Clarity Overcomes Chaos

King's Landing

Daeron 

Sansa giggled at his touch, Daeron took one of his free hands and cupped one of her breasts as the sun shone through the curtain by the balcony. "Do you really have to leave so soon, Daeron?" She asked, her tone sad she tilted her head to look at him, he sighed while pressing his chest to her naked back.

"If the King doesn't lead, how can he expect his people to follow? I have to be a braver, better King than my father." He said and she turned to face him, her blue eyes full of tears and he pained when looking at her state.

Lifting a tear from one of her eyes, he lowered his head to kiss her lips again and laid back on to the bed to get more comfortable, he got on top of his wife, pecking her with kisses on her neck and breast and loving that they could be this intimate after such a frustrating crawl to take back his family's power.

He has to savor this intimacy for it'll be the last time before he marches off to war one last time, and this time, it won't be as conventional as before.

The Army of the Dead won't behave like a normal foe- They'll be more merciless and won't leave bodies on the battlefield, even the tactics he's become so familiar with won't work against them. Cavalry charges won't dent them, such a move works only on those that fear the stampede. They'll have to-

A knock came to his door causing them to be stunned for a moment.

"What is it, Kovarro?" He asked, and his friend opened it a little, peeking his head inside and Sansa quickly covered herself with their blanket.

"The fat reader, my Khal, and the pretty wolf." Getting up, he found his trousers and a thin shirt and walked to the door but turned to his wife, saying that he'll be back.

It was a surprise to see the 'fat reader' was Samwell Tarly, he had thought the man would be preparing for his return to the Citidel. He also noticed that Lord Tarly's son was stressed, anxious, and quite attached to the book he had in his hand.

Jon also looked deprived of sleep, tired with bags under his eyes. Daeron petted Ghost, glad that the giant of a wolf finally warmed up to him.

"Now, It's a bit early to be gathering to talk about the White Walkers. The wedding was just hours ago, what's the matter?" He asked the Warden of the North and Maester in Training.

"I think this is a matter best spoken to somewhere privately, the Tower of the Hand, perhaps?" He shook his head, Tyrion's appointment as Hand hasn't been announced quite yet and Tyrion is no doubt resting after last night's reveling.

Gesturing for him to follow, he turned and ordered Kovarro to find Barristan and Jorah with commands to meet them in the old dungeon where the dragon skulls used to be, he had them brought back out a week after his victory and had them put back where they should be.

The old dungeon is quiet and he could think of fewer places for spies to hear them, or passer-by's who might listen in on this 'important matter'.

"I am trying to guess the importance of this secrecy, did the Night King pass the Wall? Are we in danger of losing?" He asked the two, Jon shook his head making his theories meaningless.

"Bran was discovered, he had arrived at Winterfell sometime ago, your Grace." That's great news, something to be celebrated for when they arrive in the North as well. "This isn't about the Night King... It's about our family." Just then his smile faded for a second, and Ser Jorah and Barristan had entered the dungeon and walked to his side.

"'Our' Family?... What are you talking about, Lord Stark?" He questioned and added Jon's title at the end, not understanding what was being spoken about.

Samwell looked through that book he was carrying and carefully approached him as Jon continued speaking, "I had discovered that I am not my father's bastard son, nor am I any son of some random woman." Daeron looked at the pages and began to read. "Years ago, just a month before the Rebellion began, Lyanna Stark was kidnapped by your brother, Rhaegar Targaryen. It's a lie, they loved one another, they fled and married in secret at the Tower of Joy." His hand and body tensed, putting the many pieces together.

Daeron took a step back and really looked at Jon, then it all became so quiet that only bits of wind and rodents could be heard, and the crackling of the torches lit around them.

"You were the fruit of my brother's foolishness? Your mother's taking was the catalyst that nearly destroyed my House." Samwell tried to interject, correcting by saying 'their' family. "If you value your tongue, you'll be quiet." He cut the book reader off and took a deep breath.

Jon shifted uncomfortably. "I am Jon Snow- Jon Targaryen, you're my uncle despite my being a year older than you." Yes, that might be true.

"You are also the heir to the Iron Throne, as Rhaegar's last surviving son." He uttered and Jon's face fell before the Lord of Winterfell dropped to his knee with his head down.

"I don't have any desire for the crown, I won't ever challenge you." He believes that, he truly does but the future is unknown and they don't know what might or might not happen after the Night King is defeated.

"But what about your children, or theirs or their grandchildren after them? What's to keep the peace when your descendants decide they'd rather be the King than their cousins? The future cannot be determined." He said and felt the darker thoughts swirl about his head, ashamed to give them voice or command.

Jon's newfound heritage leaves much to be afraid of, he's read books on the Blackfyre Rebellions and the Dance of the Dragons before that to not ignore the threat Jon's bloodline will cause to his legacy.

All it takes is one powerful moment, or one corrupt Lord to say the right thing to push Jon's children or grandchildren to fight his family.

Barristan cleared his throat to speak, must have seen and determined what he was thinking. "There are ways to safeguard the Realms stability, your Grace." He gestured for the man to continue, "I advise the secret remains hidden, taken with us to our graves." Not a bad idea, it would quickly solve this problem without bloodshed.

"I agree. Jon Stark, rise." He commanded and the White Wolf did so. "The five of us will take your heritage to the afterlife, Rhaegar nearly ruined our House... We cannot let him do so again, yes?" He felt bad, seeing the dejected look in Jon's eyes.

After so long of being a bastard, finding out you were not just trueborn but the heir to the seat of all Westeros. "That doesn't mean we can't be family to one another, we're more than nephew and uncle, we're brothers united in my marriage to Sansa." He embraced Jon, not just as a friend but as a true family.

Dany would have loved to meet you, too long had we thought all family was dead. Daeron pulled away and nodded, "It's still quite in the early hours, we shall break our fast... Then we prepare the army." He and the others then left the hall, putting out the many torches along the way.

Unnoticed by them, what they couldn't see was the silhouette of a man hearing them speak.

Jaime 

The sun was finally over the entire city, and the camps belonging to the thousands of soldiers that weren't either brought into the city or sent to Harrenhal where the other half of the army awaits, Jaime sighed and looked into a mirror and outfitted with his new armor.

It resembled that of Aery's Kingsguard, making the memories flash in his mind.

The only difference is that the dragon is red, still a much better-looking suit than what Robert thought up during his first few months as King of Westeros.

"I hope the measurements were spot on, the old royal smiths were killed in the riots during the battle." He turned and nodded at Tyrion, the Hand of the King's pin shining proudly on his breast, and had a haircut with his beard trimmed a bit.

"Did his grace have your's done when he named you his right hand?" A sour joke, especially since his brother looks like their father if he were born a dwarf. "I despise the thought of going to the North again, and this time it's in Winter... I don't know if I have enough furs." He wondered and Tyrion chuckled and approached.

"I'm sure you can find some ways to keep yourself warm, a certain tall Lady wouldn't mind." He scoffed at his brother, shaking his head and reaching for his cup and drinking its contents.

"Brienne and Pod are staying here with the Queen, or should I say sister considering you two were married?" His brother laughed slightly with a nervous finger scratching his cheek.

"We never consummated so that's sort of repeat is off the table... " Jaime lost his smile and frowned, remembering all that they've lost and what little they gained in righting all these wrongs.

Trying to forget the past, Tyrion returned to the matter of Brienne. "Lady Brienne's recent acceptance into Sansa's Household has made protecting the North from the dead part of her duties, so she has volunteered to be a commander in Harry Strictland's vanguard force." Ah, he almost forgot the elephants, the Golden Company certainly made these harder during the last war.

Suddenly things became so quiet, the realization that this might be the last time they speak to one another as he might not make it past the next few months or more when they finally meet the Night King's army.

"If this is to be the last time we speak, brother... I'm happy that we made it here, despite my wishing we'd won." Tyrion shook his head, not so sure that they would've survived even if Cersei emerged victoriously.

"Even if by some miracle Cersei overcame the tens of thousands of Daeron's forces and his dragons, Jon Snow would kill you all- And if by the grace of the Seven should you two defeat Jon... The Dead would have left King's Landing and all your bones in the snows." When his brother says it like that, he could realize his family had no chance.

Their father was the head of the brilliance in House Lannister, without him they were nothing... Except for Tyrion.

"I'm glad you are leading our House, brother. Or should I say, Lord Lannister."

Tyrion smiled sincerely, embracing him for what might be the last time they see one another.

Sansa

Arya was as frustrating as ever.

"I don't want you to go North to fight."

"You can't tell me what to do anymore!"

"Yes I can, I am your elder and your Queen."

It was like this since she heard her sister was going to fight the Night King and its army, Arya's intent on fighting with the men is reaching her last nerve.

The young Queen was finally reunited with her family, she knew Jon had to leave to lead the North but she was hoping Arya would stay in the capital, and hopefully, Bran would join them after Daeron reaches Winterfell as her little brother is crippled which meant he'd be ill-fitted to fight.

Ah, another reason Arya wants to march with the others. Does she not think I didn't want to ride with? All this time I thought our little brother was dead. When Daeron informed her of the news, she cried out of joy whilst thanking the gods for their small mercy on her House.

Brienne opened the door for her sister who left, not wishing to argue the matter further with her.

"Your Grace. May I speak freely?" Her bodyguard asked and she nodded, staring at the woman with half of her face. "Your sister has much of myself in her spirit, like her, I wanted- And did, go down a warrior's path." Yes, it's something she and her father saw all of them years ago, and when she and Joffrey came upon her and Mycah practicing swordplay.

"Are pleading her case? You want me to let her go?" She asked her guard, the taller woman pondered for a moment before kneeling and unsheathing her sword.

Oathkeeper, one half of her father's sword, Ice. The second half, Widows Wail now named Vengeful is armed by Arya- Fitting as the blade is smaller and is a fine replacement for her sister's blade 'Needle'.

She let Brienne keep Oathkeeper as a further reward, and to protect her children against future threats.

"No, you're majesty. I mean to volunteer to serve as Lady Stark's second and protector." She smiled as Brienne continued on. "Your mother charged me to serve and protect her daughters, I would be failing her wish if Arya were to fall when I could've stopped it." She wished she had met this woman before her father's fall, her mother sure knew when to choose her protectors.

Having her guard rise to her feet, Sansa admired her fierceness. "Then I ask you to protect her as fiercely as you are loyal."

Barristan 

Daario invited him, Jorah, Rhakaro, Kovarro, and Commander Grey Worm to the once lavish brothel of Petyr Baelish. If not for the place becoming an inn and place to drink he would have refused but here they are.

The building still had scars from the place being attacked from the siege, and etchings of the Seven-Pointed Star drawn on the walls from when the Sparrows took control of the city. The smell of body oils, too, King Robert sure enjoyed the whores from here. Barristan was shamed, ofter getting drug here by his Grace.

"I don't like being brought here, Daario. His grace has commanded us to gather in an hour." He said and the former Mercenary waved his urgings off, causing him to groan in frustration.

Clearly, these short few months as a Lord's gone to the boy's head.

Daario led them to the top floor where a few serving girls and the other leaders of Daario's band were seated, the new Lord of Darry gestured for the girls to serve them all drinks. He took his, though he didn't intend to drink from it.

"What're we all doing here?" The newly made Lord asked them all before continuing. "His Majesty's new advisors and friends are becoming closer and closer... Yet let us not forget those who brought him here, who fought at his side far longer than others have, I asked you all here to raise a toast to those warriors who cannot be here, today, those who lost or gave everything... And to the Lady Missandei of Naath." He never thought he'd hear her name again, and the shame fell over him all over again.

Everyone in the hall raised their cups, Jorah uttered out another toast. "And to the Khaleesi, and her unborn child." Kovarro and Rhakaro made another toast in their language, honoring Drogo- Their first leader.

Clearing his throat, he'd make a toast of his own and feel the pride to have righted a great wrong in his life. I would like to toast to Rhaegar and Rhaella Targaryen! I hope to have redeemed myself from turning from duty." The room shared in his risen cups and the hour would pass before the six of them remembered that there was a meeting to attend to.

Daeron was disappointed and reprimanded them for wasting time, precious as the final battles inch closer and closer.

For that, the six of them and Daario's men plus some from Grey Worm's Unsullied were given the task of moving and guarding the food and supplies, while Daario and the two Dothraki grumbled a yes, himself, Jorah, and Grey Worm humbly accepted the duty before seating themselves at the table.

PoV Change

The positions in the grand forces were chosen, plans for the events of defeat were discussed and agreed upon and when midday came the King rose from his seat.

"Thanks to Jon Stark, we know much about our enemy. We will march at night and when we find this Night King... We will kill him."

The moon was full when Daeron entered the dragonpit, Vaelaeris and Daegon rose their head and dressed in their protective armor forged shortly after he took the city.

As for himself, he had Wildfyre's thick skin torn and scales taken to make something like a suit of mail, over it is a black and red breastplate one can compare to the late Prince Rhaegar's- Minus the rubies, he had to tell them twice not to add rubies when they were making the battle attire.

Daegon lowered his head to him, peering into his soul. "He's still with us, they're all still with us... Even Viserys, and father." Enough with the speaking, he mounted his dragon and put on his helm.

The shriek of Daegon and Vaeleris was the signal as what looked like a thousand torches began moving on the Kingsroad, each man petrified about fighting the undead but determined to defend their home from more death and destruction.

This is the last war, it will decide their fates.