AN: First and foremost, I DO NOT own any of elements that I am using for this story. I am merely smashing two different worlds together under a basic premise, which is mine even if it is not too terribly original, to see what will happen. So let's see where this takes us all, yes?

AN: Hello. To those of you who are new to my work: Welcome! To the readers who are already familiar with me I can honestly say that I am sorry to those of you who have wanted to see a continuation of my previous works and I hope you enjoy this new one. Don't worry though, I am still working on the others when I have the time. It should be said though that I am currently revising 'To Change a World' with better editing and more detail in certain areas. Sadly though 'A Game of Queens and Their Wardens' if I ever do pick it up again will have to be completely rewritten. I took a look at it the other day and I had to resist the urge to bang my head into the desk...

AN: Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this bit that I have for you. It should be noted that this is more of an experiment than anything else, but if you would all like to see more of this please let me know. And as always, don't expect perfection, because while I do try I know that there are going to be mistakes on occasion.

"Dude, I've said it before and I'll say it again, that's just gross," the blonde haired purple eyed prince's strange new 'friend' said as they road alongside each other on their way back to the Capital, "I mean I get that we're from different cultures and all that, but still. Eww!" They were returning from an inspection of his companions recently anointed training grounds where said man was in the process of teaching knights and footmen both what he said it meant to be a soldier.

"I'll admit to it being a bit odd, but it is tradition. A tradition that has helped keep the ruling line pure for generations." The prince shot back with more than a little heat in his voice, his platinum blonde hair sway with his head in a display of his rising temper. A temper that he knew would only serve to make his current situation all the more irritating, so he was trying his best to keep it restrained. No one else aside from his closest friends would have dared speak to him in such a manner, and none of them would have done so in regards to this particular subject. His current companion wouldn't have been able to say such things in his presence either, if he wasn't as good as he was at what he did.

"Look, I get that its tradition and all that, but your mom and dad are also your aunt and uncle, so I still have to say that it's not right." Xander said with a shake of his head. It had been months since he had been unceremoniously dumped into the middle of prince Rhaegar's entourage via a strange portal and a screamingly naked disposition. Thankfully, they had gotten the stranger clothed quickly enough, with him now (months later) wearing what seemed to have become his standard green and brown leathers over matching linen and wool clothes which were themselves covered in a light mail which was attached to small interlocking steel plates that contoured around his form. Interesting in design but rather dull, if still of a fine cut and make, when compared to Rhaegar's own ensemble of ornate red and black, but apparently that was the way he preferred things. This coupled with the wickedly sharp hand axe at his hip, reinforced steel and leather bracers on his forearms, and a number of hidden daggers placed along his person the man could easily be considered deceptively modest. Yes, deceptively modest, such a simple phrase that managed to wrap up Xander Harris fairly well so far as anyone who knew him could tell.

To say that Xander's sudden appearance had been unlike anything Rhaegar had ever witnessed before would be more than a mild understatement, and if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes he honestly wouldn't have believed it. He and his father's Hand, Jon Connignton, along with his personal guards a discrete distance away, had been out riding while discussing some of his father's latest actions. Rhaegar at that point had begun to worry about his sire's stability along with the safety of his mother, and Jon had been one of the few people he could safely confide in, despite Rhaegar being his father's first born.

Suddenly there had been a rumble like thunder from the sky above them, accompanied by a few sharp flashes of light that had nearly blinded him before he heard screaming from overhead. He had only had a few seconds after that to look for the source of the voice before a very naked man landed right on top of him, unseating him from his horse in the process. After the initial confusion and caution had taken their turns with him and the people with him, Rhaegar had made sure to keep the newly introduced 'Xander' close. After all, it wasn't every day that a random person just up and falls from the sky only to hit you upon impact, as if someone above had been specifically aiming for you. A naked man that had admitted to not knowing anything whatsoever about where he was or how he'd gotten there. And while he may have now thought that the Gods truly existed and that they had been the ones to send Xander to him, despite said man's claims to the contrary, as a consequence he was also now of the mind that said Gods were completely and utterly insane. Why else would they send him a man like Xander if they weren't totally unhinged in some way?

"Well, be at peace with the fact that the majority of the kingdoms agree with you." Rhaegar said rather grumpily. He was well aware of just how the Kingdoms felt on the subject of some of the Targaryen's oldest marital practices, and how more and more discontent the masses were becoming as a result of them, but that didn't mean Xander needed to rub his face in it. Didn't the man harp on him enough as it was?

At first the prince and heir to the Iron Throne had wanted nothing to do with the strange slightly younger man with his even stranger ideas, despite wanting to keep him close. He had felt like the man was just another burden that those above had decided to put on his shoulders. But over time he had come to peace with the fact he had received his new companion for a reason. Xander's ideas often flew in the face of almost everything he believed in, and every time they would debate on whatever topic that struck their fancy somehow or another Rhaegar would mostly lose. Like now for instance…

"Look," Xander said a little more gently as they continued to ride, surrounded by guards with royal banners flapping gently in a rather pleasant breeze, "where I'm from it's been proven that breeding to close together in a family line causes problems. Whether or not you want to admit it you know as well as I do that the inbreeding is what causes your family to sprout out random bits of crazy. And frankly you lot have gotten off lucky with just that."

"If you weren't as good…" Rhaegar started in a rankled voice only to be interrupted.

"But I am as good as I am." Xander said sharply. "In fact, as far as you and I know there isn't anyone else on this planet that can do what I do. At least not yet anyway… That will change quickly enough for some, when the methods behind my training become better known." Rhaegar shot him a look as the men surrounding them stirred uncomfortably, and the prince knew that the strange man wasn't boasting, he was simply stating a fact. Nor was he lying when he said that others in and around the Seven Kingdoms would adjust to the new ways of doing things that Xander had brought to them. After all, no one like being left behind.

But what had it been that had made this stranger become so very valuable to Rhaegar and his family in such a relatively short amount of time? The answer, in point of fact, was simple. Xander had conveyed many new ideas and reasonings to them since entering Rhaegar's world. New and more efficient ways of doing things were his to introduce whenever the younger man thought to bring them about. Ideas scarcely dreamed of were confirmed left and right along with the innovative ways of looking at things that the man had seemingly produced from nowhere. In short Xander had begun the ever so slow process of bringing change to Rhaegar's future kingdom. Real, if seemingly small, change.

He had given smiths their new techniques for forging stronger steel, farmers who had listened to him generally yielded greater crops, and enforcers of the law such as the Gold Cloaks had found better ways of executing the sense of order that they helped to keep. By the Gods, the man hadn't even been with them for a full year, but thanks to his connection with the Targaryens he had already begun bringing about more civil minded modifications to their society than in any known generation past. For example there was now free schooling for the small folks in those areas where he could bring it about and stricter punishments for those nobles who had been proven to blatantly abuse those under them. Granted, all the things the prince's mind had just turned to were very much still in progress, and probably would be for years upon years to come, but the point remained valid. The seeds that may eventually lead to a new world had been planted and were now slowly growing. But the one thing above all else that Xander had brought to Westeros, the one thing that had made him entirely vital in the eyes of those who knew what he was doing, were the concepts behind what he called the "Special Forces".

Not too terribly long after he had finished adjusting to the new world around him, and despite everything he was already working on, Xander had taken some of the best warriors under the Targaryen banner and begun to reshape them. Now, it wasn't that their actual combat capabilities were horrible, in fact Xander freely admitted to the point of how he considered them to be better in hand to hand then he would probably ever be. No, it was that the mindset most knights and soldiers had was, by his estimation, completely deplorable. So after a while of knowing one another Xander had put forth the idea to essentially retrain some of those knights that didn't stand too far above their peers and have them focus not only on singular combat, but also heavily upon working efficiently and cohesively within an assigned team or squad, tactics and strategy, self-discipline, survival training, and (oddly enough) encouraging soldiers to develop a hobby or craft in their spare time for the sake of creativity.

At first, when Xander had first told Rhaegar of what he wanted to do, the prince had just scoffed at him and had quite bluntly refused to take the idea to his father. Xander was already doing so much by that point, almost like he couldn't quite get himself to ever sit down, and the prince hadn't thought that the man needed more on his plate. In the end though, regardless of Xander's constant pestering, it had been his mother who had changed his mind.

Now on a more personal level, the one thing that Rhaegar was truly grateful to Xander for was the fact that the man was in no real way scared of his father the King. Wary yes, as he should be, but not anywhere near actually scared. Rhaegar knew that his father had been abusing his mother for a long while before the man currently riding in communal silence beside him had come into their lives, but he had been unable to do more than show the smallest amounts of concern here and there as his father's madness grew larger and more pronounced by the day. Then Xander had come, and the King eventually started to have accidents after every episode of mistreatment that Rhaella had to endure by his hand. Now while no one was able to actually find proof that it was the strange new man that was behind King Aerys becoming more battered and bruised with each new trespass upon the Queen, everyone with even half a brain at least suspected it. As a result this had gotten him the favor of the Queen who, after hearing Xander's ideas on the subject of the Targaryen armies, had sought out her son to try and convince him herself the very next day.

The resulting experiment, which as far as Aerys knew was being run by his heir, even though everyone around him knew better, had taken time, but could ultimately labeled a success. Granted, a relatively small success, but a success all the same. Xander had been given a grand total of 100 men and told to turn them into the soldiers he had promised the Royal family. Given what Xander had said he was going to do to those men the resulting training had been so intense from the very beginning that over half of them had taken the offered option of dropping out inside of the first month. The training for all those who sought to make it through the man from another world's insanity was to last six months... And by the end of those six months a mere 25 soldiers had 'graduated' and earned Xander's seal of approval. But, oh, what soldiers they were. Disciplined, skilled, intelligent, and completely ruthless while on the battlefield; the soldiers Xander had produced were the farthest thing from just some unfortunate farm boys that lords would commonly conscript before shoving spears in their hands.

When all was said and done the remaining 25 men had then been split up into five different teams, or squadrons as Xander called them, with a rotation of two teams to handle the day to day training of the newest batch of troops as Xander looked over them at any one time, and the other three being assigned missions whenever and wherever the crown thought to place them. Well, it was more like where Rhaegar, Xander, and even Rhaella thought to place them, but no one who really knew what was going on was going to inform Aerys any differently.

Regardless, with all that Xander had done, all that he had accomplished in his time with them, Rhaegar found himself grateful that he had kept the younger man around. No matter how annoying he could become at times. That, and it helped the blonde's mood whenever the prince brought up Xander's quietly growing level of fame among the small folk and the more military minded, along with more than a small amount of infamy amongst the higher echelons of Westeros' nobility, the man would amuse him by sputtered denials and self-depreciations. If nothing else this could always make Rhaegar smile.

Suddenly shaking his head free of such thoughts, Rhaegar brought his mind back to the present and away from his companion, who was now riding silently beside him, there would be time enough for that sort of thinking at a later point. For now he had to get his mind back on the upcoming tourney that House Whent was hosting at Harrenhal. Lords and ladies from every major to mid-level house in the Seven Kingdoms were going to be there and his father was insistent that they make a strong appearance as well. He feared that his rule may be slipping in the minds of his subjects, which was more than possible in Rhaegar's eyes due to his increasingly erratic behavior, and King Aerys wanted to show that he was still firmly in control, despite how his appearance and speech had begun to suffer due to his delusions.

Never the less, he would be there, along with the rest of his family, and come hell or high water he would be dragging Xander and some of his 'Special Forces' along with him. After all, what noble didn't like showing off what they had at their command every once in a while? Granted, he tried not to do so very often, but still…

*** Two Years Later ***

As Xander quickly slit the throat of Gregor Clegane, also known as The Mountain, while another member of the squad he'd brought with him bashed in the head of the very over-weight Amory Lorch the only thing the now named Lord of Soldiers could think was, 'Rhaegar, you fucking idiot.'

Xander had known things were going to fall apart the moment the now deceased prince had name the young Lyanna Stark Queen of Love and Beauty at the tourney of Harrenhal instead of his wife. He had warned the man, told him that his new found obsession with the teenage girl was a bad idea, but Rhaegar hadn't listened. And now there Xander was, cleaning up the resulting mess. His informants within the Lannister camp had tipped him off to Tywin Lannister's plan to have the rest of the royal family assassinated so as to gain favor with the now soon to be king, Robert Baratheon, and Xander was just grateful that he and his had been capable of getting to Elia and Rhaenys in time. Sadly, he hadn't been fast enough to save little Aegon who'd had his face smashed in against the wall right as the Soldier Lord had broken down the door.

Bringing his mind back to the present Xander shoved aside the now dead weight of Gregor Clegane and extended his hand to the former princess who was currently lying on the floor. Clegane, the sick bastard that he was, had been just about to mount her before he and his had entered the room. Outside of the chamber's large window, where the two perpetrator's had climbed through, high flames along large billows of smoke could be clearly seen, while the sounds of steel and screaming could be heard.

"Elia," Xander said as he moved forward a little to grab her hand when she didn't immediately take his, "we have to go." The Soldier Lord had never been much for titles, always using them sparingly and only when he had to. Such an attitude drove most of the nobility a little crazy, as a rule, but apparently Elia Martell found it refreshing so she never sought to force the issue. The two of them had grown close over the last two years, ever since Rhaegar had essentially disregarded her for a younger woman. The first year he had been with them Xander had kept his distance out of some sort of deference to her position. That and he was just too damn busy. After Lyanna's 'abduction' though this changed. Granted, he knew that Rhaegar still loved his wife and children, but not in the way he had loved Lyanna. No, he had loved the Stark girl to almost the point of mania and by the end thoughts of her had all but consumed him. As a result he had grown increasingly distant from his family as time went on, so Xander had taken it upon himself to watch over said family in his absence.

As the months passed he and Elia had eventually gotten to the point of being able to call themselves friends, and so he had spread what protection he could offer to her and her children as well as Rhaella. He'd had men guarding them discreetly around the clock from every threat, including the King, for over a year up until that day. In fact their guards had been so unobtrusive that so far as he could tell not even Varys the Spider had been able to discover them. Which was a good thing, otherwise Xander would not have been able to get to them as quickly as he had, despite the timeliness of the warning he'd received.

Elia was still in a light sleeping shift, having been drawn out of bed only a few moments before, and looking over to where Rhaenys was now being firmly held by one of his people he saw that the young girl was in the same situation. Noticing his commander's look the man quickly put the child down, took off his cloak, and wrapped it around the frightened and shivering girl before picking her back up again.

"Xander, what's happening?" Elia asked as he pulled her to her feet before releasing her hand. He then cleaned his blade of The Mountain's blood before sheathing it.

"The Targaryen's have lost; the city is being sacked. So we really need to go, right now." Xander replied urgently despite his overall calm demeanor. Then taking off the rucksack he had strapped to his back he reached inside for a change of clothes before handing them over to Elia. Seeing the dark make of the garments her friend had just handed her and realizing that they looked an awful lot like the standard uniform of those under Alexander's command she asked,

"What are these for?"

"Those are so you won't be as easily recognized while we attempt to get the hell out of here." Xander said, "Now hurry up, it won't be long before Tywin realizes that none of his men in the area are reporting in."

They had made it out. After Elia had gotten dressed and Rhaenys had been hidden away Xander and the advanced team he had brought with him had successfully gotten what members of the Royal family were left in King's Landing out of the city safely. There had been a few close calls and more than a few Lannister soldiers had died in the process, but Elia and Rhaenys were now on one of the unmarked vessels his special forces had specifically built for their own sole use. These particular ships were built for two things, speed and the ability to blend in with nearly any other vessels around them.

Due to inter-changeable colored panels on the exposed hull of the vessel, above the water, and the quickly swappable 'name planks' at the stern these few ships could become almost indiscernible to the untrained eye in a manner of minutes. Hell, given enough time even the number of masts could be altered. Mix all this with a specialized keel for the sake of speed and Xander could honestly say that his ships were truly one of a kind. To be fair, stability could be a bit of an issue at times, but nothing was perfect and they hadn't capsized yet, so he'd counted that as a win. Xander'd had a small number of them commissioned in Dorne's walled port capital of Sunspear when he began needing more incognito and dedicated transport due to the number of fully trained troops under him beginning to truly grow. Yes, he'd had to pretty much build the shipyard that had been used from scratch, but a good word put in from Elia, along with a more than sizeable amount of gold from the Targaryens via Rhaella, had streamlined the whole process.

Put all of this together and no one had batted an eye at the random skiff that had slipped in at the back end of the invading fleet, as it had been flying the colors of the invaders and all of its crew were dressed accordingly. Granted, actually getting the materials and expertise needed for these vessels to Dorne where he knew they could be built with at least a small amount of secrecy and been a total pain in the ass, but as of that moment Xander could honestly say it had been worth it. Elia and Rhaenys were currently resting in a cabin that had been prepared for them below decks and Xander now found himself standing near the bow overlooking the swiftly moving ocean. The specially trained crew was as quiet as they could be, the hulls panels had been shifted to a matted black, the lamps were doused, and all possible reflective surfaces were covered. Combine this with the fact that there was very little moon in the sky and it would have taken a truly exceptional pair of eyes to spot them.

And as Xander silently stood there listening to the passing water with the smells of sea salt, wood, and tar in his nose he began to think back on the last three years and what they had meant to him.

He'd had no intention of coming to Westeros, it hadn't really been his choice. He had died. He had made a stupid mistake because he'd been too busy feeling sorry for himself to pay attention to his surroundings, and in his late teens he had died. He didn't even clearly remember how it had happened, one moment he'd been walking along while thinking about something Spike had said then there had been a blinding pain on the back of his head and the next thing he knew he was waking up buck ass naked in mid-air. And despite everything he wished were true, no matter how much he'd hope his new situation wasn't real, he recognized that his life had ended as far as his old world was concerned. With this rather brutal realization it, thankfully, hadn't taken too long for him to come to grips with his new circumstances.

From there he had forced himself to be useful to those who had found him. And after witnessing just what kind of world he was now in, he began the process of bringing everything he could remember about his previous possessions to the front of his mind instead of trying to repress them all the time. Now, normally he would have tried to play it all off and act like the old Xander from his world, but he knew that if he didn't at least attempt to adjust himself in some way he would die. And this time it would most likely be quite permanent. He would not be getting a third chance. So had he willed himself to change where he had to, using the leftover memories of soldier, the scraps of instinct from the hyena, and everything he had ever learned in his world and trying to meld it all with what he learned of this new world. And all the while actively trying to hold on to as much of his former self, his previous ways of looking at things, as he could. And eventually he was able to find a mostly happy medium… Which often resulted in him being nowhere near as respectful to those around him as he probably should have been. Never the less, Alexander had been born, and Xander, at least in the eyes of those who did not know him, took a back seat in everyday life. He still came out to play often enough to be annoying to some, but some days that was small comfort.

Meh, it had been worth it! As it was he doubted he would have made much of an impression on Rhaegar and his family without at least some of the old him shining through. And it was thanks to this that he had been able to push as hard as he did when it came to some of the ideas he put forward. All the advancements that he was responsible for he had been able to see all the way through because he hadn't completely taken up the standard view point that was held by what seemed to be most of Westeros. A mentality of either disregarding apathy or overwhelming greed. Yes, he knew that there were just as many decent to good people in and around the Seven Kingdoms, but sometimes he found it hard to see them because of all the corruption they stood around.

Never the less, he preferred to stay as hopeful as his brand of realism would allow. But hopeful did not mean naïve. So over the last couple of years he had taken measures to keep himself and those he had come to care for safe. Especially when he was able to see what Rhaegar's stupidity would ultimately result in. The unrest the people had been feeling towards the Targaryens for who knows how many years had set the tinder, and child-like selfishness of Rhaegar and Lyanna had provided the spark. After all, Westeros certainly wasn't much into fairy tales, and the concept happily ever after was nothing if not a rare occurrence.

Now, years later, they called him the Soldier Lord. He wasn't a knight, a craftsman, or some possibly obscure type of nobility even if the word 'Lord' was in his title, but he was respected. Hell, a fair share of the time he was even feared… The closest thing he could come up with when he tried to think of a term to describe his current standing in life was an administrator or even a general. He commanded men and resources, drew up battle plans, and people actually came to him for advice or help in a multitude of manners. So if nothing else he could freely admit that he had certainly come up in the world.

At the end of the day though, regardless of any of the other things that he had helped bring into this world from his old one, the one thing he was valued for the most were the people he trained. Most of the kingdoms of Westeros, sadly, were very 'might makes right' kinds of places, and with his way of doing things, along with the support of the Targaryens, he had changed the rules. Already, barely three years since his arrival, most lords were trying to either imitate him in one form or another or cursing his existence. While he couldn't field nearly as many men as even the weakest of the high lords, his troops far outstripped theirs in quality. That and he used advanced tactics and any needed espionage to help compensate for the fact that there were only about 5000 of his of actual fielded soldiers the world over. This or course did not include those surviving originals and the advanced teams that were trained right after them. Now if only he could've found something else to call his advanced teams other than 'Special Forces'.

While the term was rather ambiguous, the meaning he still associated with it conjured up images of what it was to be some of the best his former world had to offer. This ideal was not the same as what he had achieved while in this new world. While the end result of having more of the enemy's people die then his own had been reached, much of the technical knowledge and application that he could have brought to the table via what memories were left over from that fateful Halloween was useless, if only because there was no practical way of bring them about with how underdeveloped Westeros was by comparison to his place of origin.

Over time he had begun to focus not just on his elite troops, but also upon a more general infantry. The difference between the infantry he helped create and those of others was, again, a difference in quality. The training, while not as long or intense as it was for his special forces, was still far more rigorous than any other regime in the Seven Kingdoms. Not one person under his command, at any level, was an unfortunately conscripted farmer or craftsman. No, every single person he fielded was a trained and tested soldier that knew exactly what they were doing and knew that they could depend on the people by their side. That was why he had been dubbed the Soldier Lord, because now a days he only really dealt in soldiers, and his soldiers were truly the best that could be found.

But this wasn't all he wanted to be known for. No, more than anything he wanted to help create, not destroy. Hence why he tried to found schools where he could, why he enforced both legal and moral behaviours amongst those under him, and tried to keep as much farmland as he could safe from the overflows of war so that those not involved wouldn't starve. Sometimes though, it didn't seem like enough. However, for the moment he had to bring his mind back to the present, he had to focus on saving two of the few people he could actually call friends. This current crisis he found himself in didn't mean that he would stop trying though.

And it was with these thoughts running through his head Xander made himself close his eyes and just let himself go for a few seconds. He took a deep calming breath that he felt flowing into his lungs, and from there into his veins to help wash away some of the stress. It wouldn't do for him to allow the strain of his life to get to him over much. This was his world now and he would do nothing but try to make it better.

Dawn had come swiftly and as the sun rose the thin removable panels attached to the visible sections of hull of the ship they were on were removed by its crew to show the standard finished, but unpainted, wood beneath. Elia had woken to the sound of waves before dawn and had been on the deck while wrapped in the cloak and wearing the boots her friend had provided for her the night before so she got to watch the rather fascinating process of panel removal. They could apparently be slid in and out of place with what looked like oddly shaped elongated hooks with flat tips by three to five men either leaning over the railing or attached to rope ladders down the side. The panels themselves, to her eye, seemed to be constructed out of a sort of extra thin metal frame covered in not as thin, colored, and cleverly segmented wood panes. Ingenious, but they looked beyond fragile; absolutely no good for armor. Apparently her thoughts had decided to play along her face for all to see because the next things she knew she was almost jumping out of her skin as a voice spoke up behind her.

"This ship isn't meant for combat," Spinning around quickly Elia was brought out of her thoughts only to look upon Xander's tiredly smiling visage, he probably hadn't slept all night, "If we were to try and go head to head with an actual frigate we'd most likely be beyond screwed."

Smiling a little at how her friend was almost joking about such a serious matter she couldn't help but snap back a bit playfully with,

"Then what is it meant for?"

"Why, getting your ass out of that shit pit of a city in one piece of course." Now Xander's words would have offended almost anyone else of noble birth, but not her. She had always been one to value a real conversation filled with wit (crude or not), personality, and honesty over the excessively frill-filled talk that usually surrounded the King's court. Granted, Xander, or Alexander to those not within his confidences, was usually markedly more polite, but with her they both made an exception. Princess or no, Elia found the somewhat goofy and more than a little blunt personality that he hid while in public to be refreshing, and Xander found that he rather enjoyed being able to let his guard down around her.

He had tried to do so with Rhaegar, but after a time had given up such efforts. Her former husband just was not the kind of person Xander could truly relax around. Yes, Xander would heckle the prince whenever he got the chance, but such attempts had only really been made in order to get Rhaegar to concede on a point or idea, not for fun like with Elia. He, of course, could do so with Rhaella to a degree, but his relationship was different with her then it was with Elia. His affection for the two women differing because they themselves were two different people. Thoughts of her good mother brought up a feeling of trepidation, just what had happened to her and young Viserys.

"Xander," Elia murmured; her previous levity forgotten under her new found worry, "What of Rhaella? I know that they were sent to Dragonstone just over a month ago, but surely Robert Baratheon will not stop with only taking the Iron Throne." She was more than mildly surprised when Xander only gave her an understanding look and a small smile before saying,

"Now that is a surprise." With that Xander headed below decks to where she assumed he planned to get some rest. Wait a minute, she hadn't thought to ask where they were going… Yes, she had a pretty good idea and all, but it would have been nice to have some confirmation!

AN: So how was it? Should I continue? If so please let me know! Also, do any of you have any thoughts or suggestions? Again, if so please be so kind and leave a review or message. Until next time, and wishing you only the best, Relim.