstrom of chaos that was impossible to make sense of.

"Eh?" Thirteen-year-old Visenya vocalized the confusion most of them were feeling, tilting her head sideways with a frown. "What does that mean? Is he going to be alright?"

Luna reached over to pat the girl's black hair. "Your daddy is going to be just fine. The thinky parts of his brain just got a bit out of hand, so he has to sleep until they calm down."

"Okay." Visenya smiled. She had been looking forward to meeting her father.

"How long before he wakes up?" Havel rumbled.

"I don't know." Luna frowned. "It could be days or it could be months, but probably not years."

XXXXX

Luna hummed to herself as she breezed into Harry's workshop, which had gone unused ever since his pseudo-ascension. She was so happy to have him back that she decided to clean off the dust before he woke up, so that he would be able to get right back to his projects when he woke up.

With her trusty feather duster and no longer diminutive height, no speck of dust would be safe!

She was just passing by his collection of creepy, greasy black rocks (all neatly sorted in separate containers and labeled by location from which they were taken), when she stopped.

Luna tilted her head sideways with a frown, trying to figure out what she was sensing. It was kind of like….white noise?

She stared at the rocks and focused on the bizarre sensation, frown steadily deepening at the confusing impression she was getting.

A wet, warm trickle snapped her out of the trance and she rubbed a finger across her upper lip. It came away bloody.

"Oh dear." Luna said placidly. "That's probably not good."