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Plot: For nearly three centuries, the Alleryons of Starfyre Hall have ruled The north-west coast of the Westerlands. During this time, they have sworn loyal fealty to House Targaryen and House Lannister. Now the dragons are gone from Westeros, save one. Will the western Stallion remain loyal to the Baratheons who hate them? Or will a new family rise to prominence in the game of thrones?

Pairing: OCxDaenerys

1 – Starfyre Hall

John Alleryon, head of his house and lord of Starfyre hall sat in his solar with his wife, Ceryse, and her father, his liege lord, Tywin Lannister, lord of nearby Casterly Rock, and Warden of the west, along with other titles. Lannister was speaking now. They were discussing the current state of the realm, and what it would mean for their houses and their family.

"The crown is millions of dragons in debt to both the Westerlands and to the Iron Bank. To confound issues, the King's hand, Jon Arryn, is dead. Robert and his court ride north. Baratheon will ask your brother's old friend Stark to take the office."

The two Alleryons glanced at one another. Robert appointing Ned as his new hand would only widen the divide between the Royal couple. It was no secret that Cersei Lannister, Ceryse's younger sister, despised the Starks, and all they represented. Ceryse knew that her sister's loathing would be better placed with her royal husband. Cersei had once revealed to her what had occurred upon her wedding knight. Upon the hour of their bedding, Robert, drunk already had whispered sweetly in her ear The one name the younger Lannister sister never wanted to hear again.

Lyanna.

Lyanna Stark was the sister of Eddard Stark, current warden of the north, and Baratheon's best friend. And, she had been betrothed to Robert. That had all changed after her mysterious death in Dorne, allegedly after being rȧpėd by her supposed kidnapper, her lord husband's relative, prince Rhaegar Targaryen. For Ceryse, that didn't add up. The tales of the intelligent, good-natured, noble prince of Dragonstone, her former Betrothed, did not match up with the story of the kidnapper and rapist Stark and his supporters believed and spread. And, although she would never say this to him out loud, she would rather be kidnapped then marry her sister's husband. Ceryse suspected that Lyanna stark had been of the same mind.

Tywin Lannister waited for the lord and lady before him to make their reply. It was his daughter who voiced the couple's thoughts. "If Stark accepts the office, it will only serve to widen the gaping divides at court, father". The warden of the west nodded at his eldest child. His own thoughts had been running in the same direction as hers. Turning around to address his the other occupant in the room, he spoke to his Grandson.

"What do you make of these matters, Daeron?" Tywin Lannister had a great deal of respect for the young man before him, respect that man three times his ten-and-six name days could not boast of. The lad was a gifted warrior, but was also a keen scholar, loved reading, and was fiercely intelligent. Glancing at his parents for a moment, Daeron Alleryon ran three fingers through the shoulder length silver hair he shared with his foster-sister and all the members of his father's house, bar one, before turning to regard his grandfather. The boy sighed slightly. A habit he had picked up on recently.

"The appointment of Lord Stark will create problems, no doubt. Yours may be the strongest house, but Stark has no love of our family. Soon enough, Lannisters and other Westermen will be looked over for royal offices. The king's own derision for anything remotely Lannister OR Targaryen is also no secret. If not for the fact that my aunt is queen, our houses would have fallen from Royal favour the day Robert Baratheon took the Iron Throne". The young man stopped speaking, leaning back with his hand on his sword. He poured himself a drink of water from a nearby jug. John smiled proudly at his son and heir's well-thought out response. Tywin nodded at the young man. He was, of course, correct. Robert hated the Lannisters. But Daeron's response proved one thing. It proved he was thinking ahead. Robert Baratheon made no secret of the fact that he despised both sides of Daerom's family tree. Daeron's foresight was vital as, as he well knew, he would one day rule as both lord of Starfyre hall and Casterly Rock. Tywin had no intention of leaving the Rock to his despised youngest son, and no other male heir existed besides his brothers. Daeron was the best choice of heir. The boy knew all this, and knew that Robert would one day find himself owing a great deal of wealth to a man he despised more than any other Lannister, simply for who he was descended from on his father's side. "And, how would you counsel us on this matter, son?" John inquired of his son. The boy glanced at Tywin before turning to look his father in the eye.

"A subtle show of strength. Since the Greyjoy rebellion, Western forces have been mostly forgotten by the crown. Now Robert and his court march north. We should send a Lannister Procession to meet them before they get there. It is time we should remind his grace that the Starks are not the only powerful house in Westeros besides his own. Those in the room nodded their approval at his words, his parents recognising that the young knight had become a man. Tywin turned to his heir. The old man agreed to send a procession, telling the knight that he would lead it in his lord grandfather's stead, as the official heir to the lands of the west.

Tywin strode from the solar, heading for the stables. He would return to his own seat to prepare the western forces to march. John Alleryon glanced at his wife and their heir.

"Daeron, escort your mother to the dining hall so she might break her fast with your younger siblings, then fetch your older sisters, as well as your foster-sister. The three of them will travel with you to Winterfell".The young knight nodded, before taking his mother's arm, and leading escorting her ceremoniously from his father's solar.

Ceryse

Ceryse smiled at her eldest as he walked with her through the halls. He, of all four of her children was the most to look like his famous ancestor, Aegon the first. His Blonde hair ran to his neck, as Aegon's was said to have done. Intelligent, lilac eyes gazed intently before them as they walked. Her son rarely spoke, but it did not matter. The silence was comfortable for both of them. Like his Targaryen forbears, Daeron had high cheek bones, and a proud, regal baring. He looked like a king or dragon lord of old, and he had the manner of one as well. Of all her four children, her oldest had taken after his father's family the most. His younger brother,Lucarion had the looks, but the temperament of her family, and her green eyes. His twin sisters, the youngest, were both Lannisters through and through. Golden hair, Green eyes and with her sister's respect for wealth and power. Fortunately, they were kind, unlike Cersei. Daeron, her oldest, would always be her favourite. But, he was an enigma to her. Of course, she knew most of his quirks. Knew he despised injustice. Knew he loved her and his sisters, and respected his father and hers, yet despised most of the rest of his Alleryon relatives, although (in most cases), he hid it well. She knew her son was a gifted warrior. A fine archer and gifted swordsman, like the oldest of her brothers. Understood he loved books, but not where that love came from, if not Tyrion, who he rarely saw.

And yet, despite his many fine qualities, her son had never had any women in his life. She knew he liked women; she had seen him glance twice at many beautiful maidens. And yet, he had made no efforts towards romance. Deep down, Ceryse knew her fears were unfounded. He had plenty of time for that. His father had ruled their lands long and wisely, and would continue to do so for years to come. There was no need for Daeron to wed at this time. All the same, with all his strange habits and other factors about him, she understood why many in the Westerlands said he was just as much an enigma as Aegon the Conqueror, his famous namesake. Her son was proud, and a skilled swordsman and archer. He was however, hopeless with a spear. This amused the Starfyre Sea Wardens and Starfyre Hall Guardians to no end. The Wardens and the Guardians were her husband's elite forces. The Wardens had been created two and a half centuries ago, to guard the coasts against iron born raiders. The wardens fought in tight ranks, trained with both spear and bow. They wore gray, white and blue armour and helms, with white shields engraved with the symbols of the houses they served. These included House Alleryon and their Bannermen. The guardians were of a more recent vintage. They had been founded when her lord husband, impressed by their performance on a visit to Essos, purchased and freed two thousand unsullied and shipped them back to fight for him in Westeros. More had since joined their ranks; Criminals. Rapists, murderers, thieves. All had been gelded and trained ruthlessly. Though not as skilled as their unsullied counterparts, these so-called 'Westerosi unsullied' had proven themselves able in the Greyjoy rebellion. John said they would prove to be especially effective against cavalry units. They were trained to fight with spears and shields, to create a thicket of spears and shields for an enemy force to fall upon. Her husband and father believed these forces would give the west a distinct advantage in any conflict. She preyed that Daeron and her other children never found themselves in such a conflict. She had lived through two. Both had been terrifying.

Ceryse sighed as she recalled the horrific events of the Greyjoy rebellion. She and the children had been moved to Casterly Rock to escape the potential attack on Starfyre Hall, as one of the closest settlements in the Westerlands to the Iron Islands. One night, with John and father away fighting in the Islands, she had been roused from her slumber by the tolling of the warning bells. Listening for a moment she had sat up. She slipped from her chambers, hurrying through the vast halls of the rock towards the defenses. Reaching the wall, she gazed out towards the sea. Ten Ironborn long ships had come ashore. Archers fired down upon the invaders from either side of her. Unfortunately for the defenders, her husband and father had taken all the real soldiers to the islands with them, along with the king and Ned Stark. All that remained were old men and boys. Yet, despite this disadvantage, they appeared to have The Ironborn in retreat. She heard a shout, and glanced down over the walls. What she saw both explained the fleeing state of the islanders, and filled her heart with dread. There, leading a sortie against the enemies, was her seven year old son. Daeron shouted to his

'soldiers', urging them on.

"That's it men, for the Rock!, we've got them on the run. What did I tell you? No courage on land!" He stood just behind his men, sheathing his sword and drawing his bow. He knocked an arrow to the string, and fired. Ceryse watched with pride as her son's shot found its mark, piercing the leg of the commander of the Greyjoy forces, and dropping him to the ground. Two of his men, wrenched him to his feet, and he turned to glare at her boy. Only then did she recognise him. Victarion Greyjoy, commander of the Iron Fleet, and 'king' Balon's own brother. That shot ensured that Victarion never walked without a limp again, earned her eldest the enmity of the captain of the Iron Fleet, and his entire family, and earned him the name 'Archer Of The Rock'. Tywin Lannister had been most proud to learn that his eldest grandson had shown his mettle at such a young age, and with such untrained rabble to support him. He had saved his grandfather's seat.

Daeron stopped walking, and turned to her, kissing her hand. They had reached the dining hall. She pulled him into a hug. Stunned, he slowly, uncomfortably returned the hug. She sighed. What was her boy's problem with intimacy? They pulled apart. He smiled, kissed her cheek, and left the hall. No doubt to find his older siblings and foster-sister, so that they could leave for the North. And Winterfell. Ceryse Alleryon turned to meet her youngest children to break her fast with them, and put her mind off her eldest leaving her for some time.

Daenerys

Daenerys, or Danny as her foster family called her, gazed out her window across the courtyard of Starfyre hall. She smiled at the thought of her home. For Starfyre hall had been just that for as long as she could remember home. With her foster-parents, John and Ceryse, John's daughters, Melissa and Bethany, and the children of John and Ceryse; Daeron, her protective elder brother, stern and proud, who many whispered was more Targaryen then she. Lucarion, who shared their silver-gold hair and high cheekbones, but with green Lannister eyes, and the cunning of the Lions of the Rock to boot. Then there were the twins; sweat and innocent, their youthful expressions seemed so irreconcilable from those of their Lannister family, like Tywin Lannister and his brood, who always seemed to be making some new plan. Starfyre hall had been built with the township of Starfyre situated all around it. The 'town' had grown to become the fourth largest city in Westeros, just behind nearby Lannisport and larger then Gulltown. High walls surrounded the city. Ships passed in and out of the harbour, and by land, carts brought gold from Castamere, Tarbeck hall (renamed Jackson's Hall) and the Spyre, all seats of the bannermen of her foster-parents. Gold and trade had made John Alleryon and his family the second wealthiest in Westeros, second only to the Lannisters. Her entire life, Danny had known to fear Tywin Lannister. She knew the only reason she was alive was because king Robert trusted lord Tywin to keep an eye on her. If he deemed her to be a threat, there was nothing her family could do. Not that they would not die to defend her, however. Somehow, that thought made things worse. Still, Daenerys thought as she gazed over towards the Dragon tower, the crowning joy of Starfyre Hall, near the pier, there were perks to being raised as an Alleryon as well as a Targaryen. For one, she could marry for love. Few ladies had that luxury. Only she and the Alleryon daughters. A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. Turning from the windows, she strode towards her bedroom door. It opened to reveal Daeron standing on the other side. She smiled at him, and he returned the gesture, if half-heartedly.

"Morning Daer. What is it?"

His answer was as formal as they had been recently.

"We are riding for the Northern Riverlands to meet the kings procession. I am to represent my grandfather and the Westerlands, and my father wishes for you, Mels, and Bethany to accompany me". Daenerys smiled and nodded to her foster-brother, before gesturing for him to step out into the hall to wait for her to dress. He did as he was bid. Daenerys threw on a silver dress, and tied her hair back for a day of riding. Lastly went her riding boots. Once she was ready, the Targaryen heiress stepped from her chambers into the hall to greet her foster-siblings. She smiled at Melissa. Despite the fact that they had different parents, the two girls were essentially twins. Melissa and her younger sister Bethany were the daughters of lord John and his first Wife, Daelia Velaryon. Daelia had died, and John, needing a Male heir had remarried. When Daeron was born Mels, as they called her, was ecstatic. She viewed him as her 'baby brother', now 'big-little brother, on account of the fact he was taller then her. Bethany, who had hated Ceryse, had been far less so, seeing him and her other half-siblings as bastards, and declaring that she would never love them, or name them her kin. She treated Danny herself just as poorly. Whilst the relationship between John's oldest daughter and his oldest son was strong, there were some in the Westerlands, Daenerys had been told, who feared that civil war would erupt upon Daeron's succession between him and Bethany, so strong was their hatred for one another. As far as both were concerned, they were not related, and, although he still allowed her to share his roof until marriage, lord John had all but disinherited his second child. Danny herself, who saw the estranged siblings together, knew that the chances of civil war were indeed real. Daeron had discussed with her his intent to break with family tradition, and force his sister to marry a man of his choosing, or, better yet, force her into the life of the silent sisters.

The foursome strode from the halls, down to the castle courtyard. Daeron turned to Michael, his squire, ordering him to saddle their horses. Three hours later, she found herself surrounded protectively by Westermen as her foster-brother rode at the head of the vast procession, his shirt of black scales covered by his black surcoat. Upon the surcoat she knew, was engraved the sigil of his house, a silver stallion upon a black field. The Westerlands rolled past them as they rode, Melissa and Bethany on either side of her, as far away from one another as the ring of men around them would allow. They were on their way to meet the Lord of the seven kingdoms. The man who wanted her dead. Robert Baratheon, the usurper.

Daeron

'at the pace we are making, we should be able to head the royal court off just south of the twins.'

Daeron watched as the countryside rolled past them as they made their way through the Westerlands and through to the Riverlands. Before long, they would meet the king and his entourage on the road, as his aunt's wheelhouse slowed their pace. Daeron's sisters themselves and Daenerys all insisted on riding. That worked just fine for him though, as it allowed them to travel faster across the countryside. Like his parents, Daeron disliked such delays as those caused by wheelhouses. He preferred to get to where he was going as quick as possible. His Silver-blonde hair billowed in the breeze behind him. Above circled Maekor, his Pendric Eagle. It had become the custom of his family to tame the Eagles of the nearby hills as companions, scouts and message carriers. Maekor had been named for the founder of his house. Maekor Alleryon was the son of Rhaenyra, the daughter of Aegon the conqueror and his beloved sister Rhaenys. Upon his grandfather's death, Maekor had been granted what would become the seat of Starfyre Hall by his brother Aenys, the first of his name, in order to keep a watch on the Westerlands and to take advantage of their rich gold mines for the crown. During the time of the Targaryen kings, from Aenys down to Aerys the second of his name, Alleryon gold had been shared between the two houses. Until the rebellion. Daeron's father had made the choice to stand for what he thought to be right. He had called his banners, and rode for Casterly Rock, to discuss the matter with his liege lord, Tywin Lannister. The pair had decided to call their banners in support of Robert Baratheon and his fellow rebels. Lannister had elected to wait until after the Trident, but John Alleryon had rode out at the head of a host of ten thousand to represent the Westerlands on the field of battle. He had fought bravely, against Rhaegar, for a time, and against his own brother, who had supported the loyalist cause. The Trident had ended with John Alleryon a disgraced kinslayer, and an irreparable divide between John and his brother Geoffrey.

After the war, for his services, lord Alleryon convinced Robert Baratheon to spare the last Targaryen; Viserys had been ȧssassinated by Robert's supporters, trying to flee. Now, House Alleryon and Daenerys were in the same boat; the last remnants of a dying house. His father had stood for the realm against Targaryen tyranny, and Daeron's cousin Joffrey would one day sit the Iron Throne. Sometimes Daeron found himself wondering what things would have been like if his father had pushed his own claim. In many ways, his father's claim was stronger than Robert's. But the realm had not been ready to replace one Targaryen family with a Targaryen cadet branch. And so Robert was crowned. Daeron's thoughts turned to his foster sister. Daenerys seemed hurt by the formality with which he treated her in their recent dealings. It hurt him too. Growing up, the pair of 'young dragons' as his father's and grandfather's men had called them, had been inseparable. They did anything and everything together. And wherever one was, the other was never far away. But, last year, Daeron had noticed a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and in his ċhėst whenever Danny was near. After awhile, he decided he needed to put a name to these new feelings. He was too embarrassed to discuss them with either of his parents, and so went to the next best thing. His favourite uncle.

Tyrion Lannister was the smartest person Daeron knew. If there was anyone who would have an answer to his problem, it was the 'imp' of House Lannister. Telling his parents he was going to go riding down the coast, he made for Casterly Rock and Lannisport. There, he found his beloved uncle in his chambers reading. The dwarf had glanced up at his nephew's arrival. Smiling, he greeted him with a hug and questioning raise of the eyebrow. Returning the hug and taking the offered seat, Daeron told his uncle of his problem. Tyrion had laughed then, confusing Daeron. The young man had become angry, and began shouting, before his uncle calmed him down and explained why he was laughing. Daeron was in love. This realisation lead to some good-natured teasing from his uncle. Between japes, Tyrion inquired as to who it was who had captured his 'stoic nephew's' heart. Daeron replied, confessing his feelings were for Daenerys.

At that, Tyrion sobered suddenly. He lowered his gaze, before gently placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. Daeron looked at his short uncle, confused. What was the problem? Tyrion sighed, before looking his nephew straight in the eye before telling the young knight how sorry he was for him. Sorry? What was there to be sorry for? Tyrion lowered his gaze. He refused to speak. Daeron glared down at his uncle, and snapped at him to answer.

"Nothing can ever come of your feelings. The king would never allow it. Nor would my father". The imp explained to his nephew, whilst trying to make it as painless for them both as possible. Tyrion liked his eldest nephew. He had a great deal of respect for the lad, and hated to see him hurt. Once again, he lamented the cruelty of the world. How could it be fair that not everyone could marry for love? The dwarf had winced at the sudden memories of the time he had attempted to do just that.

Daeron closed his eyes at the pain of the memories of the conversation. He knew why it was Robert would never accept it. He would not see the union of the two branches of the Targaryen dynasty. He feared the political power that would unleash. And of course, there was another problem standing in his way. Daeron himself. Ever since discovering he had feelings for Danny, he had avoided the girl. After all, not only was it impossible for any sort of relationship to end happily, but he was simply not good enough for her. Or that was how he saw it. Danny was a sweat and innocent girl, with a kind, loving heart. Daeron himself had demons. He was a killer, a liar, and a terrible person in general. Daenerys deserved someone better than that. Someone who wasn't plagued by the things they had done in their life. Someone more worthy of her than him. Jacob of house Jackson, eldest son of one of his father's most trusted, bannerman, and a close friend of Daeron's, turned to regard him. Jacob's round face was framed with short blonde hair, and hazel eyes gazed concernedly out at him. "Are you feeling alright, Daer?"

Daeron smiled at his friend, and nodded.

"Just missing Tobias, Willem, and the others, is all," he lied, as he turned his head back towards the front. Jacob nodded accepting the answer.

"So, do you think his grace will be glad to see us?"

"Oh definitely".

Both boys chuckled at the shared sarcasm. Jacob was always good for a laugh, because he was rarely serious. A year younger then Daeron, he had yet to see combat, other than on the tourney field. He would make a knight one day though... of some description. Daeron snorted and shook his head. He had more pressing matters to worry about then his friends' futures. He turned to Jacob. "Give the order for the men to pick up the pace, would you?" The squire nodded, raising his horn to blow into it. With that, Daeron and his soldiers pushed their horses further. Daeron rose his arm. Like a bolt of lightning, Maekor swooped downwards, landing on his master's shoulder. The bird squawked, proudly dropping the corpse of the rat it had caught on his sleeve. Beside him, Jacob once more erupted into laughter. He smirked at his friend, chuckling all the while. "That there's an interesting new fashion statement, my Lord!" Around them, other men started to join in on the laughing. Daeron glared at his friend.

"I'll deal with you when we get to Winterfell". He promised, eyes piercing Jacob's like daggers. The squire gulped.

Daeron smiled as his scout gave a call. The royal column had been spotted just north-east of their position, making slow progress towards Moat Cailin. Daeron spurred his one thousand horsemen forwards. They would soon reach the king's host, and then, they would continue onto Winterfell, the seat of house Stark. He nodded to Jacob, who once more rose his horn before releasing a single, winding call, which reverberated across the countryside. The royal column ground to a halt as the knights, the king and his kingsguard twisted in their saddles to face the newcomers. Even from where they were, Daeron could hear Robert bellowing orders in his booming voice to those around him. A single Kingsguard knight rode out from the rest of the king's men towards them as a greeting. Daeron rose his hand. His forces came to a halt as they waited for the kingsguard knight to reach them.

Robert

They had been riding at the same grueling pace since setting out from the capitol. Robert snorted, thanks to that damned wheelhouse, they would never make it to Winterfell. If Robert had had his way, they wouldn't have brought the ridiculous contraption along with them. But Cersei had insisted. He ġrȯȧnėd as he recalled their latest argument on the topic.

"Seven hells, woman! If that thing breaks again, you can all get out and walk! I'll have it burnt!"

"And what of your children? Will you make them walk?" Cersei had hissed back at him, standing there screaming at him. Behind her, their oldest 'son', Joffrey, cowered from Robert. Robert sneered at them both.

"It would do your son some good to ride like a man, rather than hide behind his mother's skirts, like a little bitch". Joffrey bristled, but dared not speak back at his father. Robert turned to Sandor Clegane besides him as they rode. "Honestly, Clegane, I don't know what to do with that boy!"

The hound of house Clegane maintained his usual disinterested manner. "Far be it for me to advise your grace on children. After all, I have never found myself a father".

Robert found himself rolling his eyes at that. The same answer as usual. How was it that no bloody fool could tell him how to deal with his violent, half-wit pussƴ of a son?

" Alleryon." Robert muttered, angrily. He turned to his left, shouting orders.

"Kingslayer! Go greet your nephew!"

Jaime Lannister, for it was he that Robert had addressed, pushed his force into a gallop. He rode towards the other party, discussing something with the leaders. Eventually, he turned around, and rode back towards the king and his fellow knights.

Lannister came to a halt before Robert, next to him sat, on a white stallion, a tall figure of about fifteen or sixteen with silver-blonde hair that fell down to the nape of his neck. Rhaegar's purple eyes stared intently back at him. The image was completed by the shirt of black scales under the surcoat with the rearing silver stallion of his house. The young man slung out of the saddle of his horse without warning. Despite himself, Robert pulled his own horse back slightly. The young man bowed low before him, head facing the ground.

"Hail, Robert Baratheon, first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men,lord of the seven kingdoms, and protector of the realm. In the name of my father, John, of the house Alleryon, and my grandfather, Tywin of house Lannister, I, Daeron, heir to Starfyre Hall and Casterly Rock, place myself and these men at your disposal". Robert glared down at the kneeling figure at his feet. He had heard rumours from Varys that many in the Westerlands, the Reach and Dorne referred to him as 'Aegon the dragon come again'. And yet, as he stared down at the boy, gesturing for the him to stand, all he could see was hair that fell even longer, down to about shoulder length, and armour inset with a three-headed ruby dragon. 'Rhaegar' whispered a voice, unbidden, in Robert's head, before his vision changed to the armour crushed and the rubies gone. He shook his head to clear it of such thoughts.

"Any more dragonspawn with you boy?"

The boy bristled at the insult, before merely nodding and gesturing to the centre of his men. Three girls around the same age as him rode forwards. Two wore riding clothes with the same stallion stitched into the hem. The third wore a dress with a small three-headed dragon engraved on one side , near the neck. Robert's glare shifted to her.

"The former princess".

She ignored him. Unable to stomach the sight of them any more, Robert ordered them to the back of the procession, along with the Kingslayer and the imp. It would be a long ride to Winterfell.

That night, as they camped about half a day's ride from the Stark fortress of Winterfell, Robert glared at the Alleryon and Targaryen banners flying outside the tent of the newcomers. Cersei was inside the tent, along with that twin brother of hers, talking to her nieces and nephew. Tommon and Myrcella were in their own pavilion. He didn't particularly care where Joffrey was at the moment. If the boy had gone off somewhere, no doubt that dog of his was not far away from him. His heir would be fine. Robert had more pressing matters to deal with. Like the dragonspawn not far from his own sleeping quarters. He stormed over to the pavilion, shoving the flaps aside, he glared at the occupants. The Kingslayer and his nephew bowed low. The Targaryen former princess and the two Alleryon girls curtsied hastily. The only recognition he received from his wife was a nod of the head and "Robert, my love?"

Robert turned towards the boy on the tent floor. Snapping at him to rise, he stared into the purple eyes of the young man. The boy held Robert's gaze, not flinching once. The king found himself begrudgingly respecting his courage. If he intended to show no fear, than Robert would just have to make him feel some. Starting with this conversation.

"Why are you here, boy?"

The silver-blonde stared at Robert for a moment, before answering. The moment's delay in conversation gave the king the chance to evaluate his subject. He hated to admit, but Robert found himself thinking of the fact that most maidens would consider the boy to be handsome. Perhaps even more so than Robert's own heir. Although, unlike Joffrey, Daeron Alleryon's appeal was less feminine, and far more masculine in nature. Whereas Joffrey looked like a young girl in the clothing of a male, Daeron's muscles could be made out through his Black tunic, which had replaced his armour at some point during the evening. Robert's thoughts were interrupted by a voice. The dragonspawn was speaking again.

"My grandfather sent me here as the Westerlands' representative on your ride north, and potentially in the royal court. Tywin intends to make me the heir to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands"

.

Robert almost ġrȯȧnėd when he heard that. Despite whatever he wanted, he couldn't really stop the boy and his companions from accompanying them. Tywin Lannister, as the lord of a great house, had the right to be represented at court by a member of his house or his heir. If this boy was his heir, than Robert would have to resign himself to the fate of being surrounded by Valyrian ɨnċėstuous half-wits. As if he didn't already have enough to deal with with all of these Smug, blonde haired Lannister fools in the capitol. He had killed Rhaegar to ensure that he Wouldn't have to put up with Targaryens. That monster was gone, but every time he looked into this boy's eyes, he saw his old enemy standing there, grinning out at him from the seventh hell.

Robert turned and strode from the tent, storming through the camp site. If he had to deal with them being in the same vicinity, at least he did not have to be in the same room as them.

After Cersei dismissed herself, hugging her nieces and allowing her nephew to kiss her hand, the Alleryon sisters burst into laughter at the sight of Robert. Daeron, ever serious, glared at them. Inside, he too was amused, but also concerned. Concerned for his family, and for the realm.

'that's the 'king' my father fought Aerys for?' he thought, worried what would become of the country if it remained under Robert Baratheon's misrule. Beside him, Daenerys was shaking, not out of cold, or fear, but anger. He slipped an arm around her. Glancing up, she smiled. Then she frowned slightly, before grinning up at him.

"Your Uncle's a fool".

He blinked. What was she talking about? She had always gotten on well with his uncles. Or, at least with the ones she had met. Then, he realised what she meant. The king was his aunt's husband. Daeron shuddered at the thought of being related to Robert Baratheon. Even if it was only through marriage.

Chapter End