75 - ||

After resting for a few hours and taking another bath, Jon entered the Great Hall flanked on either side by his aunt and Írimë.

Lalwen was his consort and Dany his aunt, so escorting them was appropriate for such an event.

Many in the Hall stood in awe of Lalwen's Elven beauty though many too were enraptured by his aunt's ethereal countenance.

However, he too drew the eyes of the Lords, for his raiment was fair clad in the tunic of Laurelin that shone as the sun, upon his brow the Star of Ulmo glittering as the sea and pinned to his breast the Elessar he heard many whispers of awe though he could scarcely blame them for none had wore such gifts since ere the Lords of the Vanynar came to these lands.

Though such grandeur unsettled him, he hoped to please his beloved Lalwen, who shone with happiness that her creation caused such a stir.

Nevertheless, he was enraptured by the splendour of the celebration; doubtless, it was an honour that his beloved viper could do so much with so little; from the ceiling hung banners bearing the heraldries of the Houses of Elendil, Anárion, Isildur, Finwë, Finarfin and Targaryen. There were spirits of every flavour and strength, stuffed boar and aurochs, the tables set with many garlands; most pleasing of all was a company of Elven minstrels who sang many a cheerful tune while the Lords of Gondor drank and celebrated for the last time.

Seeing him arrive with Lalwen at his side, the inhabitants of the City began to whisper they were Tuor and Idril come again.

Although this aroused the ire of his lady loves, who looked on as Lalwen smiled merrily for what grander honour could such a union receive, though Dany seemed displeased to be ignored, so he kissed her much to the pleasure of his subjects who hooped and hollered in admiration of their Prince.

It was then he sensed a swell of great anger nearing them; he turned, and there stood his lady loves, each clad in raiments of great beauty even Arya seemed a true Lady; he was quite astonished, wondering where Arya would have obtained such fine pieces as she had never asked for jewellery or ornaments only weapons and stout mail. 

Leading them was his beloved Galadriel clad in a gown of white silk set with silvered leaves wrought of pearl; the dress was cut low, offering a daring view of her bosom, and one leg left bare, she too wore his gifts, a necklace of Valyrian steel and one he had newly forged.

A silver crown carven with songbirds and flowers, Alatáriel was the Telerin name given to Galadriel by Celeborn, meaning Maiden Crowned with Radiant Garland, which referred to his beloved's golden tresses, and so he thought it a great gift to forge her a crown of her own.

'Lady Galadriel...' He greeted courteously, bowing low, and she returned the gesture in kind though they were weary of this game and yearned to bear their love to the world.

'Prince Baelon … Aunt, Princess Daenerys,' Galadriel said politely, but Jon could see the enviousness in her glittering eyes.

'What's wrong with him?' He wondered, not knowing that Galadriel was vexed she could not spy upon his tryst with Írimë and Dany though all was forgotten when Isildur and Anárion appeared.

'Welcome, Jon… Lady Írimë and Princess Daenerys,' Anárion said merrily. He was accompanied by his wife and Melendil, who seemed quite pleased to be there.

'King Anárion, Queen Elirien and Prince Melendil ...' Jon said, bowing as Lalwen and Dany did the same.

'At last you come… We began to think you would sleep till the end of Arda; Lady Arianne arranged a splendid party,' Anárion said, looking over his subjects with great love.

' Aye, there is no doubt that Arianne has a gift for arranging parties and feasts… No matter how swiftly she must do so, though I daresay that is a party of special magnificence.' Jon said, and Arianne reddened at his words, pleased to be recognized for her endeavours.

'Thank you, my Wolf,' Arianne said, toying with her ebon tresses, though she was displeased as she could not draw him away from Lalwen nor Dany while Anárion conversed with them.

A sentiment shared by the rest of his lovers as he saw Galadriel and Rhaenys eyeing Írimë angrily, but his Songbird paid them no mind, merely smiling ruefully, for she had him to herself for the moment.

'And may I say, my friend, your garments are glorious, seldom have I seen such beauty save for in the tales of yore!' Anárion toasted while Lalwen laughed happily.

'Thank you for such high praise, King Anárion; I certainly use all my skills to prepare a robe worthy of my Nin Mel,' Írimë said lovingly and overjoyed that they recognized her hard work.

'You are fortunate, Jon… Hmm… is that Laurelin the golden embroidered upon the robe?' Anárion asked, remembering his lessons.

'Yes, my dearest is quite skilful when it comes to weaving and sewing,' Jon said happily. But, alas, he could see the hints of enviousness in the eyes of his ladies, there was little to be done with such an assemblage of people.

'Ah, my wolf wait until you gaze upon the tunic I have made for you; it shall be far greater than my aunt's work', Galadriel said sourly, no doubt displeased that he praised Írimë's work so highly.

'My beloved Star, this is not a contest; your creations are as exquisite as Lalwen's. I am looking forward to wearing the robe you knit for me as I am sure it will be beautiful… Although you may have to hurry to complete it before retiring for the North.' Jon said, hoping to calm his Star.

 'It is a promise, my Wild Wolf!' Galadriel said, eager to see her beloved wearing her work.

' Aye, Lady Írimë 's gift seems to glow as if the Golden has bloomed once more,' Anárion said in wonder, and his wife, displeased that he would praise another woman's work so strongly, swatted his arm angrily.

'I'm sorry, my love, I only recognized the beauty of the objects that Jon carries with him as well as the robe that the Lady Írimë knitted for him,' Anárion said quickly.

'Oh, my Lady Galadriel, that is a beautiful crown,' Queen Elirien said, gazing at the silvered crown in wonder and envy.

'Thank you, My Lady, it was a gift,' Galadriel said, smiling with satisfaction as she watched her wolf redden; it seems his family were of a mind with her as they giggled behind their hands and spoke softly to one another.

'Even after all these years, it is delightful to embarrass my dearest with praise.' Galadriel thought, amused at seeing her husband's embarrassment.

'I will not forget this, my Star!' She merely smiled at him, eager for a new wager between them.

Unknowing of the quarrel between the lovers, Anárion's wife and Isildur's, who had joined them, continued to gaze in wonder at the jewels of Galadriel, indeed all the Westerosi who each bore a piece of superb quality.

Both Queens started whispering in their husbands' ears, asking for gems of such beauty for themselves.

However, Jon could sense the misgivings of Isildur's third son, Ciryon, who, although holding him in high esteem, was somewhat vexed that his appearance was grander than that of his father and uncle.

… Here we go again… Jon thought with annoyance.

'I would like to meet your jeweller, my Lady Galadriel unless he yet abides in Edhellond. Your crown and necklace are the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen, matched only by your aunt Írimë's dragon necklace,' Said Queen Berendreth, drawing Jon out of his thoughts.

'Yes, and I would like to know how much did Prince Baelon have to pay for those beautiful gems?' Queen Elirien asked curiously.

And his lady love began giggling merrily, no doubt pleased by the Queen's unfamiliarity of the matter.

'Did we say something amusing?' Queen Berendreth asked; Isildur laughed and kissed her sweetly.

'No, my dear, yet you shan't have to look further for their jeweller; he stands right next to you,' Isildur said happily, while his wife looked at Jon in wonder.

'Prince Baelon, forgive me; I hadn't thought you a jeweller. I always thought your talents lay in the forging of weapons and stonecraft; this is a most welcome surprise,' Berendreth said apologetically.

'Thank you, my Queen, for a humble goldsmith; it is a joy that my work is appreciated,' Jon said humbly while his loved ones snorted.

'Your skill is wonderful; if even the Lady Galadriel openly wears your creations, such skill rivals even the artisans of Numenor,' Elirien said in wonderment.

'I thank you, my Queens. I learned much under the tutelage of the Dwarves and from the teaching of Enerdhil,' Jon said, bowing again.

'So it's true, mayhaps you could forge something for us as well?' Berendreth said as she and Elirien glanced at their husbands hopefully though his King's turned dour as they knew such a plea would interrupt his furlough.

'Well, if it's what my Queens desire, so it shall be,' He said, glancing at his King's in satisfaction though it seemed the rulers had swallowed a lemon for their countenance soured the brothers knew well when he forged jewels or items of such beauty he hoped to be reimbursed handsomely for the effort, something he learned from King Durin and his many artisans why do good work if you can't charge a great deal for it.

'Splendid…' Anárion said sarcastically.

Isildur sighed and began to rub his temple.

'Very well… Before we may enjoy the fruits of Arianne's labour, I bring news from the North,' Isildur said grimly, and all knew it concerned the war to come.

'What news, brother?' Anárion asked, getting closer to his wife.

'I took council with father yesterday; it shall take some two years for the armies of Arnor and Lindon to be assembled. You and I will go North while Anárion guards the Southern Realm, and once all is made ready, we shall march to Amon-Sul and from there to Rivendell,' Elendil's heir said solemnly, and Jon nodded.

'I must confess I knew this would be our King's wish even with our combined host; it would be foolish to march for Mordor so hastily,' Jon acknowledged taciturnly.

'A wise choice Prince Jon; we know nought what horrors the Dark Lord has prepared for us,' Galadriel agreed with her husband.

'Yes. my father thinks the same… That is why he and King Gil-Galad prefer to unite their armies and then leave for Imladris, where we shall hold a council of war… Although they will be glad to know that King Oropher and King Amdir of Lorien have accepted King Gil-Galad's summons, and they have already begun to arm themselves for battle,' Isildur said proudly.

'Praise be to the Valar ...' Anárion said, happy to think the war could be ended swiftly.

'Aye, I also bear a message from Lord Elrond,' Isildur said.

'A message?' Jon asked, intrigued.

'It's not bad, it's an invitation... Lord Elrond has offered Imladris as a refuge for our families so long as Sauron endures!' Isildur said, to the surprise of all assembled.

'A refuge?' Jon asked, presuming Elrond must have his reasons the Lord of Imladris is eminently wise and powerful even among his kin, and such gifts should not be shunned.

A quick glance at Lalwen and Galadriel told him they thought the same.

Elrond's generosity is greatly appreciated...' Jon said, glancing at his family, who knew he was of a mind with Elrond.

'Jon…' Arya tried to argue but was swiftly silenced by Ashara

'Although it's not all good news... I told my Father of the aid given at Minas Ithil, and he was displeased,' Isildur said, glancing at him regretfully, and Jon knew he would face punishment for his cheek.

'I see…' Jon said gloomily

'Aye, he was furious though I counselled him to leniency as your aid was much needed, and though his ire is still great, my father shall forgive your boldness provided you share with him all you have learned in the arts of forging,' Isildur said, looking at Jon intently and this resigned sigh.

'If it is my King's desire, so shall it be done', Jon agreed as Lalwen kissed him tenderly.

'Anything else, brother?' Anárion asked, but Isildur shook his head.

'Nya, he merely wishes us a safe journey and hopes we can come with all haste', Isildur replied.

'In that case, let's move on to something more cheerful. This is a splendid party; we should not let it be ruined,' Anárion said jovially, and all laughed in merriment.

'Aye, let us celebrate,' Jon said happily, though his heart was clouded by sadness, for he knew these would be the last happy days of Gondor for a long while, and many of these noble Lords and fair Princes the world would not see their like again.

At that moment, Lalwen and Dany escorted him to the dance floor, and they were swiftly followed by his other loves; all the while, Isildur and Anárion laughed and cheered for their boldness as they celebrated their last night of peace.

Through the night, it seemed the weariness of the world faded from their minds. There was no talk of war nor the battles ahead, merely the thought of love and life as the Men of Westernese and the Elves celebrated as brothers as in the days of yore. He danced through the night with each of his loves first came Lalwen, then Dany and Sansa, Rhaenys came after her, then his grandmother, Arya, Shiera, Ashara and lastly, Arianne each claimed two dances from him.

Furthermore, Jon danced with the Queens of Isildur and Anárion as a courtesy while their Kings danced with other women.

However, Jon was missing a single person, the most desired woman in the Hall besides Lalwen … His beloved Galadriel waited for her turn anxiously.

Yet, her turn came, and Jon, knowing that his beloved was uneasy, went to her and extended his hand requesting a dance and Galadriel, with a smile as radiant as her Silmaril, gladly accepted, and they began the last dance of the night.

As they danced, their closeness caught the attention of Elendur, Ciryon, and even some of the elves that escorted Galadriel and Lalwen were troubled to see the reverence their Lady held for the Prince of Osgiliath.

It was almost as if she… loved him. She loved him despite knowing that he was married to her aunt Írimë; at first, everyone dismissed that idea as absurd, but if there were any doubts, they began to disperse when at the end of the dance, she kissed him on the forehead.

At that moment, the Elves gazed upon the emissary of the Valar with distrust, for he was taking far too many liberties with their Lady. But, alas, it seems only Elendur knew the truth, but he would say nought for risk of angering the Elves and his family.

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Two days later

They stood in the practice yard, Jon clad in his dwarven plate as a squire handed him Ringil and the shield of the High King; he usually wouldn't bring forth such vestments save for war, but Isildur had requested they fight as if it were a true battle.

Indeed despite the duel occurring at first light, it drew many spectators who flooded the arena eager to see their Prince and King duel; among them were numerous Men and Elves who hoped the son of Elendil would humble the young Prince.

The best view was reserved for the families of the Prince and King; they were supplied jams, sweet tarts and iced juices as it was far too early for wine. 

'Will it start soon?' Arya asked excitedly, eager to see Jon defeat Isildur.

'Yes, they are already arming themselves for combat, my Lady', Elendur replied.

Arya was like a child again, much to the amusement of Ashara and Sansa, who struggled to have their wayward charge sit still.

'By the Valar, would they get this over with' Rhaenys muttered, anxious to spend the evening with her brother, though unbeknownst to her, Írimë was keeping an eye on her.

'Everyone is excited to see our Wolf battle King Isildur …' Arianne said, taking note of how many had gathered.

'They're about to start...' Anárion said excitedly.

Galadriel and Rhaella said nothing and nodded even though the Lady of Light had begun to feel discontent among her people... As if something troubled them.

Do they suspect Jon and me ?'  Galadriel wondered, it is true that during the last dance with her lover, she could hardly master her feelings, and perhaps she was far too bold, but they were tired of such secrecy.

'Oh, for the Valar, no, not yet… It's too soon!' Galadriel thought, fearful that her love for her Wolf might be revealed at such an inopportune time.

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At last, Isildur revealed himself striding into the yard clad in full harness, Ithiel glittered cold and bright in his hands.

'Are you ready, Jon?' Isildur asked happily.

'Aye, my King though, I think it best we clash lest the anticipation drives us mad,' Jon said, drawing Ringil from her scabbard.

'Now it begins….' Jon muttered, and none save the Elves heard him.

Isildur came with such swiftness that Jon had scarce time to raise his shield, doing all he could to evade the King's assault, stepping off the line of attack and retreating hastily in an effort to put some distance between them. Yet Isildur came after him relentlessly, Ithiel flashing as it sliced through the air again and again.

Jon knew he was a vastly superior warrior then than he had been when he first came to Middle Earth those centuries past, having been trained by the mightiest Elf of Gondolin. He was older, wiser and far swifter than he had once been, yet he still struggled with the pace of the battle Isildur was setting, even more so with the great King's experience.

After trading blows for several minutes, they parted, and the two knights continued to stalk around each other, Isildur launching the occasional testing strike, which Jon would deflect with the barest turn of his wrist, but neither had brought their full might to bear.

'My brother is the better swordsman,' Anárion said thoughtfully, eyeing the battle with keen interest.

'But my beloved brother is far swifter and mightier,' Rhaenys replied.

'This fight shall not be decided swiftly', Elendur added, admiring the mastery of his Father and Jon.

Isildur once more pressured him with a flurry of blows, yet he could match Isildurs swiftness and took each blow upon his shield.

'There is no doubt that this shield is the mightiest bulwark of the Elven King's to resist the blows of Grond and now Ithiel!' Isildur acknowledged.

Another blow thundered into Jon's shield, yet this one was strong enough to wrench the shield from his hands. He slashed a riposte towards Isildurs neck, but the King stepped back and brought Ithiel down with great strength, and to their astonishment, Jon stopped the blade though it bit deeply into his vambrace and pierced his arm, drawing blood.

'Jon didn't wear his full hauberk? The fool will get himself hurt,' Arianne said, fearful for the safety of her husband.

Though Isildur had put too much strength behind the blow and stumbled off balance. Jon growled and backhanded the King away. He then pulled the sword from his arm and threw it to the Isildur, who deftly caught it though his face was bruised from his mailed fist.

'What strength…' whispered one of the Elven Captains who was watching the battle.

'Prince Baelon is very honourable... He returned King Isildur's sword to be able to finish the battle properly ...' Lord Azrubên acknowledged, worried that the battle would get out of control because neither of them seemed to want to give in.

'This training is far too dangerous for my liking,' Queen Berendreth said, worried about her husband while Elendur reassured her.

Jon lunged for him, and Isildur danced out of the way. Jon turned, sweeping his blade overhead and bringing it crashing down in a heavy, diagonal strike. 

Closing the distance once more, Isildur lunged at Jon, feinting high and coming in low with a brutal attack intended to disarm him. It seemed Jon guessed his intentions, and dropped the angle of his guard to block the attack, but Isildur knew and swiftly switched the slant of his blow. Then, spinning on his heels, he turned swiftly, his blade mere inches from Jon's shoulder, yet he blocked it in a remarkable display of speed.

The dance of blades went on like this for much of the afternoon in some moments, one almost overcame the other, yet each time drawing upon more strength to fight on their blades, a flurry of blows so fast it seemed like the clashing of lightning, the audience watched enraptured as the two fought on neither willing to yield to the other.

No one remembered how long they duelled; for now, it seemed less a spar and more a contest of wills though, after several more hours, the most extraordinary thing happened after regarding each other for a few moments, both sheathed their blades.

'Enough... Neither of us can beat the other ...' Isildur said, and Jon nodded.

'Your blade work is masterful, King Isildur … You are a much finer warrior than your brother, although I haven't fought him for many years, so my opinion is perhaps unreasonable still; your swordsmanship is sublime,' Jon acknowledged.

'And your strength and speed are extraordinary … How is your arm?' Isildur asked, concerned, but his fears were unfounded as he saw that Jon's arm bore no wound, merely a slight scar where his blade had pierced him.

They turned to the crowned and were welcomed by thunderous applause. Jon looked to the stands and saw his lovers, each eyeing him lustfully.

'oh, by the Valar.' Jon thought, terrified when suddenly several soldiers ran into the yard, each bearing the livery of the guard; they came swift as the wind and knelt before Isildur, who seemed confused.

'What's going on?' Isildur asked, bewildered.

'My King, your father's emissaries have arrived', One of the soldiers declared though he seemed confused.

'What are you waiting for? Bring them here!' Isildur said impatiently.

'We have my King... though I think it best you see them with your own eyes.' The soldiers glanced at each other warily, but Jon could sense the anger of his loves though he knew not what would rile them.

Jon's answers came when he saw The Emissaries of King Elendil ... A garrison of soldiers that he was certain hadn't seen twenty winters in truth; if it weren't for their livery and the banners they bore, he would have thought them the camp cooks rather than honest emissaries. 

'What's going on here?' Jon thought.

'You will know soon, my Wolf', Galadriel said suddenly, and Jon could feel the bitterness in her voice.

Upon seeing Isildur, the emissaries swiftly dismounted their horses and bowed low in greeting.

'Are you emissaries of my Father?' Isildur asked after a moment.

'Yes, King Isildur …' One of the young soldiers said; he was tall and broad though not robust, clearly a farmer's son unused to the rigours of battle.

'What is your name, lad?' Isildur asked?

'Borneas...' Said that young man who appeared to be their captain.

'What is my father's purpose in sending you here?' Isildur asked.

'Train… We are soldiers, yet our drills our not complete; in Annuminas, there are already too many officers taking charge of the training of the fresh recruits, but King Elendil ordered us to come here so that Prince Baelon would command the last part of our training' Borneas said happily glancing at him with an odd reverence.

'Handle your training?' Jon said in shock as the soldiers looked at him admiringly.

'Yes, King Elendil sent us here for that purpose. I confess that it was bizarre to travel here if, in the end, we would return... But we could not neglect the prospect to learn the arts of war from Prince Baelon, who was taught in many trades by the Wise of Middle-earth as well as the King of Khazad-dûm; those were the words of King Elendil,' Said the young soldier looking at him in admiration while Isildur gave him a look of pity.

Elendil's punishment, it was unlikely that the High King of the Dúnedain would know he had sought to rest before coming North, yet it seems the old King had foreseen it.

At that moment, Isildur put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Jon, but it seems my father chose the most opportune moment to punish you,' Isildur said sadly as Jon nodded.

'I would have preferred whipping… That wouldn't have lasted that long!' Jon said bitterly as the young soldiers knelt and swore their oaths of fealty to him.

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The Arbor, Westeros (A few weeks later)

Mina Tyrell was having an exciting afternoon; she was chatting animatedly with her good sister Alerie; she had come to visit her in the Arbor along with her niece Margaery and her nephew Garlan and his wife, the Fossoway girl, all at the invitation of her husband. Unfortunately, however, her brother Mace was not with them as he was still recovering from his imprisonment by the new Targaryen King, a horrible affair if what her good sister told her was true.

Normally Mina would enjoy spending time with her brother's wife much more; however, since her nephew Loras was exiled from Westeros, Alerie is far dourer although she can't blame her, one of her children is missing... Or rather two if what she had heard about her former ward is true as Alerie's rage against her brother and mother were such that they say her screams and curses could be heard in Oldtown.

Although Mina could not understand how her brother and Alerie allowed themselves to become so enamoured of the boy, still she would not judge them since she is also a mother; she would not know what to do if one of her children was taken away from her. But, alas, despite her compassion for their plight, she could not neglect the task that her husband had given her... convince Alerie to tell her everything she knew about her former ward... To which she gladly agreed though it saddened her greatly to be reminded of the boy she had raised as one of her own indeed, her mother's callousness would help Paxter forge a bond with the boy when he returned.

Her husband had revealed to her that several weeks ago, he had a secret meeting with Randyll Tarly and Mathys Rowan hosted by Ser Richard Lonmouth, one of Prince Rhaegar's former squires; her husband told her everything they discussed at that meeting, such as the true origins of the Prince and the legitimacy of his birth.

To say that Mina was shocked by that was an understatement... That boy who was just a bastard from the North who had the great fortune to grow up as a ward in Highgarden and enjoy the favour of the Guardian of the South and his wife was now the younger brother of King Aegon and his heir, at least until the King has children with his bastard cousin.

That seemed like a cruel joke; just like her husband, she had never taken a keen interest in the boy except that her brother and his wife seemed to love him like a son, which she found surprising and annoying, although she could understand why he did not act as a scoundrel like bastards were accustomed to do.

Prince Baelon was in those years an intelligent, sensible, quiet, respectful, courteous, skilled and very handsome young man, being a splendid warrior and singer, something that she herself applauded in the times that he came to visit in those days the halls of the Arbor would be filled with his sweet voice however the Prince was much more than a singer, he was likewise skilled in arms and bested her sons in the Tourney of Oldtown indeed he earned her ire that day as no mother wishes to see her sons so handily defeated, she merely tolerated him for her love of Mace and Alerie.

However, her daughter Desmera had been smitten with him, constantly looking for excuses to discreetly approach the Prince when he came to visit. Even on one occasion, she tried to embroider for him a doublet with the inverted colours of House Stark, but her efforts were thwarted by her brothers, who informed them of their sisters' intentions; it was then that she and her husband explained to their daughter that since he was a bastard, he was not a good match for her and could not marry him.

The misery of her daughter had been terrible to behold… And now that bastard she and her husband considered unworthy of their daughter was the heir to the Iron Throne… The gods must love to mock them with their ironies, especially when understanding the missed opportunity.

She and her husband choose to keep this information a secret from their children as well as Mace and Alerie … At least until the right time comes, she truly loves her family, but House Redwyne cannot forsake an opportunity for mere hurt feelings… So supposing Prince Baelon and her nephew are found from their journey Tarly, Rowan, and that boorish Lonmouth seemed to think they could convince the boy to wed Desmera.

The first thing her husband did was talk to Hobber and Horas about the Prince. Although they were both surprised that their father would ask them about someone they considered lesser, their witless sons reaffirmed their hatred for the Prince, stating that he was merely lucky at Oldtown and again in Kings Landing and that surely he had fled like a coward after being discarded by their Uncle Mace, returning his place to the dregs. 

However, Mina was sure that her children's resentment was due to the fact that Margaery, much like Desmera, was enamoured with the Prince, and her children had always competed with each other to be not only the Lord of Arbor but likewise become Margaery's husband although she always ignored them… Unlike the Prince.

After defining their terrible relationship with the Prince, they both smiled stupidly... While she and her husband suppressed the desire to strike them but it would do little, so they sent the confused boys to their rooms lest her husband fly into a rage.

It was clear that neither Hobber nor Horas were loved by the Prince, so the only chance they would have would fall to Desmera, who, if Mina's memory did not fail her, the Prince always treated with courtesy, even paying her compliments when wanted.

Although his daughter was no longer a child, she was a woman, beautiful and rich... Whose family was one of the most powerful and influential in the 7 Kingdoms, even during the time of Aegon V, one of his children was betrothed to her mother, although he then annulled the engagement preferring the company of his squire.

But if the Prince returns to Westeros unmarried, Mina will make sure her daughter's childhood dreams come true... Her niece Margaery had her chance; now, it's time for her daughter and her family to have theirs.

-------------------------------

'Are you okay, Mina?' Alerie asked, taking a cup of tea after returning from the falconry, the servants had prepared tea, sweets and bards, but the words of her brother's wife brought her out of her deep thoughts.

'Yes, yes, I am sorry... I was lost in myself for a few moments,' Mina apologized, hoping that her lie was believable.

'Don't worry, you're probably tired after riding so long?' Alerie said with a sigh.

'Yes, surely that is it... But tell me, how have you been? How is Mace?' Mina asked curiously; as far as she and Paxter knew, the ordeal of being held captive by King Aegon was... Terrifying and supernatural, her poor brother had been returned to his family little more than a withered shell of the man he once was… Although thanks to Alice's loving care, life seemed to be slowly returning to him… Something that Mina thanks the gods for every night.

'It's better, much better...' Alerie said very happily.

'I'm glad, as well as that peace is returning after this horrible war caused by the damned Lions,' Mina said, taking a candy.

'Yes, although the Kingdom is full of wounds, debts, deaths... Scorched lands and...' Alerie said, holding back tears, and Mina took her hands.

'They will return… Both of them, have faith, Alerie!' Mina said as Alerie looked at her in surprise.

'How do you know?' Alerie.

'A boy shall always return to the home that gave him so much... That boy was your son. Now he and my nephew are lost... I can't imagine what you must be suffering,' Mina said compassionately, waiting for Alerie to speak of the boy.

'Thank you, Mina, thank you very much… You are one of the few who understand that Jon is as much a son to me as Loras; I want them both back, safe and sound at home, in Highgarden … That is what I pray for now,' Alerie said wistfully.

'But he is a young man from the North; won't he want to return to Winterfell with his brothers?' Mina asked, and Alerie snorted disdainfully.

'I doubt it, now that miserable cunt Catelyn Stark rules there as regent for her son Rickon, that woman will probably send him to the Wall as soon as Jon sets foot there well if she wishes to try, I'm certain Garland can siege Riverrun for recompense stupid trout,' Alerie growled angrily.

'She truly loves him as her own,' Mina thought, amazed at the disdain Alerie held for Catelyn Stark without knowing the woman.

'So you and Mace will offer him some small stronghold here in The Reach if he and Loras return?' Mina asked, suppressing the urge to chuckle at the idea of a Lord offering a small bastion to a Targaryen Prince.

'Yes, we had decided shortly before the war began… But your mother,' Alerie said bitterly.

'She forced them to exile him from the Reach, and Loras followed him .. ' Mina said, finishing her sentence, before taking another sweet from the tray.

'Yes, Willas and I would have liked to lock Jon in Highgarden to protect him from the Lannisters after his father's execution... But my good mother ruined that plan,' Alerie said cruelly.

'I'm surprised my mother was so threatened… Or that you cared so much about him,' Mina said, choosing her words carefully.

'I know, sometimes I don't think so either; when my husband brought him from the North, I didn't even want to see him, I thought a bastard would dirty our halls, and I would have preferred Lord Eddard to send us his heir and perhaps in time request a betrothal to Margaery. But after months of watching him struggle to prove his worth, my disdain turned to pity to learn that the boy didn't even know who his mother was, and soon pity turned to love,' Alerie said wistfully, gazing out across the harbour.

'motherly love?' Mina asked, bewildered, and Alerie laughed.

'Yes, although that merely happened after Loras and Jon became wonderful friends... By then, it had been a little over a year since Jon came to live in Highgarden,' Alerie said, smiling.

'He must be an exceptional young man...' Mina said, taking note of everything.

'Yes, it is… I think you know that Jon is a great bard and warrior …' Alerie said, arching one of her delicate eyebrows, and Mina soughed.

'Yes, I know, it's a shame his father didn't legitimize him; he would be a good match for any Lady', Mina said, observing Alerie's countenance.

'Yes, indeed… If he wasn't a bastard… Jon would be treated with the respect he deserves… He may be baseborn, but that boy was far more Lordly than any man of purest blood I've seen,' Alerie sighed.

'Oh, my dear sister, if only you knew who your adopted son really is. I'm sorry, Alerie, I really am, but I'm my mother's daughter, and while I care for you deeply, a mother must do what she can for her own children.' Mina thought ruefully.

Notes:

Thanks to great_red