The Brightest Sun

Chapter 57

Elia is 40. Harry is 37. Viserys is 20. Teddy is 19. Rhaenys is almost 17. Aegon is 15. Daenerys is 12. Maia is almost 5 and Lewyn is 2 months.

By the time Aegon would be considered old enough to rule on his own for Westerosi terms, he'll be 17 instead of the 16 he's supposed to be.

Any plans for a feast to welcome their guests were put on pause at Lord Velaryon's grim insistence.

Elia had not seen Monford in well over a decade, but the younger man had held the same loyalty to the Targaryens as his ancestors before him. That his joy at seeing the possibility of the dragons restored to the throne was tempered left her uneasy.

Monford's words sent the room into an uproar, questions flying at him as the council demanded answers. It was only the loud bang and press of magic that silenced them, eyes darting to a decidedly unimpressed Harry.

"If you're quite done, perhaps we can discuss what is to be done," Harry drawled.

"There's a war coming to this island and we're unprepared for it," Jon Connington hissed.

"Panicking over it is not like to help much," Harry retorted dryly, "but by all means, go right ahead. It's not as if we weren't planning to go to war anytime soon."

She could see the man biting his tongue, well aware that he was outnumbered and outclassed, and Elia idly wondered if Harry would put him out of his misery before or after the battles were won.

"How did you come by this information?" Elia asked.

"All lords have someone installed at court, Your Grace," he reminded her, as if Elia had forgotten the dance of the nobility at King's Landing. "My man has made mention of Bloodstone becoming the topic of conversation for some time now; all Seven Kingdoms are aware of another claimant to be King of the Stepstones."

"King?" Harry said slowly.

"No other title is claimed in conjunction with these islands," Monford told him, an almost amused smile on his face.

"Why now?" Lord Tarly cut in, eyes dark and assessing and drawing the room's attention away from the suddenly stiff Harry.

"Because Dorne has gathered," Ser Richard said quietly, blue-grey eyes trailing to her.

"Is your king so fearful?" Oberyn asked, a mocking smile on his face.

Elia sent a sharp glance at her brother, seeing the stiff expression on Richard Lonmouth's face.

"The last time Dorne gathered, Prince Oberyn, the Stormlands bled for years," Richard countered. "A new war will see them suffer for Robert's anger."

"Yet you're here helping them bleed," Jon retorted. His blue eyes were focused on Ser Richard, a dark look in them.

He sees traitors everywhere, she knew.

"Aye. I've no love for the Lannisters, or what Robert has become under them. I've sworn my sword to House Targaryen."

"How many men can we expect?" Elia asked, cutting off the two men before they could start boasting of their loyalties.

"Thousands," Monford answered, a dark twist to his lips. "The North has begun to send more men to Moat Cailin in anticipation of their king's needs. Or to protect the Riverlands when word of dragons reaches the loyalists."

"Is Lord Hoster still facing troublesome bannermen?" Elia asked curiously. She knew enough of him to know the man would not stand for such and expected his daughters' marriages to have helped in that regard.

"The Riverlands remains the staging ground for many wars, Your Grace," Monford told her. "The Wars of the Marches did not leave it untouched, nor have the many differing bandits. All they need is hope before they rise in rebellion."