Streaks Of Silver (Game of Thrones)

Chapter Thirty: The King Is Dead...

Riding out of King's Landing under armed guard, Litha would get to her ship before dusk and sail out before dark with Jaime, Tyrion, Sansa, Brienne, Bronn and Podrick...

Knowing it would never be safe for the Knight, the Squire or the Lady of Tarth in that city while Cersei raged...

And the only comfort to them would come in knowing they'd reach Dragonstone before their family...

Landing on the beach, Litha would be the first to set foot on shore. Taking in a long, deep breath as she felt the dark sand beneath her boots once again. Inhaling the sea air, the smell of the volcanic earth of the island and the chill of the autumn breeze blowing in from the north...

"It smells like home," Sansa said as she followed her older sister ashore. Litha holding her hand out to Sansa who took it before being drawn into a hug.

"We'll both see Winterfell again...we will take it back, I promise," she told Sansa who proceeded to bury her face in her sister's shoulder. Sobbing quietly as they both sank to their knees on the beach. Litha petting her hair as she struggled to maintain her own composure. Eventually letting go only when she heard her dragons cry out.

Looking up as her tears fell. Seeing her little dragons sweeping down from the gates above where Tavi waved down at them with a grin, "Sansa, come meet your nieces," she encouraged her sister to look up. The both of them rising to their feet as the little dragons, no larger than iguanas proceeded to land on their mother who ran to meet them. Clinging to and crawling up her legs, over her arms, perching on her shoulders and little Tyria would come to rest in her hands as Litha brought her up to let the hatchling nuzzle against her cheek.

"Look at how big you are! My sweet, beautiful little girls..." Litha cried, wiping her eyes while her compatriots stood a little wary. Unsure of how close to get. Noticing this, the young Queen turned to them. Whistling for her dragons to come seat themselves in the sand before her in a line.

Snapping her fingers and clicking her tongue to give orders as they rose up on to their back legs, then bowed their heads to receive the treats she offered, "Perfect memory, my darlings," she praised them, tossing a treat each before Lakro handed over a fish for them, "They're more intelligent than any hound I've ever worked with and they'll be strong flyers when they're older," she declared, looking to Tyrion then as she tossed the larger fish down.

Holding out her hand as she took a knee, Litha would usher him over, "I know how much you've wanted to meet her. Don't be afraid," she encouraged him as he straightened his tunic and tentatively approached.

Then, once at her side, he knelt in the sand next to her. Furrowing his brows in concern until he realized which one was his namesake. The smallest of the five, her golden girl, "Come, Tyria," Litha called her and the little one came crawling right up to while  her slightly larger siblings picked apart their meal.

"She's the most magnificent thing I've ever seen," Tyrion breathed as Litha picked up the hatchling. Humming a tune to her before the hatchling chirped it back at her.

"She's my finest student," Litha concurred as she held out the hatchling toward Tyrion who held out the back of his hand as he might to let a dog sniff him. The hatchling keening before crawling a bit further down her arm to press her forehead against his knuckles while she purred.

"What is that? Is it the same for cats? Does she like me...?" Tyrion panicked a bit while Litha giggled and returned to her feet.

"It means she likes you, yes," she dispelled his fear as he let go of a strained breath. The young Queen looking to Jaime who was trying his best to look excited. He really was, but his grief was still too near, "We should make way for the castle. Everyone could do with time to rest and my dragons will be having their dinner soon," she ushered then and not a person was about to protest...

***

Walking up the long, winding step path to the keep, Litha would be welcomed by her people with cheers and open arms. Approaching her throne of volcanic sheet rock, taking her place before it to make her announcement...

"King Joffrey of the House Baratheon has been assassinated!" she called out and the cheering died, "Poisoned on his wedding day, in front of a thousand guests and he now lays cold in the Sept of Baelor! A boy!" Litha elaborated, "Tonight, a wake will be held on the beach to remember a boy who in his childhood was gentle and innocent, no matter how he may have chosen to rule as a young man," she declared and took her seat on the throne.

With the weight of the world weighing heavy on her brow, Litha sighed, "Until those arrangements have been made, my friends, please...go and rest. You'll be given your own rooms and..." she wondered if Jaime wanted to be alone or not. If he needed time, or space from her, "...Lord Jaime, my love, will your things be moved to my chambers? I understand you are in mourning as your brother is. So, if you require time on your own, to process your grief, it will be given," she spoke formally in front of her court, which Jaime understood.

He knew what she meant by asking this. Her consideration for him and his heart, the way Cersei never had or was even capable of having, really, "To yours, if it pleases you, my Queen...and I would prefer not to mourn alone," he answered just as formally and she bowed her head to him shortly. Waving for servants to escort them while she remained of see to matters of the court...

Knowing full well there would be a hundred new things to catch up on...