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The Dragons' Rebirth	By : StarLightMassacre Category: A through F > A Song of Ice and Fire Views: 40837 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or A Song of Ice and Fire; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and to George R.R. Martin respectfully. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 1-276AC
- 2-279AC
- 3-281AC
- 4-282AC
- 5-283AC to 284AC
- 6-306AC
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Warnings: Character death, Mpreg, bloody caesarean birth in explicit detail, breastfeeding.

Last Time

Harry smiled and he ignored Ser Oswell being present and he rested against Rhaegar, putting him on eye level with Rhaegon, so he could stay where he was and just trace the face of his son, memorise every line and curve. He loved his son so very much and it upset him to think that perhaps right now he would have had another one if he’d carried to seven turns again, as he had done for Rhaegon.
He sighed and pushed that from his mind. He couldn’t keep thinking in such a way or he was going to drive himself mad. He needed to move forward, he couldn’t keep thinking of the babe that he’d lost, he needed to concentrate on Rhaegon, on his new babe forming, not the one that he had cruelly lost thanks to the Kingswood Brotherhood or he’d never be happy again and he had far too much already to just throw it away as he looked upon his beautiful husband, Rhaegar, and their even more beautiful son, Rhaegon. He had far, far too much to just throw it away for a babe who had been taken from him before he’d even had a chance to hold them.
It had been cruel and heart wrenching and it always would be, but he refused to allow it to take away from what he already had, his Rhaegar, his Rhaegon and his new babe forming. That was what was important now, everything else would be pushed behind him. He smiled to himself as Rhaegar shifted and slipped an arm around him under the guise of getting comfortable as Rhaegon fell asleep on his chest. Harry sighed softly and shifted even closer to Rhaegar. Everything was going to be just fine, he had everything that he needed to make him happy right here and he was not going to throw that away, not because of the Brotherhood, not because of anything. It was time to move on and be happy.

Chapter Four – 282AC

Eddard ‘Ned’ Stark watched as his close friend, the Lord Robert Baratheon, stormed up and down the Great Hall of his ancient family seat of Storm’s End, silently fuming.
This had all started at the tourney of Harrenhal three turns before, when the crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, had given the pale blue, winter rose crown to his sister, and Robert’s betrothed, Lyanna, naming her as his Queen of Love and Beauty. Ever since that moment, Robert had been in an inconsolable rage and now three turns later, at the start of a new year, it was still eating away at him.
Ned had already had to stop Robert from striking the Prince, at the feast marking the end of the jousting just after he had crowned Lyanna. He had learnt later that Robert had tried to confront the Prince a second time at Harrenhal, but had thankfully been stopped by a member of the Kingsguard.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me from breaking that perfect nose.” Robert growled at him as he strode from one side of the hall to the other.

“You’re no use to anyone dead, Robert.” Ned said. “If you had struck Rhaegar then you would have been lucky to have just lost the hand that you’d hit him with. We both know of the horror stories circling the capital these days. King Aerys is burning people on a whim, if you’d hit his golden son, the heir to the Iron Throne, then he was like to have had you burnt alive as well!”

“It would have been worth it!”

“No it wouldn’t have.” Ned said, thoroughly frustrated with his hot headed friend, who couldn’t see past the vengeful gratification of hurting Prince Rhaegar. “You need to think things through more, Robert. Trying to do harm to Prince Rhaegar is only going to get you killed. We have to do things properly. We must seek recompense from King Aerys for what his son has done.”

“It’s not enough, Ned!” Robert raged. “I want his head!”

“You are not like to get it!” Ned snapped back. “You cannot ask the Mad King for his favourite son’s head! You are more like to lose your own!”

“I cannot allow this insult to slide. Lyanna is my betrothed! Mine, not his!”

Eddard sighed and touched his forehead. He dared not tell Robert that Lyanna was talking of breaking her betrothal to him. So that she was unattached and, in her own words, ready to leave as soon as Prince Rhaegar came for her.
He, their brother Brandon, and their Father Rickard, had all told her that that was not going to happen. Prince Rhaegar was not going to come for her, they knew it, but Lyanna could not see it. They three had hoped that Rhaegar’s, very lavish, very public, marriage to Princess Elia of Dorne two turns ago, just after the tourney of Harrenhal, would have allayed her desires, but there was no such luck. Lyanna was convinced that Rhaegar Targaryen was in love with her and was going to marry her after she’d overheard part of a conversation at Harrenhal between the two oldest Princes, she swore on the heart tree that she had heard Rhaegar say that he loved another and thus would never love Elia of Dorne and that he wouldn’t have chosen to marry her if he’d had a choice in the matter. Not even the news that Elia was now pregnant with Rhaegar’s first child had stemmed her thoughts or conviction that Rhaegar was going to come for her.
It had not helped matters settle down that, at the weeklong feast celebrating the first name day of Prince Haradarian’s son, Prince Rhaegon, Prince Rhaegar had barely looked at his newly married, newly pregnant wife. Instead he had spent the celebrations entirely with his brother and Nephew, barking at anyone who so much as jostled his younger brother and acting more like a sworn shield than even the most protective of older brothers.
By all accounts coming from those in the capital Prince Haradarian was soft and sweet, easy to laugh and endlessly patient, more a maiden than a knight and Ned had seen that for himself at Harrenhal when the younger Prince had been contented to sit and eat with his baby son rather than take part in the tourney, and particularly with the way that Prince Rhaegar treated him, always hovering over him, fetching things for him or dogging his steps like a sworn shield, but Haradarian was also the most fair and just of the royal family. He had ruled Kings Landing strongly and firmly for six turns, when he was just a boy of two-and-ten when Ned himself didn’t feel comfortable with the thought of running Winterfell alone at eight-and-ten, without having the responsibility of all the Seven Kingdoms on his shoulders, but Prince Haradarian had done such an amazing job that he had earned himself the epithet Haradarian the Heart from those in Kings Landing, which had rapidly spread through the rest of the realm. But more than merely earning an epithet for himself, he had won the respect of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms, including Ned’s own Father, Rickard, who wanted to pass over Prince Rhaegar and give the Iron Throne straight to Haradarian, as the Lord Stark saw him as what was best for the Seven Kingdoms.
Ned had felt the same, until the tourney at Harrenhal and he had met the most beautiful woman in the world. Lady Ashara Dayne. He had danced with her, laughed with her and he had fallen in love with her. Only for it to be announced at the end of the tourney that she was to be married to Prince Haradarian.
He had then noticed what he had been too blinded by his new love to see, how she always looked at Prince Haradarian, how she smiled her best smile just for him, how Haradarian’s infant son, Rhaegon, ran to her and liked to be carried by her, but he had foolishly ignored such signs and fallen for her regardless. He would have had her right there at Harrenhal if not for the maddening fact that she was always with Prince Haradarian, who was always shadowed by a member of the Kingsguard. He now knew that that was because they were betrothed together and his heart had never felt so broken as it had at that moment.

“We need to kill them, all of them.” Robert seethed, interrupting Eddard’s brooding.

“You speak of treason.” Ned told him tiredly.

“Not if we kill them all and supplant them!” Robert said fervently.

“Now you really are speaking of treason, Robert. Nothing good can come of this.”

“Something needs to be done, Ned!” Robert enthused passionately. “Those Targaryens are all unhinged. How much more of the Mad King’s rein are we to bear? How many more people does he have to burn? Innocent people, Ned! Men, women and even children, all fed to the flames for his sick amusement as his sons cheer him on as they watch!”

Ned had no comeback for that and his silence seemed to feed Robert’s desire for war as he started talking about calling in his banners and calling on friends and even those who were not friends of his but were enemies of the Targaryens.

“We are speaking of treason, Robert.”

“Oh, change the tune, Ned! This is the right thing to do. The Seven Kingdoms have been ruled by the Targaryens for three centuries now, it is time for a change. All of them need to die, every last one of them.”

“You are taking about killing babes, Robert!” Ned said angrily. “Prince Haradarian has a year old babe and Elia Martell is pregnant.”

“All of them, Ned.” Robert said lowly. “Every last Targaryen so that they can never come back. We do to them as they did to the Darklyns.”

“If you go through with that then you will be no better than the Mad King! You are trying to convince me to remove him from the throne because he is burning innocent people, including children, yet you wish to take the throne by killing innocent babes, Robert!”

“They’re not innocent, they’re Targaryens! They all have poisoned blood! They all turn out like the Mad King in the end. They all have the blood of Maegor the Cruel, Aerion the Monstrous and Aerys the Mad running through their veins! It has to end, Ned! They have to be stopped.”

“We will seek recompense first, so that we are seen to be doing the right thing. If we are refused, then we have to convince a lot of people that our cause is just.”

“It is just!”

“You are going to kill an entire family and end the Targaryen line, because Prince Rhaegar handed my sister a winter rose crown at a tourney.” Ned reasoned.

“Damn it, Ned, you are either with me or against me! Those Targaryens have sat the throne for centuries and what have they brought us? What does the Mad King do for us?”

“He is but one man, Robert. The smallfolk aren’t going to be endeared to you if you kill babes and their favourite Princes.”

“No, but if I don’t kill them personally…” Robert trailed off suggestively.

Eddard nodded. “I’ll speak to my Father and we can convince him to seek recompense from King Aerys, I just hope that it doesn’t end with all of us being burnt alive.”

“We are no peasants.” Robert insisted. “I am a Lord, you are the Starks of Winterfell. He can’t burn us.”

Ned wasn’t so sure, he didn’t believe that King Aerys was that reasonable or just, madmen rarely cared about such trivial things as nobility or consequences of actions, but it wasn’t his place to answer in his Father’s stead. It was for his Father to accept or deny the action of seeking recompense from King Aerys for the behaviour of his son, Rhaegar.
He still wasn’t happy with the thought of killing babes. Prince Rhaegon was a year old, Elia Martell was pregnant with Prince Rhaegar’s first child and Prince Viserys was only a boy at five years old, soon to be six in just two turns, but he was still a boy who would just be learning how to hold a wooden practice sword.
If he could spare the babes, and the women too, he would not be against killing King Aerys and the Princes Rhaegar and Haradarian, but he didn’t see why the women and the babes had to be killed too, no matter how the adult men around them acted. Robert could argue that they all had bad blood about them, but not every Targaryen had been mad, not all of them had been cruel and only a few of them had been monstrous. They were tempered out by Baelor the Blessed, Baelor Breakspear, Jaehaerys the Wise, Aemon the Dragonknight, Daeron the Good and, if he were truly honest, by Haradarian the Heart.
There were a great deal more wise, just and honourable Targaryens than people cared to remember, because the ones that turned out bad, were so terrible and horrific that they took over people’s minds until they forgot about all the good and focused only on the bad. It was a great deal worse when one of the living royal family were one of the bad ones and doubly so when that family member was the King and that was what was happening as they watched. King Aerys the Mad had the throne and suddenly all anyone could remember was Maegor the Cruel, Aerion the Monstrous and Aegon the Unworthy who was the sire of the bastard Blackfyres and the cause of the rebellion as the Blackfyres tried to take the Iron Throne from the legitimate side of the Targaryen family for themselves.
Ned sighed and touched his forehead. He would rather things didn’t come to a war, that another rebellion, Robert’s rebellion, did not get started. But for all that he could see how a rebellion would bleed the Seven Kingdoms, he could also see that King Aerys was not going to surrender Rhaegar for just punishment of his ill thought actions. He was more like to laugh in their faces and send them on their way, but if they caught him in one of his unreasonable, irrational moments, which by all accounts was getting more and more often of late, then they were like to be hailed as traitors to the crown for saying even one word against Prince Rhaegar and then they would be fed to the flames.
This was not going to end well for any of them and good men would die and all because Prince Rhaegar had handed his sister and Robert’s betrothed, Lyanna Stark, a winter rose crown at a tourney.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry fussed over his, now one year old, babe as Rhaegon giggled and fought against the boots that Harry was trying to put on his feet. At sixteen turns old, Rhaegon was big, loud and very boisterous and he liked kicking.
Harry was seven turns pregnant and he was showing, rather a lot. He was bigger than he’d been with Rhaegon and he had birthed his son at this time sixteen turns ago. He was worried that he would give birth too soon.
Rhaegar had married Elia in a very public, very lavish affair after they’d come back from Harrenhal, the week before Rhaegon had turned a year old. They were playing that Elia was pregnant and had fallen pregnant on her wedding night, but she would only be four turns, he needed to hold on to nine turns, so that Elia could claim seven turns. If he birthed any sooner than that then their farce could come crumbling down and they might very well be caught out.
He was already agitated, as he was marrying Ashara today. He didn’t need to fight with his son on top of that as he got Rhaegon into a very smart doublet of fine wool and warm wool breeches. He left the boots off for now, as Rhaegon really didn’t want to wear them and he was getting exhausted just trying to get them onto his son’s feet. He was seven turns pregnant and he couldn’t be dealing with one of Rhaegon’s fits, he would hand his son, and the new boots, over to Rhaegar to deal with.
He instead attached the tiny cloak, proudly displaying the Targaryen three headed dragon, to the back of Rhaegon’s doublet before he picked up his son and carried him, and the boots, out of his bed chambers and to the royal solar, where he was to break his fast with his family while Ashara’s handmaiden’s got her ready for her wedding day.

“You look stressed, darling.” His Mother fretted.

“Ashara is a good match, even if she is Dornish.” His Father told him with a scrunched face as if he’d smelled something foul.

“It’s not that.” Harry sighed. “Rhaegon won’t wear his new boots. He wants to stay in his socks.”

Rhaegar sighed too. “You have enough to do and prepare for today, pass him to me.”

Harry happily hefted their son over to his Father and he felt a fleeting touch to his large belly from Rhaegar. He smiled as he passed over the tiny pair of well-made boots.

“No, Da.” Rhaegon complained as Rhaegar sat him down on his lap and tried to slide one boot on to a kicking foot.

“Wear your boots.” Harry told him sternly.

“No!”

“You’re wearing those boots.” Harry said, not brooking any argument from Rhaegon, who tried to stare Harry out, then he tried crying and thrashing, but Rhaegar held him firmly and silently through his tantrum. Once he was tired out and still didn’t have his own way he gave in. He sat quiet, sniffling, as his Father pulled on both of the new boots and laced them up.

Harry had finished breaking his fast on bread, honey and fruit and he was drinking a cup of water by the time that Rhaegon had had his fit and Rhaegar had laced up both tiny boots.

“You look so calm.” His Mother complimented him proudly. “So confident and collected. You wouldn’t think that you were getting married today.”

Harry smiled. “What is there to be nervous about, Mother? Ashara is amazing, beautiful and kind. She is a wonderful, perfect woman and I couldn’t have hoped for a better match nor for a better stand-in Mother for Rhaegon. She’s wonderful with him and that was the most important thing to me.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want a traditional bedding?” His Mother asked him yet again. She had been trying to coax him into having one ever since he had declared that he wasn’t having one a week before. He had since regretted letting her have so much time to harry and hassle him over the matter.

“I am very, very sure. Why would I want other men looking at and touching my Wife?” He demanded. “It’s an archaic, ridiculous tradition and I want no part of it.”

“You were happy for your brother to have a bedding.” His Mother tried. “You even carried Princess Elia to his bed.”

Harry snorted, because he had carried Elia to Rhaegar’s wedding chamber that much was true, but she had left through a connecting door to the chambers next door shortly after Rhaegar had arrived, naked and surrounded by fawning, touching women, and hadn’t that offset Harry’s furious jealousy.
The people outside the door had been jibing and making ribald comments, calling out encouragements as they listened at the door, but they had had no idea that it had been Harry in that bed with Rhaegar that night, not Elia.
Tonight, it would be him and Rhaegar in his own wedding chamber, not Ashara. One wonderful thing about them both being married, and having connected wedding chambers, was that it was going to be so much easier for him and Rhaegar to sleep together. The girls were happy to bed in together, meaning that he, Rhaegar and Rhaegon could finally go back to sleeping in the same bedchamber as they had on Dragonstone and no one would be any the wiser.

“I won’t judge anyone else who wishes to have a bedding. I will not force my opinions or thoughts onto others, just because Rhaegar had a bedding, that was his choice. This is my wedding and my choice, I don’t want a bedding.”

He pressed a hand to his large belly under the table. He could just imagine the reaction of the wedding goers when they undressed him for his bedding and they saw his large, swollen belly. They already thought him overweight and lazy, he had heard the gossip and the snickers behind his back as he rounded out further and had needed to start wearing larger, looser fitting clothing. He was obviously pregnant now and he needed to be taking it easy, resting and putting his feet up, but he needed to be married to keep himself and his family safer.

“Well, how does Ashara feel?” His Mother asked him.

“Leave him be, Rhaella.” His Father commanded. “He doesn’t want a bedding, so he won’t have one. Who cares what the Dornish girl wants.”

Harry saw Ser Arthur shift, just slightly, behind his Father, who seemed to conveniently forget that Ashara was the sister of one of his most honoured guards and the most skilled knight of their time.

“She would rather not have a bedding either.” Harry put in mildly, ignoring his Father’s offensive outburst. “She believes that it exploits the married couple and she does not want anyone to lay hands on her. I don’t trust the guests not to slip her a hand while taking her to my bed. She is too beautiful and I won’t have it.”

“I wish that you would reconsider, my love. The people don’t like a break in tradition.”

“That is not my fault. If they cannot accept things and move along, as time does, how am I to be held responsible? I am not having a bedding, Mother. Ashara and I do not want one and Rhaegon will be in his cradle, in my marriage chambers. Do you think I should expose him to all of those people, shouting and jostling about? He’d be put in danger. He is my priority, Mother, not traditions that I do not hold as my own.”

“I could take…”

“No.” Harry said, knowing where this was going. “I have pushed him onto so many others in recent turns, I have had enough of being away from him. He is sleeping in my chambers from here on in and he will be in my chambers unless there is a necessary reason not to have him there. Ashara and I will consummate our marriage, but it will be a private event between just the both of us. That is the end of the matter, Mother. I will hear no more about it.”

He tried to calm himself down, knowing that it was his pregnancy that was causing him to be so impatient and short of temper. He had been the same with his pregnancy with Rhaegon and with the added stress of knowing that he had to carry for the full nine turns, it was making him very short and irritable.
He stood up and took Rhaegon from his Husband. He put the boy on the floor and took his hand, walking with slow, measured steps so that Rhaegon could keep up with him. He ignored Prince Lewyn behind him until they were in private.

“Mother’s madness?” Prince Lewyn asked quietly.

Harry sighed and nodded. “Yes. I just feel so unreasonably angry and very short of patience and temper. I can’t sit and reason with people all day anymore, I just cannot stop my temper from boiling over. I have absolutely no patience and arguing the same point repeatedly is tiresome in this condition. I am seven turns pregnant, I do not need this added, unneeded stress.”

“How…how is the growing babe?” Prince Lewyn asked.

He and Ser Arthur still could not believe that he and Rhaegar had been telling the truth about Rhaegon, but seeing his belly growing and swelling out with child was irrefutable proof that he had carried Rhaegon within his own body and that he was capable of doing so again. They could not claim that he and Rhaegar were not blessed by the gods now that they were witnessing their second child growing fast inside of him.
Of course the two Ladies were excited about the thought of a man sharing their pain of pregnancy and child birth and they very happily helped him on the rare occasions that Rhaegar was not present. They plumped up his cushions, fetched him drinks or food, dealt with Rhaegon, urged him to nap or sit down more often and Lady Ashara loved stroking his growing belly.

“This new babe is as boisterous as Rhaegon.” Harry complained. “I think this babe is fighting inside my womb with all the pain and movement it is causing me.”

Prince Lewyn chuckled. “Another boy, then.”

Harry laughed. Rhaegar had said the same, but with a lot more pride and happiness as he rested his ear on Harry’s belly, trying to listen to the babe inside of him.

“I just can’t believe how big this babe is growing. Look at the state of me! As if I could have had a fake bedding like Rhaegar did. As soon as these several layers of clothing come off, the people would run as quickly as they could in the opposite direction.”

Prince Lewyn placed a supportive hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry smiled as he kept an eye on Rhaegon, who had forgotten all about his tantrum over his brand new boots, in fact he didn’t seem to care that he was wearing them now, as he ran around and played with his toys.
Harry yawned and rested himself. He was not at all nervous, so he wasn’t up and pacing or fretting like most Husband’s-to-be, he wasn’t really getting married. He had already married the man he loved, so nothing else mattered. He was just going to rest until later that morning, when he would have to go to the Great Sept of Baelor, where he’d been born, and declare his intentions to marry Ashara when he was already married to Rhaegar.
He had already been to the godswood and to the Great Sept very early that morning, before day break, to pray to the gods, old and new, for their patience and acceptance. They knew that he was already married, that this was a waste of their time, but he reassured the gods that that wasn’t the case, that this was needed to keep him and his family safer and that he wasn’t forsaking his vows in any way. He just wanted to keep his family safer, it was all he wanted.
He yawned again, wiping his eyes from the moisture that had gathered there and he lay back with a sigh.

“I hope this all works out.” He said softly. “We’re in favour at the moment, how long until that changes?”

“Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened yet. You need to concentrate on this little guy until you’ve had him.” Prince Lewyn insisted, laying his hand over Harry’s swollen belly.

Harry smiled at his belly and rubbed it gently. “I’ve already carried him for longer than Rhaegon, I’m not sure how much longer I can carry on. It’s so painful.”

“You need to carry for as long as possible, my Prince.”

Harry nodded. “I know. But I don’t really have that much control over it.”

Prince Lewyn nodded his understanding.

“Just take things easy and try not to worry about anything. You need to rest all that you can now before the marriage.”

“Several hours on my already sore feet. I can hardly contain my excitement.” He answered sarcastically.

Prince Lewyn laughed at him and petted his hair. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

“It had better with the amount of effort that we’ve put in to covering it up. No one is even suspicious, no one has asked or commented on Rhaegon looking just like Ashara or Rhaegar even though the similarities are impossible to miss. I’m just thankful that he takes more after me.”

They both looked at Rhaegon, sitting down and playing, and Harry heaved a heavy sigh. He’d been doing that a lot more lately. He was seven-and-ten, a full grown man and he was expected to marry and have children, but the amount of worry and concern he felt for bringing children into this unstable situation was immensely overwhelming.
He wanted to protect Rhaegon by any means necessary, he wanted to protect his new babe just the same, but it was going to be insanely difficult with two of them to run around after, and with Rhaegon walking and talking now too, it was getting more and more difficult to explain away the things he said as just his young age or him not understanding, because he was understanding more now and he did know what he was saying when he called him Ma and Rhaegar Da. They needed to do something and quickly, before someone actually figured it out and told their Father. All of them would be in danger then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

The wedding was as long winded as Harry had feared it would be. He had only been three turns pregnant when he had attended Rhaegar in his false marriage to Elia, but he was seven turns pregnant for his own and only an hour into the ceremony, held at midday, and he felt like he needed to sit down, or perhaps have a nice long nap.
Rhaegon had kicked off not ten minutes into the ceremony and he had spent the rest of the time, through long hymns and longer prayers, perched on Harry’s hip, snuggling into his marriage cloak as a way to shut him up with Ashara tucked into his side, her own marriage cloak a bright purple, the white sword to represent the ancestral sword Dawn and the falling star of her ancestral seat, the sigil of her house draped across her back.
She looked stunning in a gown of pale lilac that brought out her stunning eyes. Her hair was coiffured into a beautiful, elegant design and her face was fresh with just a touch of lip colour. She was not overly adorned and she looked so beautiful that Harry knew, if he was not so in love with Rhaegar, then this would have been the woman he would have chosen to marry.
It mattered not now. He was so happy with Rhaegar, his beloved brother. He had Rhaegon, he had his new babe and they were married together. It had been two years now since they had married and they were more in love now than they had been in the beginning. He just wished that they were free to show that love in public, but they weren’t. Not just yet.
Rhaegon was sat in his lap, refusing to be put on his own chair or to go across to his ‘Uncle’, so Harry kept his little son with him as course after course of the massive, extravagant feast was laid out. He much preferred his marriage in front of the old gods and a heart tree, it was much more to his tastes. Simplistic, quick and with as few people as possible and with as little fuss and fanfare as possible.
After the feast and the cutting of the wedding pie filled with live birds, he danced with Ashara for a small time, as Rhaegar danced with Elia and then Ashara. Rhaegon ran around with Ser Jonothor Darry hurrying after his every step and Harry was just exhausted. He was tired, grouchy and getting irritated. His feet hurt, his hips hurt, the extra weight made him feel like he was permanently carrying around a large, heavy rock and he just wanted to lie down in his bed and sleep. But even his bed would be different now. He was moving out of his childhood rooms and into his marriage chamber with Ashara, but in truth he wasn’t. Ashara would be sleeping in Rhaegar’s bed with Elia, in Rhaegar’s wedding chamber just next door to Harry’s own, and Rhaegar would be in his bed with him.
He smiled to himself, that on its own would make this all worth it. He couldn’t wait to climb into his bed with Rhaegar, their son Rhaegon sleeping in his cradle at the foot of their new bed.

“My Prince, it is wonderful to see you so happy.”

Harry blinked and his eyes came back into focus to see his good friends, the Tyrells.

“Lord Mace. I’m so happy to see you.” He said genuinely as he placed a hand on Garlan’s head. “You have grown so big since I last saw you, Garlan.”

“So has Rhaegon.” Lady Alerie chuckled as she turned and watched as Rhaegon ran laughing across the dancing area of the hall, Ser Jon Darry barely keeping up with him in his heavy, full scale white armour which weighed him down and slowed him considerably.

“He’s sixteen turns now.” Harry said with a smile. “I don’t know where the time is going. I am saddened that your son, Willas and Lady Mother, Olenna, could not be present today, but I understand.” He said truthfully. He more than understood the decision to leave their Heir in Highgarden and bring only their younger son.

“Lady Olenna sends her apologies, but she did not…” Lady Alerie started, but Harry quickly cut in.

“Wish to leave young Willas alone and sick.” He cut in loudly with an understanding nod. “I more than understand, but I am grateful that you could make it.” Much quieter he bent in to tell them. “Be careful what you say here, even in your own privacy. My Father has spies everywhere, even in the walls. The Red Keep is full of hidden tunnels and passages, anyone could be listening.”

Lord Mace nodded and laid a hand on his Wife’s belly. Harry looked closer and he grinned.

“Oh, now you didn’t tell me that you were expecting again. You kept that quiet.”

Mace grinned back and Lady Alerie blushed. “I am five turns, my Prince.”

“You look very well for five turns, Lady Alerie. Princess Elia is pregnant too, four turns, but neither she nor Rhaegar are saying much about it, half the servants are insistent that she has lost the babe, but it is becoming more obvious now that she hasn’t. She asked me to make her something to settle her belly the other week too. If that is not an indication that she is still with babe, I don’t know what is.”

“We had heard that she’d fallen pregnant on her wedding night, Mother was very surprised.” Mace nodded.

“We would birth within a turn of one another. Our babes would be of an age together.” Lady Alerie said excitedly.

Harry smiled at her. “Yes, but keep it quiet for now. They are not overly expressing their knowledge of the babe to anyone, I think they’re afraid of becoming targets for those who would wish to do harm to my family and my family’s line. Father has heard rumours from his spies, that is why poor Ser Jon has the impossible task of shadowing Rhaegon’s steps. He’ll drop from exhaustion within the next hour if he keeps that up.”

They all watched as Ser Jon Darry held Rhaegon’s hand to keep him still for a moment while he caught his breath before he let go of the complaining, squirming Prince and then they were off again, Rhaegon running and screeching around the massive Great Hall and poor Ser Jon chasing after him.

“I’m going to have to swap Rhaegon’s protectors around. If anyone attacked my son now, Ser Jon would be all but useless.” Harry said before calling out to his son loudly. “Rhaegon! Here.” He pointed to the space in front of his legs and Rhaegon reacted immediately.

“Ma!” His son called out as he turned at his call and caught sight of him and he run right into Harry’s legs, where Harry had pointed.

Harry smiled and patted his wild, jet black hair that was exactly like his own. Ser Jon caught up and he doubled over, panting, trying to breathe as he sweated in his heavy armour. Harry patted his shoulder as a gesture of shared pain, he too had had to run after Rhaegon and while pregnant it wasn’t fun. Not that any of these people realised that he was seven turns pregnant, they all likely thought that he’d gotten unfit and very fat while he lounged around and ate throughout the day, spending all of his time reading ancient books and scrolls over the last five turns. Only a very select few were privy to the real reason for his added weight and inability to exercise much, the others could not even come close to guessing the real reason for it.

“Go and take a drink, Ser, and send over Prince Lewyn, I believe that it’s his turn to run himself into exhaustion. He has been laughing at you for the last half hour.”

Ser Jon looked like he was going to argue, perhaps over losing his ‘job’ and possibly exclaiming that he was fully able to look after a one year old babe thank you, until he heard that last and then he scowled, looking to his sworn brother, who was grinning and laughing at something completely unrelated, but Ser Jon all but growled as he pinned his brother with his glare.

“Yes, my Prince. I do believe that it is his turn to watch Prince Rhaegon. I’ll be just a moment.”

Harry laughed to himself in amusement and congratulation of a situation well handled.

“Prince Lewyn wasn’t laughing at Ser Jon, was he?” Lord Mace asked with a look, understanding Harry’s amusement.

Harry laughed again and shook his head. “No, my friend, he wasn’t. It amuses me though and it prevents arguments over whose job is what when I change Rhaegon’s protection. It would have been an insult to Ser Jon if I’d told him that I was worried that he couldn’t adequately protect my son and I was taking him from Rhaegon’s protection duty for the rest of the night.”

“Ser Jon seems to be under the impression that I was laughing at his expense, my Prince.” Prince Lewyn told him, striding over to confront him.

“I wonder where he got that idea from.” Harry replied in a very fake, over exaggerated innocence.

Lady Alerie laughed daintily and Lord Mace laughed loudly.

“I did not wish to insult Ser Jon by telling him that he’s too exhausted from running around in full scale armour that I did not think he could protect Rhaegon if an attack were to occur.” Harry explained quietly. “I needed to change Rhaegon’s protection without insulting anyone.”

Prince Lewyn smiled and placed a mailed hand on Rhaegon’s head. “That’s alright, I don’t mind playing wet nurse to him and looking after Rhaegon is always a pleasure.”

It took Harry only a moment to realise that Prince Lewyn was talking about Ser Jon and that he was complaining that he was Ser Jon’s wet nurse, not Rhaegon’s, and he laughed, his mind as sharp as ever.

“I knew you’d understand. You’re far too intelligent for your own good.”

Harry grinned. “There’s no such thing as too intelligent. There is always something new, something else, to learn.”

“And that is why you should have become a Maester proper, my Prince.”

Rhaegon, who had been distracted for a few minutes by Garlan Tyrell, grabbed his new friend by the hand and pulled him away, off over the platform that held the top table and that was the end of Prince Lewyn’s night, as he was forced to follow the two young boys as they ran around the Great Hall giggling.
Ashara came over to him then and she embraced him carefully, so as not to expose his growing belly, and she kissed his cheek.
Harry all but beamed at her and pecked her mouth as if she were his Mother. He felt next to no arousal from being near her, not like he did when Rhaegar would kiss him or hold him or even just brush past him, but he could still see that she was a very beautiful, attractive woman and he was the luckiest man in the whole world to have her attention and Rhaegar’s true love. He was not blind to the looks of appreciation that Ashara got, nor the jealous glares that were aimed at himself.

“Ashara, please, meet my friends, Lord Mace Tyrell and his Lady Wife, Alerie. They have two sons, Willas and Garlan, and another babe on the way too. Lord Mace, Lady Alerie, please meet my Lady wife, Princess Ashara Dayne.”

“It is lovely to meet you.” Ashara said graciously, Harry’s wedding cloak around her shoulders, proudly displaying the red, three headed dragon on black of house Targaryen. “But I came over to offer a dance to my Husband.”

Harry smiled and he took Ashara’s hands into his own and bowed over them, kissing the dainty appendages gently before standing back up and leading her away, down off of the platform that held the top table and to the space cleared of tables and benches that was designated as the dancing area.
He held her gently, one arm around her waist, his other hand holding hers, their fingers laced together and he put his face to hers, their noses brushing which made him laugh and Ashara smile.
They danced together for four long songs until Harry absolutely just had to sit down again.

“I can’t stand anymore, Ashara.” He whispered. “My knees and feet are so pained, I need to sit down before I fall down.”

She nodded understandingly and she kissed his cheek.

“Come, Husband. I need a drink.” She insisted loudly, for the sake of those dancing close by them, as she took his hand and led him from the dancing area back up to the top table.

Harry all but fell back into his seat and he took a deep drink of water to keep himself from groaning in pleasure as he took the weight from his throbbing feet.

“Is that better?” She whispered in to his ear, placing a coy look upon her face for the sake of those watching them, as if she were whispering naughty, sweet nothings to him.

Harry nodded. “So much better. Until you’re pregnant yourself, you won’t understand the sheer pleasure of sitting down.”

Ashara laughed at him and they sat, their hands entwined on the table top so that others could see.

“You might wish to make your escape now.” Rhaegar told him as he passed behind him. “The bedding hour will be soon.”

“Five minutes, find Prince Lewyn and get him to take Rhaegon to the door and I’ll pick him up from there.”

Rhaegar nodded and left into the crowd of noble wedding goers. Only when Harry saw Prince Lewyn holding tightly to the hand of a struggling, complaining Rhaegon by the door did he stand and take Ashara over to them, smiling and laughing all the way, as if they were just merely mingling as they were supposed to be doing.

“Prince Rhaegar said to wait here with Rhaegon.” Prince Lewyn explained.

Harry nodded. “We’re making our escape now.” He said. “Thank you for your help.”

Prince Lewyn nodded as Harry took Rhaegon’s hand and hurried him through the door with Ashara and they moved from the Great Hall, over the serpentine steps and to Maegor’s Holdfast, which was being guarded by the newly raised Jaime Lannister, who was deeply unhappy to be stuck on the bridge and not allowed to attend the wedding feast. Harry was sure that Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was doing such things purposefully to punish Jaime Lannister for Aerys Targaryen’s decision to give him a white cloak.

“Ser Jaime.” Harry greeted.

“My Prince.” He greeted, looking confused. “Are you not having a bedding?”

“No, Ser. Rhaegon is staying in our rooms and I will not have anyone disturbing him or putting him in danger while he sleeps.”

“I didn’t want a bedding either.” Ashara said simply, playing her part so well, so believably, that Harry almost took it as fact himself. “I much prefer a private bedding with just my Husband and I like the thought of him being the only one to see me unclothed.”

“I like the idea too. I suppose I’m just a jealous man at heart.” He laughed, knowing it to be true, but only with his beloved Rhaegar.

“You’re a wonderful man, Haradarian the Heart. Now, let us go to our marriage chamber and put this little sweet boy down to sleep and then we can have our privacy.” She all but purred sultrily at him.

Harry smiled, forcing a lusty look onto his face and he nodded to Jaime again before he hurried Ashara and Rhaegon over the bridge and to his new wedding chamber, that had candles burning on every surface and fresh flowers in several vases around the room set up by the servants as Harry and Ashara had been feasting.

“This is Dragon’s breath, your favourite flower.” Ashara smiled at him.

Harry grinned. “Yes, I really do love it. The deep red colour, the sweet smell of them, the silky way they feel. I just love them.” He said happily.

“Ma.” Rhaegon cooed to get his attention, before indicating his new boots.

“Okay, come on. Let’s get those boots off of your feet.” Harry cooed back, sitting Rhaegon on his new, massive solid bed and unlacing the tiny boots.

Rhaegon giggled and threw himself backwards and tried to roll on the bed as Harry tried to pull his boots off of his feet. He struggled with Rhaegon and finally manged to pull the boots off one by one. He grunted as he threw the boots away and then he pulled off Rhaegon’s wedding apparel, including the tiny Targaryen cloak.
Once in just his smallclothes, Harry got his son into a sleeping tunic and then dug out his harp. He struck a note and immediately Rhaegon stopped rolling on the bed and turned to him with a cheeky grin. Rhaegon loved the sounds of a high harp, though he loved it better when his Father played the harp, who was better at it than he was, but Harry was the one who always sung to him. Rhaegar didn’t like singing, he didn’t have the voice for it.
Harry sung five short, soft songs until Rhaegon finally fell asleep in the middle of Harry’s bed and Harry was able to carefully pick him up and lay him in his cradle and cover him over. He sighed and went back to the bed, laying on it happily.
Ashara came and laid next to him, rubbing his growing belly.

“It’s over.” She told him gently. “You can just rest now until the big day.” She said, referring to his labour.

“I hate that Rhaegar and Elia are going to claim this babe as their own. I’ll have to sneak around just to feed my own babe and the thought makes me feel sick.”

“It won’t be for very long.” Ashara soothed. “Rhaegar is going to let all the members of the Kingsguard in on the real marriage one by one, after that, he’s going to hold another great council. No one is going to keep Aerys on the throne with how he’s been acting and behaving, he’s too unstable.”

Harry nodded. “I know. But even another year is going to destroy my bond with my own babe and I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“You will claim sickness for the first week or two and you’ll be abed with your babe while Elia is locked up in Rhaegar’s wedding chamber for the same amount of time to ‘recover from her labour.’ You will have time to feed and bond to the babe.”

Harry took in a deep breath and he nodded. “I know. I just don’t like the thought of being away from my own babe for any length of time.”

“You won’t have to be.” Ashara assured him. “Rhaegar will be sleeping in these rooms with you and he will bring your babe with him every night, and I’m sure as the true Mother of the babe, you will have the child throughout the day too, no one would think it strange, to them you would be the babe’s ‘Uncle’ so it won’t be unusual for you to have the babe to help out a bit. Rhaegar did the same with Rhaegon and no one suspected anything amiss.”

Harry smiled, actually reassured a little and he laid himself down on the pillows and relaxed his body. Ashara snuggled into his back and he touched her hand, the one that was drawing patterns on his pregnant belly.

“We’ll all be here for you when you birth.” She assured him softly. “You won’t go through it alone again.”

“I wasn’t truly alone when I birthed Rhaegon, Rhaegar was there.” Harry said sleepily.

“Some good he was.” Ashara snorted. “From what you told me he was pretty useless.”

“Not useless, but there wasn’t much that he could do. There’s not much that anyone can do.”

“You will set everything up and then tell us what you need and we will get it for you.” Ashara said. “We are determined to help you, Haradarian.”

“Everything I need is already in this room. I’ve labelled all the medicines and things that I needed for Rhaegon, the newly forged dagger is ready. I’ll just need a bowl or two of boiled water when I actually go into labour and that’ll be it.”

“I can’t wait to see you birth.”

“I can.” Harry laughed. “I need to hold on for another two turns, but I’ve already gone over how long I carried Rhaegon for, everything now is unknown territory for me.”

“We are here and we are going to help you through this.” Ashara told him determinedly.

Harry smiled and laid still and silent. He dropped off to sleep and he didn’t wake up again until the morning and when he did wake up, he had been changed and dressed in a sleeping tunic and it was Rhaegar who was wrapped lovingly around his body under the sheets.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Two turns later, Harry had claimed that he wasn’t feeling very well and he had been excused from his daily tasks as a Prince. He was wearing several layers, thus he was red flushed and sweating heavily which made him look sick, but he needed the extra clothes to hide the huge baby bump he had. But he heard the whispers and the gossip whispered behind his back still, most of the servants, and even his parents too, in fact everyone who wasn’t in the know about his pregnancy, thought that he had gotten very fat and gross with his several moon turns of complete inactivity and his Mother had even tried to subtly push him at hunting, hawking or sword practice, all of which Harry had steadfastly refused as he buried his nose deeper into his books as Rhaegar run around after their very active, boisterous son.
His bump wasn’t strictly that big, he was not as big as a woman would have been at nine turns, but as a man, it was very, very noticeable that he was an odd shape. Men did not have the shape of a pregnant woman naturally, so he had to hide the bump as much as he could and endure the ‘fat’ jokes behind his back and it was grating on him in the last turn of pregnancy as he was so irritable anyway, due to the pain in his back, hips, legs, feet and what seemed to be every part of his body. He couldn’t sleep comfortably, he couldn’t sit comfortably, he couldn’t stand for more than half an hour at a time and he needed a piss what seemed like every hour.
He made it to his rooms with Ser Arthur Dayne shadowing him and he all but crawled into his bed and stayed there.

“I’m dying.” He complained dramatically, and unhappily.

Ser Arthur chuckled and sat on the bed with him and used both hands to massage his lower back. Harry groaned happily as the knight rubbed right into his back with both thumbs, hard. One vertebrae popped and another lower down cracked and he breathed in deeply and then let that air out on a moan.

“That felt so good.” He praised. “Don’t stop.”

Ser Arthur continued to rub Harry’s back for several minutes before he moved on to his feet, tugging off his boots and digging those wonderful thumbs into the soles of his feet. Harry moaned louder.

“If you don’t stop that, then Rhaegar might have me killed for a misunderstanding. There are servants running around outside that door.”

“I don’t care.” Harry groaned.

“It’s my head on the block.” Ser Arthur teased.

“No one would dare put your pretty head on a block.” Harry smiled into his pillow. “Not when you do such wonderful things to my body.”

Arthur laughed as he continued pampering his feet. “When will you birth now?”

“Any day now, at any moment.” Harry sighed. “One moment I’ll be fine, the next labour could start. I can’t do this pregnancy any longer, it’s too much. It’s been too long and I’ve prayed to the gods to keep the baby in me for as long as possible and I’ve done so. Elia has been doing a good job of pretending to be pregnant, but it’s time now, this babe needs to come out before our farce is blown out of the water and someone sees or hears something that they shouldn’t. I can’t keep hiding away because of my belly. It’s not an option anymore. I need to have this baby within the week or we risk being caught out.”

“Is there any way to bring on labour?” Ser Arthur asked curiously.

“There are, but none of them are especially safe. I would prefer it if my babe came out naturally, in his or her own time, but if I go for another week, then I may not have another option.”

A servant came to the door, being denied entry to the room, to inform them that supper had been served and Harry forced himself up, having Ser Arthur lace his boots back up, and he hobbled to the royal solar where he nibbled at the food as his eighteen turn old son ate whatever was in reach.

“Rhaegon, eat properly.” Ashara coached him gently, sitting him on her own lap and feeding him much smaller bites from her own fork. Rhaegon loved this little game and he giggled after every mouthful. He truly had become very attached to Ashara and it made Harry smile.

Near the end of supper, in which he ignored his parents, and the servants’, inquiring looks at him as he barely ate enough to feed a bird, as none of them understood where his mass weight gain was coming from as he wasn’t eating any more than usual, less than usual in fact, he was just snacking a bit more often.
It was nearing the end of the meal when there was a sharp twinge in his back that had him going very pale. He knew exactly what that twinge meant and he felt sick at the thought of the unbearable agony that was to come very soon.

“Are you feeling any better, darling?” His Mother asked a moment later. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her with his pale, sweaty face, trying to decipher what she was saying.

“Not particularly, Mother. I think I have a slight fever. So if it’s all the same, I think I will retire after I’ve supped.”

“I could watch over Rhaegon tonight, so that he won’t catch your fever.”

Harry nodded. “That would be perfect. I would hate for him to be exposed to this sickness.”

He stood and he used the table to support himself. He shared a panicked look with Rhaegar, whose purple eyes widened as he understood what was happening as he caught the silent message passed to him with just a look.

“Prince Lewyn, could you escort me please?” He asked, his voice trembling with the strengthening twinges in his lower spine. “Ser Arthur, could I trouble you to collect some boiled water for my head?”

The two members of the Kingsguard both swallowed visibly as Prince Lewyn came to support him and Lady Ashara stood, handing Rhaegon to Queen Rhaella and following them out, exclaiming that she was going to make him feel better and stay awake with him all night if need be.
Rhaegar and Elia stayed for a little longer, until after supper so they didn’t draw any suspicion, and then they retired as Elia claimed that her back and belly were feeling a bit sore.
They made it to Rhaegar’s wedding chamber, the room where the two girls slept, to find Harry with a death grip on Prince Lewyn’s arm as he laid in the bed.

“Harry, my sweet love, are you alright?” Rhaegar exclaimed worriedly as he went straight to his Husband and embraced him gently.

“It hurts so much.” He gasped, his whole body writhing in agony. His hands clenched even tighter on Prince Lewyn’s hand and wrist.

“Now?!” Ashara asked as she hurried in with a large leather bag that tinkled with numerous pieces of glass as she moved.

Harry shook his head. “I can’t make a single incision yet, I need the water here first.”

Ashara bit her lip before turning and busying herself with laying out all of the potions and pastes that Harry had showed to her from the leather bag he’d kept them in, onto a nearby table, all neatly lined up and their labels facing outwards for convenience and easy viewing.

“Hurry up Arthur.” She hissed aloud, trying to chide her brother to move faster, as she worriedly looked to Harry in the bed.

Harry gasped again and Rhaegar pulled off his belt and folded it over.

“Bite down.” He encouraged as he realised that Harry was so very close to screaming.

Harry opened his mouth and Rhaegar slotted the folded leather into his mouth and Harry clamped down tight and hard with his teeth as the urge to scream built up higher.
He screamed into the leather, thankfully very muffled, with the next spasm of pain that ripped through his lower back. He grunted several times, made a strange noise and then reached for Rhaegar, who held him tightly, trying to ease the pain in his back with the heel of his hand. Harry opened his mouth wide on a silent groan, the belt falling from between his teeth.

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Harry chanted, his body wracked with powerful convulsions. He clamped his arms around Rhaegar’s neck and held onto him crushingly tight. “Oh, oh, oh, gods’ no. I can’t do this, not again.” He panted, holding the belt in his hand with a death grip.

“You can, put the belt back in your mouth.” Rhaegar said soothingly. “As soon as you hold our babe in your arms, you’ll forget all about this pain, the same as you did with Rhaegon.”

“Stop talking or I’ll strangle you.” Harry forced out through gritted teeth as his knees shook to try and handle the pain. “Oh, by the gods I am never doing this again.” He sobbed.

“You said that with Rhaegon too.” Rhaegar told him gently.

“Shut up, Rhaegar!” Harry commanded as his Husband supported him and held him.

The connecting door to the other bed chamber opened and then closed and Ser Arthur was there with a large kettle of boiled water, which was then poured into two different bowls, leaving a small amount remaining in the kettle.

“Lock the door.” Rhaegar ordered and Ashara ran to bolt both of the doors closed, the one onto the corridor and the other through to the other wedding chamber.

Rhaegar got Harry lying on his back, supported sort of upright with a large pile of soft cushions and pillows under his head and shoulders.
He helped him remove the many layers of clothes, leaving him naked from the waist up, harshly exposing his large bump.

“Hand me the dagger.” Rhaegar commanded, receiving the dagger and dipping it into the bowl of boiled water and wiping it dry with a clean linen cloth.

Harry felt the dagger being pressed into his right hand and he tried to focus, tried to concentrate.

“Wipe my eyes.” He told Rhaegar, who used the cloth to do just that, clearing Harry’s vision.

“You’ve been stabbed before.” Ser Arthur reminded him.

“This is worse.” He said shakily. “I’d rather be stabbed than go through the back breaking pain of this labour. I’d rather be back in the crow cage.” He sobbed.

“No you wouldn’t.” Rhaegar told him easily. “You wouldn’t be here with me otherwise.”

Harry sniffled and he nodded. “Stand away.” He said to the others.

“We’re here to help.” Ashara told him firmly.

“I know, but there is little you can do at the moment…and there’s going to be a lot of blood.” He added as he clenched his hand around the handle of the dagger.

Rhaegar leant his strength to him, covering Harry’s hand with his own to stop the shaking, but it was Harry who had to control how deeply he went, how far the incision went and he had to stop and throw his head back from the pain of cutting himself open, clenching his jaw together so that he wouldn’t scream and bring everyone in Maegor’s Holdfast running.

“Come on, Harry. Quickly.” Rhaegar encouraged.

“I would fucking love to see you do this you cunt licking, greyscale carrying, swine!”

“There are Ladies present.” Rhaegar reminded him disapprovingly.

“I don’t give a fucking hairy arsehole if there are Ladies present!” He raged as he was forced to cut himself wider.

His hand tried to let go of the dagger, to let go of the weapon that was causing him such pain, but Rhaegar held his hand tight to the handle of the dagger and he couldn’t get his hand free.

“Please. I can’t…I can’t.” He begged with tears streaming down his face.

“You can.” Rhaegar encouraged. “Quickly now, Harry.”

His legs kicked out reflexively, but Rhaegar was between them, so Harry couldn’t kick him, all he could do was kick air and dig his feet into the sheets.

“Almost there.” Rhaegar said soothingly. “Come on.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Harry declared as he slit into himself further and he screeched in pain.

“Quiet!” Rhaegar shushed him.

Harry snapped his eyes open in disbelief and he snarled. “If you tell me to be quiet again then I’ll ram this blade in your piss slit and we’ll see how silent you can be!” He growled.

Rhaegar ignored him, used to Harry’s threats from when he and Harry had birthed Rhaegon. Harry had apologised profusely after he had recovered and Rhaegar had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. It was Harry’s way of dealing with this overwhelming pain and anything, anything at all, that got Harry through this pain, was to be endured and even welcomed.
He took the dagger from Harry, putting it down on the sheets within his reach and he put both of his hands into Harry’s body and tried to ignore the almost inhuman screech of agony that Harry emitted at the action.

“Bowl.” He said shortly, looking to his left as Ser Arthur held out the bowl of water ready, the man’s face was as pale as a sheet and his eyes were wide and disbelieving as he watched without daring to blink.

Rhaegar plucked his babe from Harry’s womb and placed it into the bowl of water.

“Wash it off.” He ordered. “Then wrap it in a towel. Ashara, needle and sinew.”

Harry had put his hands inside his body to pull out the after birth, but he encountered another leg and he panicked.

“Rhaegar. Rhaegar!” He gasped as he pulled a second baby free of his body.

Rhaegar froze for a moment, before snatching the second babe into his arms.

“Another bowl.” He ordered and Prince Lewyn hurried to collect the second bowl and Rhaegar placed the second babe into the water. “Is that it?” He asked Harry, trying not to panic at these unexpected, unforeseen happenings.

Harry ripped out his own placenta and screeched loudly as he did so. Cruelly he had to repeat this with a second placenta before he nodded, sniffling through his streaming nose, his eyes red from his continuous tears, showing that he was ready for the next stage. Rhaegar once again steadied his hand as Harry stitched himself up tightly.

“Poppy.” He sobbed.

“Not yet. Finish this first.” Rhaegar encouraged, trying to remain calm and supportive. “It needs to be cleaned too.”

“I can do that.” Ashara said in a very high voice, sounding breathless from her own panic at seeing what was happening in front of her. “Harry showed me how to make the vinegar, salt and clove solution.”

“Make it, Ashara. We’re almost done.” Rhaegar ordered as he kept his focus on Harry, putting the stitches in carefully, one at a time, pulling them tight.

“One part vinegar, one part sa…salt and…ah!” Harry cried out.

“Half a part cloves in a cup of boiled water. I remember.” Ashara said as she took the pots and bottles from where she’d lined them up and started crushing the salt and cloves together into a fine powder, trying to look anywhere but at the bed, where Harry and Rhaegar were working together to stitch up the gaping belly wound. Elia Martell had moved as far away as she possibly could and she was watching from a chair in the corner, her face white under the olive colour of her skin.

“What do we do with these?” Prince Lewyn asked, tugging very gently on one of the cords coming from the baby he was cradling in a towel. It was leaking blood.

“Tie it off with the harp string and then cut it shorter.” Rhaegar ordered, handing over the dagger. “Quickly.”

“Poppy.” Harry repeated as he felt his way across the wound he had made, stitching it closed and relying heavily on Rhaegar to move his hand and keep it still as he could no longer see through his pained tears.

“Not yet, Harry, just a little longer.”

Twin cries were heard from the newborns and Harry panicked, picking his head up to try and look at his newborn babes, but Rhaegar forced his hand to keep moving.

“They’ve had their cords tied off and cut, Harry. That’s all, carry on.”

“I’m so tired.” He croaked out. “So tired, so much pain.”

“I know, just a bit more and then we’ll be done, I promise.”

Rhaegar was forced to finish the last few stitches when Harry’s hand went floppy and he refused to stitch himself up fully.

“I’m done with the solution.” Ashara said quietly.

“Just a moment.” Rhaegar said as he tied off the last stitch. It wasn’t very neat, but his Husband was fully closed off and he was no longer bleeding. “Milk of the poppy first.”

It was Elia, who had been holding the vial of poppy milk in both hands as if it were the only thing keeping her from fainting, who jumped up from her chair and hurried over to hand it over before retreating again, leaving Rhaegar to encourage and help Harry to drink a few drops.
He took the bowl of solution from Ashara and he applied it, dabbing it on Harry and pressing gently as the poppy milk took away his pain and his consciousness after several very long, very agonising and heart wrenching minutes where he was forced to listen to his Husband sobbing and pleading with him, with the gods, to take away the pain for him, his breath hitching with the pain, his eyes red raw from his continuous tears and then blessed silence as the poppy milk knocked Harry unconscious, finally.

“The babes, are they okay?” He asked, calming down a little now that the panic was over and his beloved Harry was finally out of pain and sleeping.

“I…I don’t know. I’m not a Maester nor a wood’s witch.” Ser Arthur said, but he shoved the babe he was holding under Rhaegar’s nose.

He looked the babe over and he nodded at the blue eyes peering back at him from under a tuft of dark hair. That was going to complicate things. More so as the second babe was shown to him by Prince Lewyn and that one too had dark hair and blue eyes.

“They both look fine. I’ll look closer in a moment, just let me sort Harry out first.”

“No one will believe that I carried twins.” Elia fretted.

“What else can they believe?” Rhaegar asked calmly. “It is not as if they would ever guess the truth of it.”

“The truth is too unbelievable.” Prince Lewyn agreed. “I’ve watched it, before my very eyes, and I’m still having trouble believing it. I am holding the babe that I saw being pulled from his body and I still find it hard to believe.”

“Imagine how we were with Rhaegon.” Rhaegar said seriously. “Not knowing what to do, not knowing what was going to happen. We bluffed our way through it. It was only thanks to Harry’s wonderfully intelligent mind that I did not lose the both of them that night.”

Things remained silent as Rhaegar finished applying the solution before he sat back and put his bloodied hands into the kettle of remaining water to clean them off. He would need to change his tunic and breeches too, the entire front of him, including his rolled up sleeves and lap, were drenched with his Husband’s blood. He turned to his children only when his hands were as clean as he could get them, but blood was very hard to remove.
He took both of the babes into his arms and he kissed them both in turn.

“Could someone get their sleeping tunics, and some smallclothes? I’m sure Harry placed some in here.”

Elia was the one to grab the requested items and Rhaegar removed the linen cloth from what he noticed was his first daughter. He smiled at her as he pinned her into her smallclothes and put her into a sleeping tunic. He did the same for the second babe and he smiled wider as he saw that he had a second daughter. He pinned her smallclothes in place and dressed her before he cradled the both of them in his arms.

“Two daughters.” He said softly. “Thank you, Harry.” He whispered to his knocked out Husband.

“How do we handle this now?” Ashara asked.

“Harry has claimed sickness. You will arrive in the solar tomorrow morning and beg off for him, saying that he is too ill to be up. I will leave it until the midday meal I think and then I’ll show up and claim that Elia went into labour late at night and that I delivered the babes myself as there was no time to fetch Grand Maester Pycelle.”

“If you wish to be rid of him, then it might be better if you said that you sent a servant to fetch him and he did not answer your call.” Ser Arthur said seriously.

“That’s dangerous. Those lies could be found out.” Rhaegar countered.

“There is a mute girl who works in the kitchens. No lie could be found from her. But she can write.”

Rhaegar smirked cruelly. He nodded. “Find her. I will give her a silver coin to go along with this lie.”

“That would work for Harry too.” Ashara said softly, as if unsure she should be a part of the planning. “If Grand Maester Pycelle is removed from office, no one will be free to check on him until the Citadel sends a replacement, which could take a turn or two. They won’t find out the lie that he’s not truly sick.”

“It has to be done.” Rhaegar sighed as he saw from both sides of the argument.

“He’ll be executed.” Elia fretted.

“Good.” Rhaegar snarled. “I still haven’t forgiven him for being abed with a whore when Harry was brought home. I was not pleased when he wrangled a second chance from my Father. He won’t be given a third chance, I’ll ensure it.”

“What will you name your daughters?” Ashara asked to try and lighten the mood a little.

Rhaegar shook his head. “I will debate it with Harry, as we did for Rhaegon. No one will blame us for waiting a few days after such a sudden birth if we wait a week or so to announce the names, but Harry honoured me with the naming of Rhaegon, I wish to honour him back with the naming of our two daughters.”

“When will he wake?”

“Not for some time. I will strip him and bathe him of blood and put him in his own room. These sheets need to be changed and if I am to play this right, I need to go hunt down Pycelle and give him a piece of my mind. You two need to be gone, but see to the mute girl first, give her a silver stag and tell her to write a small missive on a piece of parchment, me requesting Pycelle to attend me immediately in my bed chambers in the way that she would have written such a message, it has to be something that she can easily remember and repeat under questioning, she will also need to say that he was abed with another whore. Lady Ashara, if you could stay with Harry so that I know that he has someone with him.”

Ashara nodded and the two Kingsguard members lingered, unwilling to leave their beloved friends, but they both took deep breaths, ignoring the tang of blood and medicine in the room, and they did as they’d been ordered to.
They took a silver stag from Rhaegar and they went and found the mute girl, who was sleeping in her straw bed off of the kitchens. After waking her up and assuring her that they weren’t going to harm her, they handed her the silver coin, and they got her to write on a small slip of parchment that she carried around with her and then they coached her through what to say, repeating as such to her several times what she was to do and say when questioned tomorrow morning, assuring her again that no harm would come to her and that these orders were from the Princes themselves. She nodded her understanding, handed over the piece of parchment and she was left to go back to sleep again.
Prince Lewyn and Ser Arthur then snuck back into White Sword Tower and to their own small rooms as silently as they could, pretending that they had been there for hours already, but sleep did not come easy to them that night as they each thought about what they had been witness to that evening. It was not every day that one saw a man birth twin daughters before their very own eyes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Barristan was startled by a massive commotion that morning and he drew his sword without even having to think of it. He moved forward to shield his King and the four other members of the royal family in the royal solar. Queen Rhaella who was holding the growing Prince Rhaegon, little Prince Viserys and the newest addition, Princess Ashara.
He ignored that in a part of his heart he loved her, that he found her very beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the world. He was too old for her, she was a young, beautiful, kind woman and she had married the boy he saw as a son. A better match couldn’t be found, they adored one another and he would hold his feelings close to his chest and never act on them. He could never act on them as he had sworn an oath, and Ashara deserved someone as kind and attentive as Haradarian and Haradarian deserved a woman like Ashara Dayne after all that he’d been through in his life.
She had come into the solar that morning looking tired, worried and a bit stressed. She had told everyone that Haradarian was very unwell and that he did not feel well enough to come to break his fast. Queen Rhaella had looked worried too, but King Aerys had only commented on that he would send Grand Maester Pycelle to check on the boy after he had broken his own fast.
The commotion however, seemed to be Grand Maester Pycelle as he hurried into the room amid a flurry of wordless noises. Prince Rhaegar stalked after him, there were red stains on the skin of his arms and dried blood around and under his fingernails and immediately, Barristan was on high alert.

“Do not dare try to lie to me!” Rhaegar demanded of the quavering old man.

“What has happened, my son?” King Aerys asked, struggling to get to his feet.

“This…this creature dared to ignore my summons last night.” He declared furiously to his Father.

“My Prince, I received no summons, I swear it on the Seven!”

“I don’t believe you!” Rhaegar roared.

“Is it Haradarian? Has he worsened?” Queen Rhaella asked.

That seemed to calm Prince Rhaegar for a moment as it distracted his mind from his rage. “Has Haradarian worsened?”

“Yes, dear. But if this isn’t about Haradarian, what is it about?”

“Elia went into labour last night. I sent a passing servant girl to fetch this filth and he never showed. I had to deliver my own babes and I am no Maester like Haradarian! So many things could have gone wrong, Elia could have died! There was so much blood and it got everywhere.”

“Oh, by the Seven, is she alright?”

“She’s fine. She’s resting. But I had no inkling as to what I was doing and she gave me two babes at once.”

That surprised Barristan, who had not believed that Elia Martell had it in her to carry one babe, much less two at once. She was not the most hale of women and she had always been delicate and sickly.

“Two babes?” King Aerys was overjoyed. “Sons?”

Then his smile fell as quickly as it had come when Rhaegar shook his head.

“Both girls.” He said with a soft smile, before finding his rage again and turning back to Pycelle. “I sent for you and you refused to answer me! You put my newborn daughters at risk of death and you did the same to my Wife! I want to know why?!”

“Send for the servant, my Prince, I swear on the Seven that no one came for me. It is the servant at fault, not I!”

“Ser Arthur, fetch the small girl who works in the kitchens, she’s brown haired and has large blue eyes. I believe that her name is Greta or something similar.” Rhaegar ordered, almost spitting in his anger.

Ser Arthur nodded and he left to the kitchens to fetch the girl that he had bribed earlier that night with a silver coin, and to plant the message that she had written in the Grand Maester’s rooms to frame him truly.
Barristan looked from the obviously angry Prince, to the cowering Pycelle and he wondered what the truth was here. Pycelle looked to be telling the truth, but Prince Rhaegar was rightfully furious. He knew also that no servant would have dared disobey a command from the Prince. One of these men was a better liar, a better mummer, than he’d ever suspected of them and that made him very suspicious.

“Are the babes alright, Rhaegar?” Queen Rhaella asked.

“I don’t know, Mother. I am not a Maester. I would have asked Haradarian as a priority, but he’s sick and cannot get out of bed and it is not a good idea to have him near newborn babes while he is so sick. I was forced to rely on this thing and he didn’t even bother to show up and attend me! What use is he if he ignores my orders and leaves me, me, to deliver my own babes when I had no idea of what I was doing?! What use is he?!” Rhaegar spat, his eyes almost as hard as stone as he glared at the cowering Grand Maester.

“You cut their cords?” Queen Rhaella asked calmly.

“Yes, Mother.” Rhaegar said uncomfortably.

“They were both breathing and both crying?”

“Yes. They’re so tiny though, I don’t remember Rhaegon being so tiny and he was born two turns premature too.”

“There are two babes in the same sized space, Rhaegar. They wouldn’t have had an opportunity to grow as big as Rhaegon.” The Queen said as she touched Rhaegon’s black hair as he gnawed on bread. Little Prince Rhaegon loved bread and particularly fish, he was a very hearty eater and that was a very good sign in a babe born premature, he would be a big, strong man, Barristan was almost certain of it.

Ser Arthur took an age to come back with a tiny little serving girl, much longer than it should have taken, but the little girl looked absolutely terrified. Barristan did not like the way this was going as the King’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. He hoped desperately that she had delivered Rhaegar’s message to Pycelle and hadn’t ignored his order in favour of getting to bed quicker. He couldn’t stand and watch as a mere girl of eight or nine years was tortured and then burnt alive.

“I did not see this girl last night!” Pycelle said quickly.

“Of course you would say that!” Rhaegar spat back. He crouched down in front of the girl and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Do you remember that I called you from down the hallway last night?” He asked calmly, softly.

The little girl nodded furiously.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

The girl nodded again, just as vigorously.

“Answer with word’s, girl!” King Aerys demanded.

“Your Grace, forgive me, the kitchen staff told me that she could not answer with words, she’s a mute.” Ser Arthur explained.

“You see, my Prince, she couldn’t have told me anything!” Pycelle jumped in, almost sagging with sheer relief.

“Did you pass my message on to this man here?” Rhaegar asked, unwilling to give up.

The girl nodded so quickly that Barristan was worried that she might injure her own neck.

“How?” Rhaegar asked her.

The little girl mimed writing and Rhaegar’s eyes lit up. “You know how to read and write? Fetch her some parchment and ink immediately!”

“I did not see this girl, I didn’t get any message from her!”

“Ser Gerold, go to Pycelle’s rooms, look for the missive. He might have tried to throw it away or burn it.” Rhaegar commanded.

Ser Gerold gave a short bow and he strode off, his white plate mail clanking with each strong step. A servant brought in some parchment and ink and Rhaegar stood over the girl as she carefully wrote down the same message that she had written the night before.

“This is what you wrote to Pycelle when you saw him?” Rhaegar asked as he read the words and then passed it to his Father. The girl nodded furiously. “And you passed it into his own hand?”

The girl shook her head this time.

“No? Then to whom did you pass it to?” Rhaegar asked curiously.

The girl wrote just one word this time and Barristan could read it easily as she spelled out the word ‘whore’ on the page. Rhaegar’s face turned to thunder, his eyes to ice.

“You were with another whore?” He demanded lowly, even as he slammed his fist down on the table. “Even after the first time that you were caught, you were abed with another one. You deemed your whore a higher priority than my brother then and now you deemed a whore higher than my newly born children? Than my wife?!”

“I wasn’t, my Prince, please! I wasn’t with anyone, I never saw this girl last night. I received no summons, no message, I swear it.”

“I don’t believe you!” Rhaegar roared so loudly, so suddenly that it made Barristan’s heart miss a beat and he startled Prince Rhaegon into fright, and to tears.

Rhaegar took a deep breath and took his nephew from his Mother and held him securely and comfortingly, placing the little boy’s face into the crook of his neck to calm him, stroking along his small back.

“My newborn children could have died last night, my wife could have died as you were abed with another whore. You have broken your vows again, and only the gods know how many times in between where you haven’t been caught. You failed to answer my summons and you deemed yourself and your needs of higher importance than mine. I will not stand for it. Father, I want his head for this.”

“And you shall have it, my son.” King Aerys said, looking on proudly at his strong, oldest child.

“Your Grace, please. It isn’t true. It isn’t! I’m being set up!”

“By who?” King Aerys demanded. “Who would even try to set you up? Who would want you gone?”

“Prince Haradarian! He is trying to take my place himself, that is why he went to the Citadel.”

“Haradarian is grievously ill in his bed!” Ashara joined in, her beautiful, delicate face furious at the blame being placed upon the man that she loved, speaking up in automatic defence of her beloved Husband. “He was with me all night, from the moment we left this table last night. He has been vomiting and sleeping all night as I stayed awake to watch over him! He is still abed and he is not going to be moving for a long while with how ill he is.”

“He was very pale and he was sweating a lot during supper last night.” Queen Rhaella reminded King Aerys, who nodded.

“Haradarian could not have done as such, how dare you blame my sick son for your mistake. Rhaegar, he must be burnt.”

“As you say, Father.” Rhaegar said dispassionately. “He has tried to blame a mere servant girl for his actions and now he has tried to blame my sick brother. Who will be next, Pycelle? My Mother? Perhaps you wish to blame the Kingsguard? Oh, how about my twin daughters for being born two turns premature on a night that you were abed with a whore? Haradarian is learned, incredibly so, but he is not a Maester proper as he took no oaths, he couldn’t replace you even if he had wanted to!”

Ser Gerold came striding back into the solar as Pycelle was mouthing wordlessly in fear. Barristan noticed that he had a small slip of charred parchment held carefully in his hand and he clenched his jaw angrily. Pycelle was the liar. He had been caught abed with a whore again and it had once again endangered a member of the royal family and he had tried to cover his own tracks by lying and trying to dispose of the missive that Rhaegar had sent to him.

“Your Grace, I found this on the fire grate in Pycelle’s rooms. It is scorched on one side, but it is still semi-legible. It looks like someone tried to throw it in the fire in a hurry, but missed the flames.”

King Aerys looked at the scorched message and held his hand out for the little girl’s written message and he compared them before handing both to Rhaegar. The Prince’s hand clenched around both pieces of parchment and he turned burning eyes to Pycelle.

“The missives match!” He hissed. “You received my summons and you ignored them!”

“Seize him!” King Aerys commanded and it was Ser Gerold, as the closest, who grabbed and detained Pycelle. “Take him to the dungeons, he will be burnt at my command later today.”

“Father, we need to send to the Citadel for a new Grand Maester. I cannot risk my wife or newborns anymore and Haradarian may need one for himself.”

“You will do so immediately, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar nodded and he kissed his nephew and handed him back to his Mother and he left the solar.

“You are dismissed, girl.” King Aerys said to the servant, who curtsied clumsily and then hurried off quickly.

Barristan’s mind was reeling. He didn’t know what to think about what had just happened. Pycelle truly had ignored a missive from Prince Rhaegar. He had put Princess Elia and the two newborn Princesses in danger and almost two years previously he had put Prince Haradarian’s life in further peril by being abed with another whore when he was most needed. Barristan had witnessed that moment himself, having been the one to carry the limp and lifeless Prince Haradarian to the Maester’s chambers to find him entertaining a whore.
He was worried now about Prince Haradarian, he was worried about the two newborn Princesses and he was worried about Elia, who had carried the twin babes. She was not a healthy girl and she had barely had a baby bump at all. To have carried two babes was a very dangerous circumstance for a healthy, well hipped woman, for Elia, a skinny, narrow woman who was of delicate health to have had twins would have put her at great risk of death and Prince Rhaegar hadn’t even gotten an heir from it. If Rhaegar were to die, then the crown would pass to Haradarian and his own son, Rhaegon, would be heir to the throne.
He sighed internally, going back to his post with his sworn brothers, including the youngest member of them, the sixteen year old Jaime Lannister, who had been raised up to the Kingsguard last year, at just five-and-ten. Things around him were a mess, and with King Aerys in power, it was only getting worse.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

It took Harry two and a half weeks before he could even sit up or get up, but he still felt absolutely awful. He had been in and out of consciousness, drinking down the milk of the poppy, getting others to bathe his wound as Rhaegar helped him to feed their newborn daughters, sometimes latching them on while he was asleep or unconscious, but the milk of the poppy was coming through in his own milk and as it had done with a newborn Rhaegon, it was making his babes drowsy and floppy. He had to cut down on the poppy milk and endure the pain for the sake of his babes.
But today, for the first time, he was up on his feet and walking around a little. He was sickened that he had to pass his baby girls over to Elia to mother, but he had to keep up the farce and Rhaegar had promised to hand them back as soon as they reached the solar and he was sat down. But Harry now knew how Rhaegar felt when he had to pretend that he was just Rhaegon’s Uncle. It was a terrible feeling to be unable to publically claim your own child as yours. They needed to get rid of their Father and quickly, he didn’t know how long he could go before he snapped and shouted for all to hear that his two little girls were his own.

“Oh, Haradarian, my sweet son. How are you feeling?” His Mother fussed as he hobbled his way to the solar, his face a pale grey, leaning heavily upon poor Ashara, who was doing her utmost best to keep him standing.

“I swear I’m dying.” He whispered. “I see the Stranger in my dreams.”

“I won’t let you die.” Ashara said stubbornly as she got him sat down carefully.

“You have been wonderful.” Harry praised, kissing her soft cheek clumsily.

“Here brother, look at my little daughters.” Rhaegar said as he took the babes straight from Elia without asking and laid them in Harry’s arms, as he had promised that he would.

“Rhaegar, I don’t think he should have them, I don’t want them to become sick.” Elia fretted.

Harry was sure that his stony face could have killed and if his couldn’t, then Rhaegar’s certainly could have.

“I wouldn’t be out of bed if I was not feeling better.” He said icily.

“What are you to name them?” Ashara asked, playing her part from that morning, where she had helped Rhaegar to dress Harry and the topic of names had come up. They had spent half an hour arguing over what they wanted to name the girls, but ultimately, as they had done with Rhaegon, they had finally agreed on the perfect names.

“I was thinking of…” Elia said conversationally, but Rhaegar cut her off immediately.

“I’ve decided to honour my brother, as he honoured me with his son. They will be named Haeraenya and Helaena.”

“But I wanted…”

“No one cares what you want.” King Aerys cut in. “They are Dornish enough without Dornish monikers. Haeraenya and Helaena are perfectly adequate names, Rhaegar.”

“Thank you for the honour, Rhaegar.” Harry croaked as he held his baby girls closer.

Rhaegon, who was sat next to Harry, went up onto his knees to peer at them.

“Babies.” He cooed. “Ma, babies.”

“This is Haeraenya and Helaena, Rhaegon. Say hello.”

“Hi, babies.”

Harry kissed Rhaegon and sat back with the girls.

“I could take them for today, Rhaegar.” Harry said softly. “I’m not up to much, so Rhaegon and I are going to spend the day here, in the solar.”

“Thank you, Harry. That will help.” Rhaegar said, touching his head. “Elia and I are going to be busy today.”

“We are?” Elia asked.

Harry sent her another poisonous glare. He didn’t know what she was trying to do, but he didn’t like it. He looked to Rhaegar and he wordlessly told him to sort it out.

“Yes, we are going to be busy today and it is very kind of Haradarian to offer to look after the girls when he is only recently up and about. You will thank him.”

“Thank you, Haradarian, for agreeing to look after my daughters.”

Harry’s body stiffened and next to him, Rhaegar stiffened too.

“There’s no need for that tone.” Harry said through gritted teeth.

“We’re going for that discussion now. Prince Lewyn, if you could accompany us.” Rhaegar said as calmly as he could.

“I haven’t finished breaking my fast.” Elia complained.

“Yes you have.” Rhaegar said, hefting her to her feet and marching her out of the room with a hand on her arm. Prince Lewyn followed them with long, angry strides. He was not happy with his niece’s conduct either, Harry could tell.

“My love, do you want me to hold them, or one of them, while you break your fast?” His Mother asked.

Harry shook his head. “No thank you, Mother. I don’t want to break my fast yet. I will try some broth at midday, but I haven’t been up to eating much recently.”

“Will you be okay?”

“I think I’ll be just fine. I’m more certain of it now than I was last week, but then last week I was convinced that I really was dying and going to the seven hells.”

“Haradarian, my son, pick a member of the Kingsguard to stay here with you, I must go and listen to more whining of the peasant people.”

“If you allow, Father, I would like Ser Arthur to stay here with Ashara and I. I think I can handle two newborns, but if this active little warrior runs off, I don’t think I would ever be able to catch him again.”

His Father nodded, looking proudly at his growing grandson and he stood shakily. He took the rest of the Kingsguard with him, leaving just Ser Arthur behind for Harry’s personal use. His Mother was next to leave with Viserys and that left just Harry, Arthur, Ashara and his three babes.
He moved over to the soft seats with his beautiful little daughters and he kissed each of them on their tiny mouths.

“Ma, babies are sisters.” Rhaegon told him.

Harry nodded, very thankful that his son had kept that thought quiet until now. “Yes, Rhaegon, these are your two sisters. Will you give them a kiss?”

Rhaegon nodded and he bent forward to kiss one baby, and then the other.

“I wonder what Elia was playing at.” Ashara said as she settled next to him.

“Rhaegar will sort it.” Harry said firmly. “She will not get away with that, regardless of the fake marriage to Rhaegar or not. These are my daughters, not hers.”

“We watched them being pulled from your body.” Arthur told him. “None of us can deny that you birthed them. She has deluded herself with the pretence of being Rhaegar’s wife and the Mother of the Princesses.”

“Well she can knock those thoughts from her mind right now, I won’t stand for it.” Harry said firmly. “Rhaegar definitely won’t stand for it either. I could feel the anger coming from him.”

“You should have seen his expression.” Ashara said with a small shiver. “He was frightening.”

“He doesn’t get angry very often, but when he does you hope fervently that it’s not directed at you.” Harry agreed.

He settled back against the softly upholstered chair and he laid his baby girls over his chest. He smiled to see their jet black hair. He wondered if either of them would take his green eyes or if they would both take Rhaegar’s purple as their older brother, Rhaegon, had.
He smiled at them, as one, his youngest Helaena, yawned widely and chewed on air for a moment. He gently stroked across his daughters’ backs.

“They’re so beautiful.” Ashara told him, slouching back with him and running her fingers gently through Haeraenya’s black hair.

“I’m just thankful that they’ve both survived.” Harry said softly. “I was so scared when I found another babe inside my body. It’s no wonder I grew so big with them, but it does seem strange that I carried them both to nine turns, but I only carried Rhaegon to seven turns. I think it might be because he was my first ever babe and my body was not used to carrying, that or the gods heard my prayers and helped me to carry them to term.”

“It was a wondrous event.” Ashara said. “I have never seen anything of that nature before in my life, and I am like to never see it again.”

“You might. Rhaegar and I are planning to have more babes.”

“You’re going to have more after what happened with those two?” Arthur asked with shock.

“Of course, but not for a while. Believe it or not, birthing these two went so much smoother than when I had Rhaegon.”

“It must have been so much worse doing it with just Rhaegar with you and no idea what to expect.”

“The pain was also a bit more than I was expecting as well. I knew exactly what to expect this time around so I was naturally more prepared for it.”

“You said that you’d rather be stabbed and back in a crow cage during the labour of the Princesses.” Arthur said.

“I did?” Harry questioned, not really remembering much of what he had said during the pain hazed memories of his labour and birth.

Ashara nodded in agreement with her brother. “You did.”

“I would never want to go through captivity ever again, in fact I will make sure that I don’t, but, comparing the wounds I received while in captivity to labour and birthing, I believe that I would much rather be stabbed. Labour and birthing is a continuous, very sharp, almost throbbing pain and it doesn’t go away for hours and afterwards, you are left with the horrible pain of the stitches and the shock that has taken over your body for weeks afterwards. You can see it yourselves, how long was I down when I came out of captivity? A week?”

Ser Arthur nodded. “One full week once we got you back home and medicated and you woke up the very next day.”

“Yet it has taken nearly three weeks just for me to be able to stand up on my own two feet after birthing. I feel tired and weak, I can’t stand for very long, I can’t sit or stand without help and I am not anywhere near fit enough to look after myself or my children by myself. So yes, on that basis, I would rather be stabbed, but then I wouldn’t have my three perfect children, so I can never bring myself to regret it.”

“Are you able to birth because you were born on the holy day of the Mother?” Ser Arthur asked, sounding as if he had been thinking on the question for a while. “Is it the will of the Seven or the Mother herself?”

Harry shook his head. “We might never know why I was born able to birth my own babes, but if Rhaegar hadn’t found that prophecy, then we might never have found out about the ability. We wouldn’t have thought to try. So perhaps it was because I was born on the holy day of the Mother, but we would never have tried without that prophecy from Valyria, but one thing is for sure, everything we are able to do, all of the abilities that we have, it is all thanks to the gods, old and new.”

“Would you have loved him without that prophecy?” Ashara asked.

“It is impossible to say. I was only nine when Rhaegar showed it to me, I was too young for such thoughts or feelings, so him telling me could have very well influenced the way that I thought of him or saw him, or it might not have and I might have come to love him as I do regardless. But I know that here and now, I love him so much that only three other people in the whole world come before him in my heart, and those are Rhaegon, Haeraenya and Helaena. I think he would agree with me that our children come first for him too, but that doesn’t diminish our love for one another, not to me.”

Harry smiled at his three children with the utmost love. He watched as Rhaegon, his rapidly growing and strengthening boy, played with his toys on the floor by the fire. At least he was sitting still for a moment.
Haeraenya let out a hungry whine and Harry was over his embarrassment of feeding his girls from his body in front of others. He needed the help and he didn’t care anymore as Ashara helped him to carefully slip off his tunic from the one side of his body, exposing his tiny, milk filled breast, and she helped his oldest daughter to latch onto him.
He lay back, relaxing himself and he just let his daughter suckle from him. She had no teeth yet, so there was little pain with the action except for the minute or so of uncomfortable sensations as Haeraenya sucked his nipple into her mouth with a hard force that belied her small stature and proved her ravenous hunger.

“Helaena should want to latch on in five or so minutes.” Ashara said, almost to herself as she looked at the baby girl feeding from his body.

He had long since stopped caring about anyone seeing any part of him. He was no shy little boy anymore. More people than he ever would have wanted had seen his naked body and in a worse condition than mere pregnancy or breastfeeding at that. He had been broken and slowly starving to death in the crow cage and numerous people had seen him in that state and they could never unsee it, no matter how much he wished that they would. So it had to be put behind him and he had decided to move on from it completely by being comfortable with who he was and what he’d been through and with what he now looked like, scars included.
Ser Arthur looked uncomfortable still, but he was too curious to turn away as he, like his sister, sat and watched as Harry fed Haeraenya, winded her and passed her over to Ashara before he repeated the process with Helaena, who had started whining as he was winding her older sister.

“Are babies sad?” Rhaegon asked as he looked up at the cries.

“No, my sweet love. They’re just hungry.” Harry said soothingly. “Babies as young as your sisters cry when they want something as they can’t talk.”

“Will we teach them to talk?” Rhaegon asked.

“Yes, my love. We will.”

Rhaegon pushed himself up to his feet and he hurried over, clambering onto the soft settee that Harry was sat on before he stared at his sister feeding from Harry’s body. “She’s biting you, Ma.”

“She’s not, my love. She doesn’t have any teeth yet.” Harry chuckled.

“Oh.” Rhaegon said.

He reached out and touched Helaena’s face before snatching his hand back, as if he was unsure that he should be touching her. He looked at Harry shyly, as if expecting a reprimand.

“It’s alright to touch her, Rhaegon.” Harry said softly. “Just be gentle as she’s very fragile.”

Rhaegon nodded and he inched his hand back towards his sister and he gently touched her as she fed. He giggled to himself and he looked at Harry with a grin. Harry couldn’t help himself as he forced himself to lean forward so that he could kiss Rhaegon’s little mouth and his son screeched happily and laughed.
Harry smiled and he sighed as Helaena released his nipple and he was able to sit her up, propped against his shoulder, to wind her.
He laid her down in his lap, her bum to his belly and his knees supporting her head and he took hold of her feet and gently squeezed and rubbed them. Rhaegon bent over his sister and kissed her before he shimmied off of the settee and ran back to his toys. It warmed his heart to have his children all around him and he knew that no matter what happened now, he could never, ever regret his marriage to Rhaegar nor the three babes that they had had together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X

Harry had written to the Citadel himself, after Rhaegar had told others that he’d done as such when he actually hadn’t, as he hadn’t wanted a Maester here checking on him and finding that he wasn’t sick at all, or worse, finding the self-inflicted wound in his belly. Harry had all but demanded that they send Maester Gormon Tyrell as Pycelle’s replacement, as an honoured favour to his friends in Highgarden.
He had laughed when Rhaegar had told him of how he had set up Pycelle to be dismissed from office and how it had led to the man being burnt to death by their Father. Harry had never really forgiven Pycelle for upsetting Rhaegar so much and causing his husband additional distress after he had been rescued from the Kingswood Brotherhood, nor for the ugly, imperfect stitches that would have led to him having several rather horrific scars, a collection of permanent reminders from his time as a captive of the Kingswood Brotherhood.
It was now a full turn after that incident and Grand Maester Gormon was settling into his new chambers and he had started on his very first day, declaring that Rhaegar’s daughters were perfectly healthy and insisting that Harry would be fine if he kept eating and resting, but of course Harry already knew that, being an unofficial Maester himself, as soon as he’d come back into his right mind, and come off of the milk of the poppy, he had checked his daughters over very thoroughly and he had declared them perfectly fine and healthy. He also knew that all he really needed now was lots and lots of rest, and to keep bathing his stitched wound several times a day, but Grand Maester Gormon knew nothing about that. Not yet.
His Father was now a very dangerous person, even more so than he had been before. He was almost childlike in his ways, as he had become very gullible and a target for all his loyal ‘friends’ who took advantage of his madness to their own benefit, being lavished with land, titles and wealth for their manipulation. Harry could see what was happening and he’d pointed it out to Rhaegar, who had tried to put a stop to it, furious that a member of his family was being played in such a way, but it had only made things worse. Rhaegar was now back out of favour with their Father and tensions were mounting once again.
Harry had only just finished feeding his infant daughters when news of highborn guests holding a meeting with his Father reached his ears via a pair of gossiping servants. Panicked, he quickly found his Mother and passed her the three children, informing her of what was going on in clipped tones before he quickly raced to intervene at the Small Council Hall, where his Father and the small council were listening to a protest from House Baratheon and House Stark. Harry knew that there was only one thing they could have had a grievance against and it was about Rhaegar crowning Lyanna Stark with that fucking tourney crown eight turns ago now. It would not end well for them if he didn’t head things off and quickly.
He was correct in his assumption and he strode into the Small Council Hall just as his Father was screaming to have those present burnt.

“Father!” He called out joyfully.

“My sweetest, most beautiful son, have you come to watch the burning?” His Father asked in childlike glee, looking at him with weak, purple eyes that glimmered wetly, beaming with love for him.

“But of course! Nothing would make me happier.” He replied with false joy. He reminded himself that this was for his family. With Rhaegar out of favour at the moment, he had to do his all to stay in favour to keep his family safe from his own Father. “Oh, but Viserys was asking for you. He wishes to hear the tale of Balerion again, you have sparked his love of dragons and he will only hear you speak of them. How about I finish up here while you go and tell him more stories? I will not let you miss the burning.”

“Yes, yes my son, of course.”

King Aerys wobbled to his feet, gaunt, pale and underfed, such was his fear of being poisoned that he wasn’t eating. He was stoop backed, ungroomed and stinking. He was not even forty yet, but he looked twice his age and his mind was almost completely gone.
He shuffled off, only the Lord Commander going with him for protection and Harry breathed deeply, his face closing off and leeching of all the false joy that he had worn for his Father. He took the seat at the head of the small council, the seat his Father had just vacated, and he glared at the four men opposite him.

“What in the name of the seven hells do you think you’re doing?!” He demanded harshly. “Do you even realise the folly of your actions here today? Do you not understand how close all of you have come to being killed?”

“We only seek recompense for…”

“You would ask recompense from a mad man?!” Harry cut in angrily. “Do you have any wits about you at all? Do you not understand the sheer level of stupidity that you have shown just by coming here today?”

“My Prince.” Symon Staunton said calmly, making a gesture for him to calm down.

Harry grit his teeth and breathed deeply. Staunton was one of his Father’s false friends who was taking advantage of him. There were several of them on the small council alone, including Varys, Lord Chelstead and Lycerys Velaryon. He had to tread carefully here. He took another deep breath and he settled himself back in the chair.

“These are dangerous times.” He said lowly, calmly. “The King is as like to listen to you as he is to learn how to fly by flapping his arms. We live in constant fear of his changing moods and whims and here you just saunter in and demand recompense from him, for what?!” He demanded. “What could possibly be so important that you are risking your very lives to bring this matter to the attention of the crown?”

“It is pertaining to the damages done to my daughter.” Lord Stark insisted.

“For the damages done to her?” Harry repeated disbelievingly. “Such as what? Has she come to some sort of harm? Is she unwell?”

“You know damn well why!” Lord Robert Baratheon burst out, his face reddening.

“No, I do not believe that I do.” Harry answered mildly, placing one hand over the other on the table top and staring at the four men opposite him.

“Rhaegar…!”

“That is Prince Rhaegar to you.” Harry cut in immediately. “You will address him correctly, as is his right.”

Harry rather thought that he could see Lord Baratheon swelling with anger, but once again his friend, Ned Stark, calmed him.

“Prince Rhaegar crowned my daughter, Lyanna, with a crown at the tourney at Harrenhal.” Lord Rickard Stark told him.

“Yes, he did.” Harry agreed. “I was there and I witnessed as such. Did the crown have a thorn? Was she somehow injured when my brother placed the crown into her lap?”

“No, my Prince, but it has done damage to her betrothal. We seek recompense for that.”

“I see.” Harry said, lapsing into silence as he thought deeply on how to settle this situation.

It was not for long minutes that he spoke again and many a man in the hall shifted uncomfortably as he mentally deliberated with himself.

“Lord Baratheon, are you unhappy with your betrothal now that the woman in question has been…crowned by someone else at a tourney?” He made the question sound as ridiculous as it was. “Are you no longer willing to marry Lord Stark’s daughter because of this event?”

“I love her and I will still marry her!” Robert Baratheon burst out.

“Oh. But I was under the impression that you were here to claim damages for a broken betrothal.”

“The betrothal is not broken!” The large, muscular man hissed.

“Then what damages are you seeking from the crown if this has not harmed your betrothal?” Harry demanded.

“Rhae…Prince Rhaegar claimed her! He defiled her!”

Harry frowned. “Lord Stark, am I hearing this correctly, is Lord Baratheon right in claiming that my brother, the crown Prince Rhaegar, stole the maidenhead of your only daughter? If this is the case then you are fully entitled to claim a blood price for her lost maidenhead. Shall we call it ten dragons and put this matter to rest?”

All four men went red with anger at the insult that Harry had offered to them. He knew he should not have done as such, that he shouldn’t provoke the situation, but he also knew that Rhaegar had not slept with Lyanna and thus had not taken her lost maidenhead. He was also increasingly stressed and irritable because of his own situation of living in constant fear for himself and his family, especially now that Rhaegar was out of favour with their Father, but that still didn’t excuse his childish behaviour and he knew it, but he could not take it back now that it was said, he had to stay firm and stand by his words.

“Ten dragons is an insult!” Robert Baratheon shouted, slamming his fists into the table. “She is worth more than ten dragons!”

“Twelve then.” Harry said blithely. “I have a hard time offering you any more than that as you have already told me that you are still willing to marry the girl. You are claiming for a lost maidenhead and the shame that carries, not a loss of a betrothal or the loss of life.”

“My daughter is still a maiden, my Prince.” Lord Rickard told him as respectfully as he could manage still. His voice shook with supressed anger.

Harry over exaggerated his surprise at hearing that to the point of being comic, just to let everyone present know that he had already known as such.

“I had wondered.” He said. “I know absolutely that Rhaegar would not have touched her, I was wondering if perhaps she had had another in her bed and was just trying to claim that it was Rhaegar’s babe that she was carrying to put things into a better light.”

Which of course was another insult as he was insinuating that the Lady Lyanna was no more than a common whore. This seemed to be too much for Robert Baratheon to handle as he leapt to his feet and tried to approach him like an enraged aurochs. He was naturally prevented from getting within four paces of him by Ser Oswell Whent, who drew his sword and blocked his path with the tip of it.

“I meant no offense.” He lied obviously. “It is often the way of such Ladies who spread their legs before marriage to claim that they were ordered to do so by a member of the royal family to make themselves seem more favourable to others, particularly if they have bastard babes growing within them.”

“What about your own bastard babe?!” Robert yelled at him.

“I am certain that I have no knowledge of what you mean.”

“That babe of yours, Rhaegon. You claim him as legitimate but he looks the image of Ashara Dayne who you only married four turns past!”

“I believe that you meant to say that Prince Rhaegon looks like my Lady Wife, Princess Ashara whom I married four turns past.” Harry said mildly. “Yes he does, for the simple reason that my first Wife, Malana Maegyr, Rhaegon’s Mother, had a very similar appearance to the Lady Ashara. I have a type of woman that I find pleasing, full bodied, with dark hair and purple eyes. Both Malana and Ashara shared these traits and thus it is not surprising that you see the similarity between my son and my second Wife simply because they both have black hair and purple eyes. But you see, your theory falls through with but a small amount of logical thought, of which you apparently lack. I did not lay eyes upon the lovely Ashara Dayne until I travelled to Dorne for the first time in two-eighty-one AC, when Rhaegon was already six turns old. How then could I have met her, gotten to know her, fathered Rhaegon upon her, without the knowledge of either of her older brothers or her younger sister, who would have at least seen her with me and seen her swelling with child and would have certainly realised that something was amiss when she laboured and then appeared with a newborn babe. Are you saying that after Ashara birthed my babe that I went back to Dorne to collect my son, to take him to Dragonstone, just to sail back to Kings Landing and then travel all the way back to Dorne with him again? Do you even think before you speak? Sit back down!”

Harry waited until Ser Oswell had prodded Robert Baratheon back into his seat with the sharp tip of his blade. He took several deep breaths and looked back to Lord Stark.

“If your daughter is still a maiden and still has the very same betrothal, then what are you claiming from the crown?” He demanded. “Have the betrothal terms changed?”

“No, my Prince…”

“Has her price been affected?”

“No, my Prince, but…”

“Then what in the seven hells are you claiming for?!” He demanded. “I have a million other things to be overseeing and doing as my duty as a Prince and you are here to waste my time and seemingly to throw your lives away all because Rhaegar crowned Lady Stark with a tourney crown! What do you even want?!”

“I want his head!” Robert Baratheon shouted out and Harry sucked in a deep breath to prevent the automatic desire to kill the threat to his Husband.

“You want the head of the crowned Prince of the Seven Kingdoms because he crowned a woman with flowers at a tourney?” Harry repeated slowly and clearly, as if he had never heard anything so stupid in all of his life. In fact, he hadn’t heard anything as stupid and he was forced to listen to his Father’s insane, daily ramblings and he still remembered his Father’s food taster suckling the nipples of Viserys’ wet nurse to check for poison.

“Yes! It is the only justice applicable to…”

“Justice?” Harry laughed. “Since when did it become a heinous crime warranting a beheading to crown a simple woman at a simple tourney? Lady Lyanna was not harmed, she has her maidenhead intact and there is no loss of betrothal. No damage has been done by my unthinking brother when he crowned Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty and therefore, your claim for damages is denied on the basis that no damage has been done.”

“So you admit that Prince Rhaegar acted in a manner unfit of his station?” Lord Stark said immediately, perceptively picking up on his words.

“Of course he did. He gave the crown to the first woman he saw without thinking of what he was truly doing. He was much too happy to win his first champion’s tilt and that was all he cared about at the time, not some ridiculous practice of crowning a woman from the spectators. Do you truly think that he would have crowned Lady Lyanna Stark if he had given any thought to the matter whatsoever?”

“Why didn’t he crown his own betrothed?” The quiet Stark, Eddard, spoke up for the first time.

“Elia had asked him not to if he won the final tilt.” Harry said easily. “She is not fond of attention and would have been embarrassed to have been put on the spot in such a way. To prove how ridiculous Rhaegar took the entire matter, he tried to crown me as his Queen of Love and Beauty before giving the title and crown to Lady Stark. Rhaegar thought nothing of the mere gesture and on his part, it meant absolutely nothing. Thoughtless it might have been, yes, but it was also a harmless gesture and no damage has been done.”

“The insult cannot be…” Robert Baratheon started but Harry cut him off with a sigh.

“What insult? There was no insult, if anything you should be glad that someone else, particularly Rhaegar, found your betrothed attractive. The only thing that has been harmed by all of this is your pride and I cannot offer you a blood price for injured pride!”

Harry stood himself up and Robert Baratheon did the same, leaning heavily upon the table. Harry ignored just how large Baratheon was in comparison to himself, that was nothing new. He was of average height, perhaps just a shade under average, but Robert Baratheon was a huge man, well over average height. He refused to allow himself to be intimidated however, he was a Prince and he had six members of the Kingsguard at his back.

“This isn’t over! I will have his head for this!” Robert Baratheon raged.

“Enough!” Harry snapped. “I have heard your claim and it has been dismissed! You have absolutely no cause to ask for recompense from the crown as no damage has been done! You will cease this ridiculous claim and there will be no more talk of having Rhaegar’s head!”

“Or what?” Robert Baratheon challenged angrily and Harry drew himself up to his full height and stared stonily at the taller, more muscular man.

“Or what?” Harry repeated softly. He chuckled. “How about, for starters, I’ll strip you of all lands, holdings and titles. I will give your ancestral seat of Storm’s End to whomever I please, or perhaps even keep it for myself, and after that, I will put you and your brothers to death and end the Baratheon line.”

“On what grounds?” Robert growled. “The people will not stand…”

“On the grounds of treason!” Harry interrupted loudly. “You are asking for the head of the crown Prince! Do you think the people will agree that your cause is just? The head of their silver Prince because he injured your pride by crowning your betrothed at a tourney?! Your claim is not only utterly ridiculous, but it is treason! If you continue to speak of this matter now that it is settled, I will charge you with treason, all four of you!” He added, looking at the three Starks. “Storm’s End and Winterfell will be forfeit to the crown and all males of your name will be put to the sword…or to the flame as is my Father’s preferred method of execution these days. You will leave and speak no more of this!”

Harry watched sternly, silently, as all four of them left the Small Council Hall with straight backs and a sense of growing anger, and he sat back in his seat and took deep breaths.

“That was very well handled.” Varys told him softly. “Very well done, my Prince.”

Harry sighed and run a hand through his hair. “It could have gone better and perhaps I could have showed more patience, but have you honestly heard anything quite as ridiculous?” He asked them. “Claiming damages for injured pride because Rhaegar crowned someone at a fucking tourney!” He laughed and he was joined by several others. “Of course Rhaegar could have crowned someone else, Ashara was sat right there and there are no doubts that she was the most beautiful woman in attendance, but why should he have had to? What does a tourney crown mean? What does a tourney title mean? A woman will hold both for a short time until the next tourney and someone else crowns another woman in her place. Is it worth beheading Rhaegar? Of course not. I don’t know what they were thinking. Would any of you allowed them to behead Rhaegar over this?”

“Of course not.”

“No, my Prince.”

“Absolutely not.”

Harry breathed easier then and he nodded.

“What will you tell the King, your Father, about this matter? He had already ordered them burnt when you arrived.” Lord Owen Merryweather, the new Hand of the King, after Lord Tywin had resigned his position of office after King Aerys had stolen his only, able-bodied son from him by placing him on the Kingsguard at the tourney of Harrenhal eight turns before. That castle truly was cursed.

“I don’t believe that he needs to be reminded that this meeting has taken place. By now he has told Viserys several stories and has forgotten that anyone even came to see him. There is no need for four men to lose their lives because of this foolishness, not if they drop this matter and let it lie.”

All the men present nodded.

“I think that would be for the best.” Lord Owen Merryweather agreed.

Harry sighed and stood back up. “I need to go and speak to Rhaegar. If this matter persists then he needs to be aware of it. If the matter has been dropped, which I fervently hope that it has, then he will get a good laugh from what has transpired here today.”

He gave a short bow to the members of the small council and he left, the Kingsguard automatically following after him.

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, my Prince, but you’ve gone very pale.” Ser Barristan told him concernedly.

Harry touched his stomach to check for bleeding, wetness or heat, any of which may have indicated a torn stitch or an infection. He felt nothing but the expected soreness. He laid a hand to his head and he frowned.

“I believe that I may have another fever.” He sighed. “Perfect, just what I want, another sickness so soon after I’ve only just recovered from the last.”

“What has caused it?” Ser Jaime asked, looking at him a little fearfully.

Harry snorted. “Oh to see your face. I do believe that if you were not held by your oath you would actually take a step back from me. Fear not, Ser Jaime, I am not contagious elsewise my beautiful Wife would have fallen sick by now, or my son would have, as they sleep in my bed chamber with me and I kiss them both several times daily.”

Harry looked to Ser Arthur, who turned and got his sworn brother Prince Lewyn to pull off his mailed gauntlet, before Arthur put his hand over Harry’s forehead before touching his cheeks and his neck.

“You are warmer than you should be. Come, you need to rest. This stress has not been good for you.”

Harry was escorted by the six Kingsguard, into Maegor’s Holdfast and to the royal solar and he took off his own boots and laid on the soft seat. He laid there, quietly, ignoring the occasional clink of armour as the silent Kingsguard shifted slightly around him. He didn’t sleep, but he did doze lightly as he laid still and rested.
He heard when the door opened and closed and he heard his son giggling before he felt him approaching where he was lying.

“Ma!” Rhaegon cried out, having spotted him and Harry got a hard smack to the face for his trouble.

“Rhaegon! We do not hit the people we love!” Rhaegar said angrily.

“We have got to condition that habit from him.” Harry croaked, rubbing his cheek and easing himself up carefully.

“Are you well?” Rhaegar asked him.

“No.” Harry said. “My head is spinning.”

Rhaegar touched his head and frowned. “What medicines do you need?”

“Strong ones.” Harry replied as he held his arms out and Rhaegar smiled as he placed the twins, Haeraenya and Helaena into his lap. They were so small that Rhaegar could hold them both with one arm.

He picked up Rhaegon instead as he sat next to Harry on the settee.

“What did the Starks want? More volunteers for the wall?”

Harry snorted. “No, they wanted recompense for the insult you gave them by crowning Lyanna Stark.”

“What?” Rhaegar frowned, studying Harry’s face. “Surely you jest.”

Harry shook his head. “No, they came here to petition Father, for your head, because you ‘defiled’ Lyanna Stark when you crowned her.”

Rhaegar laughed so hard that a tear ran down his cheek and he wiped it away with a careless gesture.

“Many a woman has wished that I could take their maidenhead and put a babe in their bellies with a mere look, but fortunately such a thing is impossible.” He said once he had calmed down. “Defiled with a tourney crown.” He chuckled.

“I couldn’t believe it.” Harry agreed. “I have never heard anything so stupid in all of my life.”

Rhaegon wriggled down to the floor and toddled off to play in and around the legs of the Kingsguard. He giggled and lifted his arms up to Ser Arthur Dayne and happily named him ‘Morning,’ as Harry had done when he was a mere boy.

“Morning, up, up!” He shrieked.

Harry burst out laughing and shared a grin with Rhaegar.

“I’ve been here before.” Ser Arthur sighed as he bent and picked up the youngest Prince Rhaegon.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have such a memorable epithet.” Prince Lewyn teased. “That’s two young Princes who have believed that your name is Morning.”

“No one even calls me morning!” Ser Arthur complained.

“I do.” Harry said happily. “You’ve always been Morning to me, even after I learnt that your name was Arthur. If I’m talking to Rhaegar about you and I don’t want the servants listening in, I will call you Morning.”

“Do you have names for all of us?” Prince Lewyn asked suspiciously.

“Of course.” Harry answered, not elaborating.

“So, what’s mine?” Prince Lewyn asked as nonchalantly as he could manage.

Harry just laughed and grinned at his friend.

“No, you can’t do this to me. I want to know what you call me.”

“He calls you Pomegranate.” Rhaegar said.

“Rhaegar!” Harry complained.

“Pomegranate?” Prince Lewyn demanded incredulously as his sworn brothers laughed at him.

“To be fair you got that name when I was six.” Harry defended. “I’d heard the kitchen servants calling you a seedy sweet talker, so I asked Mother what it meant and she told me that it meant that you had lots of seeds in you, like a pomegranate. Of course now that I’m older I knew what the servants meant, and what my Mother was alluding to, but at the time it was a very innocent name for you.”

Prince Lewyn laughed so happily that it made Harry smile.

“What do you call me?” Barristan asked curiously.

“Dusty.”

“What? Why?”

“I was about three and you’d been training in the yard and I was watching you from Ser Gwayne’s shoulders and it was a very hot, dry day and you were rolling around so much that you were filthy. I could have called you dirt instead, but no, you got named Dusty. I don’t use that name often anymore.”

“I don’t even want to know what mine is.” Ser Oswell Whent exclaimed.

“I do!” Prince Lewyn chuckled.

“I misunderstood your name for years.” Harry said. “I thought you were Ser Os Well. So I used to go around calling you Ser Os. When someone first mentioned your family name to me it went something like ‘Ser Oswell Whent’ and I, in all innocence, turned around and asked ‘he went where?’ That was when others realised that I didn’t know who you were or what your family name was and Maester Mellciter all but forced me to learn the noble families of the Riverlands, focusing heavily on the Whents of Harrenhal.” Harry laughed.

“You were so sweet as a boy.” Rhaegar told him. “You were always singing and holding flowers. It’s no wonder that half the realm thinks that you’re secretly a woman.”

Harry kicked him. “Lord Dayne was mistaken.” He sniffed.

“Lord Dayne isn’t the only one.”

“Then, like Lord Dayne, I will put them right one at a time!”

“You may leave us now.” Rhaegar said, standing up and dismissing the Kingsguard. “Father and Viserys are in his bed chambers with Ser Gerold and Mother is in the garden.”

“Do you require someone to remain with you, my Prince?” Ser Barristan asked.

“No, if you put someone on Maegor’s bridge, we’ll be perfectly fine.” Rhaegar said. “I need to make sure my brother gets some sleep and this little warrior needs to sleep too.” He added as he took Rhaegon back from Ser Arthur.

“No!” Rhaegon said immediately. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

Rhaegar ignored him as he sat down and instead forced Rhaegon to stay lying down, clamping his little body in his arms, his muscles bulging as he kept Rhaegon lying down and as still in his lap as he could while Rhaegon was kicking and squirming.

“You might want to leave before he has a complete tantrum.” Harry said as he cuddled the twin girls, who were shifting a little and waking up. They would need a feed very soon and the Kingsguard needed to be gone by then.

Rhaegon almost cut Harry off with an ear piercing shriek, which woke up both girls, who both started crying too, adding to the deafening noise in the room.

“Are you sure?” Ser Barristan asked over the noise, raising his voice just to be heard.

“Yes, off you go before you all get sore heads and ringing ears.” Rhaegar said loudly as Rhaegon kicked and shrieked.

Many of them didn’t need to be told twice and as soon as they were gone, Harry slipped his tunic completely off and latched both his girls onto a breast each, which shut them up immediately, and it left Rhaegar to stand up and pace with their nineteen turn old son.
Harry started humming, getting a tune, then he started to sing softly. Rhaegon’s cries hiccupped, then trailed off as he listened to Harry sing. It wasn’t five minutes after Rhaegon had finally fallen silent that he slipped off to sleep, leaving Harry to finish the song and focus on the feeding girls.
Rhaegar settled Rhaegon onto a different seat, covering him over with a blanket their Mother had made herself, before coming back to take one of their girls, hefting her gently over his broad shoulder and winding her as Harry did the same with the other.

“Helaena’s eyes are getting darker.” Harry said, staring into those dark blue eyes, with just a touch of purple. “They’re definitely going purple, Rhaegar.”

Rhaegar sat back down and looked at his youngest daughter, who was mouthing along her own fist. Her eyes flicked up to him as he appeared in her line of vision, before she went back to looking at everything.

“You’re right, they are going purple.” Rhaegar chuckled. “She’s going to look just like Rhaegon.”

“Are Haeraenya’s changing?”

Rhaegar looked at their older daughter and he shook his head. “No, I still say that they’re paler than Helaena’s eyes. I think they’re going to go green like your eyes.”

“That’ll make things difficult.” Harry sighed as he handed Helaena over to Rhaegar and lay back, checking his stitches carefully, fingering them one by one in turn.

“Are you okay?” Rhaegar asked after long minutes of silence.

Harry hummed. “I believe so, yes. All the stitches are in place, none have ripped or come loose and there’s no heat or redness that might point towards an infection. I think I’m going to be just fine and these stitches can come out soon.”

“How do you know when to take them out?” Rhaegar worried. “If it’s too soon…”

“If parts haven’t healed when I take them out then I’ll re-stitch those areas and soak them with salt, vinegar and cloves. We’ve been through this before, Rhaegar. I’ll be just fine.”

“The fever?” Rhaegar questioned.

“Completely normal with stitches.” Harry assured him. “Look here.” Harry said, indicating his belly. “No redness, no weeping, it’s completely dry and healing well.” Harry pulled his skin apart, opposite ways from where his stitches had been put in, to show that the skin was already healing. “See, these could come out today, but I’ll leave it until I’m feeling a little stronger. But I really don’t want to leave them in too long, because the skin will grow over them and then they’ll have to be cut out, thus making more work and extending my healing time. Not to mention opening me back up to infection.”

“I love you so much.” Rhaegar told him out of the blue.

Harry, though startled, smiled happily. “I love you too. When are we going to try for baby number four?”

Rhaegar laughed, low and deep. A sound filled with happiness and male pride.

“Let’s wait for you to heal from baby two and three first, my love. Then we’ll see about baby number four…or egg number two.”

Harry grinned and nodded. “Yes, or egg number two. We need to find a way to hatch them, Rhaegar. Our ancestors have all tried using fire and it hasn’t worked, so if heat isn’t the answer, then it must be something else. Something that we’re missing.”

“I’ll go back through the archives and see if there isn’t a book, scroll or scrap of parchment that I haven’t missed.” Rhaegar said determinedly. “I just don’t want to leave you alone with all three of our babes.”

Harry snorted. “Especially not with Elia trying to take them from me at every opportunity. I can’t stop her if there is anyone around.”

“You are a Prince.” Rhaegar said firmly. “She is only my Wife.”

“But she is supposed to be their Mother.”

“She’s not, you are. If she tries to take them from you again. Refuse.”

“It’ll look bad.” Harry fretted.

“I don’t care. In fact I rather think it would amuse Father, which will keep you in his favour. It won’t be for very long now. We will be on the Iron Throne by the end of next year if my plans progress as I wish.”

Harry smiled and he pulled his tunic back on carefully as Rhaegar went and laid both the sleeping girls next to their older brother, covering them over with the same blanket. He came back to Harry and started touching him. Soft, gentle touches that relaxed Harry and made him smile, even as his Husband lulled him into a light doze.
They had it all planned out, they had their allies in their corner and they were going to get the Kingsguard firmly on their side. Jaime Lannister was the newest, thus the most likely to reject their idea, but then Harry reasoned, Jaime Lannister had no reason to love King Aerys, who despite raising him to the Kingsguard, the young Jaime had come to realise, as he and Rhaegar had, that it was to spite his Father and not to honour him personally for his talents.
As soon as they had the Kingsguard, that was it. Lord Jon Connington was firmly by their side, they had the Dayne’s, some of the Martell’s and the Tyrell’s too. They had Ser Myles Mooton and Ser Richard Lonmouth too, Rhaegar’s ex-squires who were now knighted themselves and had remained friends with him, and firmly loyal.
Harry sat back up with a yawn and he shifted himself around and rested himself down against Rhaegar, who smiled and swung his leg up, behind Harry’s back, so that he could lie between Rhaegar’s legs and cuddle into him more easily.
He was lost to sleep as soon as Rhaegar sunk his fingers into Harry’s hair and used his fingertips to massage his scalp and stroke down his neck and under his chin, over his jaw and ears and back into his hair. Everything was going to work out just fine, they had planned for everything…except they hadn’t and near the end of that year, in the twelfth and final moon of the year, Robert Baratheon started a rebellion that no one had anticipated and that they hadn’t seen coming and they were thrown into a full blown war that they had to fight and win before they could do anything.
It didn’t help matters at all that Harry had fallen pregnant with their second egg and just a few days after the news of the uprising came to them in Kings Landing, he had been forced to take to his bed and cut himself open, easing the egg out of his body and stitching himself up once again. The egg was locked in his and Rhaegar’s bed chamber, in a nest of fabrics to keep it safe and he had been forced to walk around with a newly stitched wound, every step a flaming agony as they prepared for the battle to come as they made plans, stratagems, and set aside the provisions that they would need for the coming war. They quickly called in their banners, their loyal families and their men. Then…then they had to fight. They had to fight for their lives, for their family and for their Throne.

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A/N: We now get to the crux of this fic, and to the rebellion. There are a lot of warnings in the next chapters, for human sacrifice and a lot of deaths too! So please heed them wisely if you need to, but mostly I hope you enjoy this fic as I have writing it.
Chapter five has gone up and over 40,000 words now, so it’s another long chapter! But everything comes to a head now in the next chapter and it is the last ‘true’ chapter too. We only have chapter five and then the epilogue to go and then we’ll be completely finished.
So until next week when the next chapter is updated, I hope that you’ve enjoyed this chapter and will continue to enjoy the rest of this story,

StarLight Massacre. X
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The Dragons' Rebirth