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Rhaella Targaryen, Close to the Wall – the North.

"That would be the complete report on the economic activities ordered by King Aemon in Mole Town," the Lycant said politely, handing Rhaella the parchment in question.

The Queen nodded gently, taking the piece of parchment with elegance.

"Any other important news?" the former Queen asked distractedly, leaning against the balcony of the massive, imposing tower the Lycants and Veela had erected in the village. The structure was square and tiered, remarkably sturdy and imposing. From this height, Rhaella could observe how things had begun to change under Aemon's orders.

The Lycants organized the locals with discipline, but also respect and patience, dividing the men between construction, agriculture, and livestock farming, much to Rhaella's surprise.

Some men were busy raising an outer wall, while others prepared the land outside the village for planting potatoes, radishes, and cabbages.

Meanwhile, most of the women remained near the Tower, half of them cooking to feed the hungry workers, while the others fashioned robes and warm garments from Aemon's enchanted furs and fabrics.

And most importantly, the banners of House Targaryen hung from the gray walls of the imposing structure. The crimson three-headed dragon was flying over Westeros once again, she thought with relief and pride.

Yes, it was a remote village in the north of the continent, insignificant on the vast canvas of the coming war, and yet Rhaella couldn't help smiling. It was a first great step toward the restoration of the House of the Dragon.

Soon, not only would Mole Town proudly display the Dragon's banners, but every castle along the Wall would do so as well. Then would come Dragonstone, and finally…

King's Landing itself.

"The wizards and witches of the Coalition have begun arriving. Lord Black, Lord Potter, and Lady Romanov are finishing preparations in the city. Apparently, the three families will invest a considerable amount of gold in the Gift. King Aemon plans to transform the entire region into a commercial hub, although I don't know the details," the imposing warrior said, making Rhaella smile gently and nod with her characteristic elegance.

"Thank you, Ser. You may withdraw," the former Queen said, silently watching as the enormous, powerful man nodded once before leaving the central office of Mole Town's Tower.

Once alone, Rhaella sighed to herself, worried about the situation in which both she and her family found themselves.

Aemon was…far too Stark for her liking.

Her beloved grandson was perfect for the Throne. He viewed the seat of his ancestors not as a right, but as the greatest of responsibilities. He possessed strong economic and military connections that granted him considerable political influence, and he had a brilliant mind for logistics and economics, as could be seen in his actions in Winterfell and Mole Town.

Not to mention his powerful magic and the Dragons under his command.

And although it was true that Aemon had been preparing for war and had always displayed the Targaryen banner with pride, it was more than evident that the Stark influence also weighed heavily within her grandson.

The renovation of Winterfell, the economic revitalization of Stark lands, and the enormous investments made by his allies had caused the House of the Lords of the North to experience a simply meteoric rise.

In Rhaella's humble opinion, he was giving far too much to the Starks. And although Rhaella would never dare challenge Aemon's authority after the incident, that didn't mean she wasn't concerned.

Even this small village, Mole Town, had been fortified and received considerable assistance from her grandson's men under the orders of the White Dragon, as Aemon was called. The place had become a seat worthy of a Lesser Lord, and it had taken her grandson only a couple of weeks to accomplish it.

The people practically kissed the ground and danced whenever her grandson's name was mentioned. The place was prospering, and it was only a matter of time before more and more nearby commoners began flocking there in search of better opportunities.

However, that could wait, Rhaella thought as she watched a caravan of three carriages, the most luxurious and exotic the former Queen had ever seen, enter the town through its southern gates, evidently attracting the attention of all its inhabitants.

They were of different colors, although black, white, and gray predominated across all three. The first displayed an emerald lion roaring upon a black field of lilies, the symbol of House Potter, Aemon's closest and most powerful ally.

One whom Rhaella had to unite with her family at any cost, the former Queen thought, shuddering as she remembered the training sessions between Aemon and Lord Harry, how reality itself was nothing more than a plaything before the whims of those powerful wizards.

The second banner was just as important as the first: a trio of silver ravens flying in circles upon a black field, the emblem of the Blacks, the other family extremely close to her grandson.

And one that presented an opportunity, Rhaella thought, watching with interest as Lord Sirius Black emerged from the carriage. Tall, handsome, and powerful, his face was relaxed as he burst into laughter at some remark made by little Lady Clarissa, who climbed down from the carriage accompanied by the trio of enormous wolves that always followed her, before running toward the Tower.

And finally, the Romanov. In Aemon's words, they were the most recent family to join his Coalition. They possessed vast wealth, a respectable lineage, and apparently a direct connection to the Starks, although, much to Rhaella's relief, they seemed closer to Aemon and Harry than to the Starks of Winterfell.

Leading the Romanov was Lady Natalia, who apparently had an obvious interest in Lord Harry, considering the closeness between them, something that made Rhaella frown slightly.

She truly didn't want to think about the headache it would be to make the nobles of Westeros accept the drastic changes coming to the Continent. But Aemon had been firm, and in her grandson's own words, Westeros had been stagnant for long enough.

Rhaella inhaled deeply. It was time to receive the guests, after all, so with determination, she stepped away from the balcony and began walking toward the chambers her beloved daughter had claimed as her own during their stay in Mole Town.

Rhaella walked through the simple but comfortable corridors of the Tower, her footsteps echoing in the peaceful silence, finding comfort in the dragon banners hanging from the vaulted ceilings of the passageways, until the former Queen reached the most spacious room in the Tower. There were no guards in sight, nor were they truly necessary considering the magical defenses surrounding the place.

So Rhaella simply entered the room with a gentle smile, pleased by what she saw.

Her beloved Daenerys, sweet and innocent Daenerys, was seated at her dressing table while her two ladies-in-waiting, a pair of young Veela whom Aemon had assigned to his young aunt, gently brushed her beautiful, long hair. Her beloved daughter was already dressed in a beautiful red gown, perfectly adapted to the cold climate of the region.

"And what happened next?" her young daughter asked softly, her eyes wide with excitement as she awaited the two young Veela's answer.

"Oh, it was extremely amusing, Princess. Young Harry was thrown into the fountain near the Palace of Topaz Island by one of the city's Abraxans. Naturally, the young Black maiden didn't wait even a second before making fun of the young, soaking-wet Lord Potter," the young Veela said with an amused giggle, which quickly spread to her daughter.

Rhaella watched the scene with misty eyes, feeling an enormous weight lift from her shoulders as she observed her beloved daughter being treated as what she truly was, a Princess of the Blood.

Daenerys seemed to glow beneath the attention of the two Veela, who took incredible pleasure in dressing and pampering the young Princess, who simply enjoyed being attended to.

However, Rhaella raised an eyebrow when she overheard a particular whisper.

"Oh, Lord Potter will be enchanted by you, Princess. A light touch upon his shoulder and a gentle whisper, and you'll have the Emerald Lion exactly where you want him," the young woman said before releasing a conspiratorial giggle at her daughter's determined but embarrassed expression.

"I believe that's quite enough," Rhaella said with amusement in her voice, making the three young blondes look at her in surprise.

"Muna!" Daenerys exclaimed with a smile, her cheeks flushed, while the two Veela merely looked at her without remorse. Rhaella had no doubt that both had known perfectly well that she was listening to their conversation.

"Come, my daughter. Lord Potter, Lord Black, and Lady Romanov have arrived," Rhaella said, making her daughter's eyes shine at the mention of the Potter name, before she nodded quickly and made her final adjustments.

Daenerys said goodbye to the two young Veela as the two Targaryen women began making their way toward the Tower's entrance hall, where the new arrivals were surely waiting.

"You look radiant, my love," Rhaella said with pride and happiness, making young Daenerys blush and smile radiantly.

"Thank you, Muna. I wanted to look radiant for Harry," she said with determination, her amethyst eyes shining with that possessive edge that filled Rhaella with both pride and concern.

Daenerys was determined to make young Potter hers, and although Rhaella more than approved of that union, she had a responsibility to warn her daughter.

"Lord Potter is one of Aemon's closest allies. They're practically brothers, and it's more than evident that the Potters and the Blacks will hold places of honor in your nephew's court. I've been informed that the young Stark, Sansa, is more than interested in him. Besides, you're already aware of how magical clans function. Are you certain you'll be able to share your man with other women, my daughter?" Rhaella asked sincerely, making Daenerys frown, lost in thought.

At least until a familiar male voice rang out.

"Dany!"

The moment those words were heard, her daughter's face lit up, and Rhaella could only sigh before shaking her head and smiling as young Clarissa and Lord Potter walked toward them, closely followed by the imposing figure of Lord Black, as handsome and masculine as she remembered.

Gods, control yourself, Rhaella, she thought, feeling a shiver when she sensed the powerful man's gaze upon her.

Within seconds, the young Black reached them, completely ignoring Rhaella, much to the former Queen's disbelief and amusement, before beginning to speak to Daenerys at tremendous speed.

"Harry and I bought you a present! Give it to her, Harry, give it to her!" the young Black said rapidly, bouncing impatiently in place as she watched Lord Potter simply roll his eyes with a charming smile on his face.

Rhaella suppressed a sigh as she watched her beloved daughter lose herself in the young Lion's charms, looking expectantly toward the much-mentioned gift.

Harry, for his part, simply rolled his eyes, his face assuming an expression of feigned innocence.

"We haven't even finished greeting everyone, unloading the goods, the packages, and…AHHHHG!" Harry exclaimed in pain, and Rhaella couldn't help laughing softly when she saw that the young Black had drawn her wand and, with enviable speed, unleashed a torrent of magical sparks at the young Lord Potter.

They didn't appear particularly lethal, but they certainly looked rather uncomfortable and painful.

"Give Dany her present, Potter!" the young woman demanded impetuously, under Lord Sirius's proud and amused gaze.

Harry looked at Clarisa with a frown before slipping his hand into his pocket, where, much to Rhaella's disbelief, his arm disappeared up to the elbow, as though the pocket of his elegant robe were deeper than it appeared.

Magic, undoubtedly, the former Queen thought, still incredulous at the magnificent and terrifying things these people took for granted.

Clarissa bounced with excitement, watching eagerly as Lord Potter pulled from his robe a…

"A broom?" Rhaella said in surprise, at least until Harry released it in front of him, and the object simply remained levitating a short distance above the ground.

A magical broom, Rhaella thought with disbelief and resignation, seeing the wonder on Daenerys's face.

"It's a Silver Arrow, a broom for beginners, perfect for learning the basic techniques. Since you still can't fly Rhaegal freely, I thought this would allow you to explore the skies," young Potter said, while her daughter gently and hesitantly took the broom with trembling hands.

Something that, apparently, Lady Clarissa wasn't going to allow.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, come on! Let's go try it!" she said impatiently, grabbing Daenerys's hand and dragging her toward the interior of the Tower, while Lord Potter sighed and wearily rubbed his face before looking toward Rhaella with some embarrassment.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I…I will make sure they're both all right," Harry said with a sigh, making Rhaella nod gently as she watched Harry run after the giggling Ladies, leaving Rhaella alone with Sirius.

"I'm still having difficulty adapting to the rather lax rules of etiquette you follow, my Lord," Rhaella said softly, focusing her gaze on the attractive figure of Lord Black, making the man chuckle gently, a deep, masculine sound that sent tingles directly to Rhaella's womanhood.

"It's simply the nature of power. Magical families with less influence and magical strength place importance on things as insignificant as protocols and etiquette. However, Aemon and Harry are talented and powerful wizards, and they both despise formalities," he said softly, while they watched in comfortable silence as the Lycants unloaded everything they had brought for the village.

It was…far more than she had imagined.

"That's an enormous amount of supplies," she said curiously, making Lord Sirius nod and reply.

"Aye. Aemon informed Harry that the Wall now belongs to House Targaryen, along with the entire Gift. Some fellow named Mormont was appointed commander of the newly formed Black Legion. Half the members of the Watch attempted to rebel and warn Robert Baratheon about a Targaryen at the Wall. They were all executed, of course," Lord Sirius said naturally, much to Rhaella's satisfaction.

"Good. There's no room for traitors," she said softly and with pleasure, although somewhat annoyed that Aemon hadn't told her anything about it, or, failing that, her own son Viserys.

"The plans for Mole Town involve a complete expansion. Aemon has ordered that the village be transformed into a proper city," Lord Sirius said, offering Rhaella his arm, a gesture the former Queen gladly accepted before they both left the atrium and entered the Tower's courtyard.

The region's cold struck the Queen's face, although, thanks to the enchantments now surrounding Mole Town, it felt like a pleasant, cool breeze.

Rhaella watched with a frown as the caravan continued unloading more and more supplies. And although she had nothing against developing the North, Rhaella would truly have preferred that Aemon's allies not spend their resources in this desolate wasteland when they could invest them in the Crownlands, in the territories near her grandson's Court.

"Doesn't such a considerable investment represent a significant financial burden for the families of the Coalition, my Lord?" Rhaella asked gently and with as much tact as possible, genuinely curious about the extent of Aemon's allies' economic power.

She had tried to discover more about it in the past, almost always receiving evasive answers from her grandson's vassals and allies.

Lord Sirius shrugged and replied.

"We have enough. Westeros represents tremendous opportunities. Aemon is aware that after the war, many Noble Houses will cease to exist, which means we'll have plenty of opportunities to establish ourselves. Investing in Westeros is the logical choice. To be honest with you, Your Grace, we have more gold than we could possibly spend, and long-term investments are always welcome," the Lord said, making Rhaella nod gently before replying.

"I understand, my Lord, but Westeros isn't limited to the North. There are tremendous investment opportunities south of the Neck. Dragonstone and the Crownlands, for example, near where Aemon's Court will be established," the Queen said delicately, gently caressing Lord Sirius's arm and marveling at its firmness.

Did all wizards and witches possess such enviable physiques? Rhaella wondered distractedly, returning to reality when she heard Lord Sirius chuckle softly.

"Perhaps. We'll see what can be done with these…Crownlands in due time. If what concerns you is that the Coalition might spend all its resources in the North, don't worry, Your Grace. Our treasuries are vast, and our members numerous, I assure you," he said with some amusement, while with his other hand he gently caressed Rhaella's hand.

At the same time, an enormously pleasurable and exciting sensation swept through the former Queen, who couldn't help releasing a small gasp at the mischievous tingling that had appeared in her womanhood at Lord Black's touch.

"Although, if what you desire is to begin designing some preliminary arrangements, I'm certain we could reach some kind of agreement, Your Grace. What do you think?" Lord Black asked, leaning a little closer to Rhaella's ear and whispering into the former Queen's ear, who had to make a titanic effort to avoid shuddering at his masculine, dominant presence.

"Perhaps," the former Queen said, swallowing nervously. However, before they could continue their conversation, the Tower's bells began ringing as the watchman started shouting.

"Riders approaching from the North! Riders from the North! The King has returned!"

At those words, all the inhabitants of the small village looked at one another with surprise and hope before hurrying toward the gates of the newly constructed walls.

"It seems the young Dragon has returned. I suppose the matters concerning the Wall have been concluded," Lord Sirius said softly, escorting Rhaella toward the Tower's entrance, both more than willing to wait for her grandson.

Several minutes later, Mole Town's gates opened gently as the caravan of riders crossed the threshold, where, to Rhaella's immense joy, the Targaryen banners stood proud and gallant.

The Lycants accompanying Aemon had exchanged their white cloaks for blood-red ones. The two riders leading the procession carried the Targaryen dragon, waving proudly in the wind.

And most incredible of all to Rhaella…the people cheered. There were shouts and applause, pointing fingers, children dancing as they looked toward her family's emblem, not with the hatred or fear Rhaella had grown accustomed to during her brother's reign.

But with excitement and hope.

It was a simply cathartic sensation. A warm feeling blossomed in her chest, transforming into pride when she saw that, at the center of the procession, was Aemon, her grandson, not dressed in Stark clothing, but wearing a custom-fitted leather tunic, with a blood-red cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened by an elegant Targaryen brooch upon one of them.

He wore no crown, and frankly, he didn't need one. At that moment, Aemon looked more like a King than any other Monarch Rhaella had ever seen.

And apparently, the rest of the people knew it as well, because before Rhaella's incredulous and emotional gaze, one by one, the commoners didn't hesitate to bend the knee, kneeling in submission before the young Dragon.

"The brat really knows how to make a proper entrance, haha," Lord Sirius said with amusement, and although part of Rhaella disagreed with the way he referred to Aemon, she said nothing, enjoying and savoring the moment.

The rise of a new Targaryen King, she thought excitedly.

Seconds later, Aemon reached the Tower's entrance, dismounting from his stallion in a single leap as his Lycants began dispersing throughout the area. Behind her grandson, the young redhead dismounted, sticking close to Aemon like a shadow. Time had been kind to Ygritte. Her slender body had filled out in all the right places, giving her more than respectable breasts and broad hips. And judging by the obvious familiarity between them, Aemon still lost himself between the redhead's thighs.

"Your Grace, welcome," Rhaella said with a smile, attempting to bow before her grandson, only to be stopped immediately.

"That's not necessary, Grandmother. We're family," he said gently before giving her a warm embrace, a gesture Rhaella immediately returned.

"Where is Viserys, Aemon?" she asked curiously, looking around for her son.

Aemon finished giving a couple of orders to some nearby Lycants before focusing once again on Rhaella and replying.

"My uncle has remained behind to oversee the castles along the Wall. They'll make sure the transition goes smoothly. He'll meet us in Eastwatch with Uncle Aemon for our journey to King's Landing," he said gently, making Rhaella nod and open her mouth to continue the conversation.

Only to be interrupted by a female Lycant, who approached them both with great respect, bowing her head.

"My Alpha, a couple of travelers are requesting an audience. They say it's important, and they also claim to know your grandmother," the fierce but submissive woman said, making Aemon look at her curiously, a gesture Rhaella answered with a shrug.

"Let them in, Dana," her grandson ordered softly, making the young woman bow her head and turn around, leaving the trio alone.

"Do you know what this is about?" Lord Sirius asked, making Rhaella shake her head.

"I'm afraid not. I'm not expecting anyone that I can recall," the Queen confessed, watching with some caution as three robed men entered the Tower's courtyard.

Aemon stepped protectively in front of her, while the Lycants remained on high alert upon noticing their Alpha's actions.

And then, the men spoke.

"Your Grace," the two men said simultaneously as their hoods slowly fell back. Their faces were old, both familiar to the Queen, so much so that a smile illuminated the former Queen's face.

"By the Gods," she whispered, emotion filling her voice as she unconsciously leaned toward Lord Sirius.

She couldn't contain her excitement. Standing before her were none other than two of her former husband's old Kingsguard.

Ser Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent.

And although the white armor and cloaks of days long past were gone, and their heads were grayer than Rhaella remembered, both men knelt at Aemon's feet, placing the blades of their swords upon the castle's cobblestone ground as they proclaimed.

"We reaffirm our loyalty to the one true King of Westeros, Aemon I of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Aemon didn't respond immediately. His back was straight and his gaze impassive, worrying Rhaella for an instant, at least until he calmly ordered.

"Rise, Sers."

At the King's direct command, both knights stood, clearly with greater difficulty than Rhaella remembered, but both were prepared and ready for whatever Aemon might command.

"Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell, I'm glad to see you again," Rhaella said softly, mixed emotions upon her face, making both men look at her with gratitude and affection in their eyes.

"Your words are kind, my Queen," they said softly, until Ser Gerold pulled a letter from his traveling bag, bowing before Aemon to hand it to him.

"Westeros remembers who its rightful King is, Your Grace. Throughout the Crownlands, the Targaryen name is still whispered with longing and hope. Lord Monford Velaryon has sent…" Ser Gerold said in a rough, deep voice.

Aemon took the envelope gently and with curiosity before slipping it into his tunic and speaking once again.

"The hospitality of Mole Town is yours, Sers. Rest and recover from your journey. Tonight, we'll have a…long, very long conversation," Aemon said, offering bread and salt to the two Knights, who immediately accepted the gesture.

Although their faces betrayed that there was much more to be said, and Rhaella didn't fail to notice the way both men looked toward Aemon's shadow, Lady Chiara.

"Why do I have the feeling that this meeting won't go the way those men expect?" Lord Sirius asked softly, making Rhaella shiver slightly at the pleasurable gesture.

"Because you have very good intuition, my Lord," Rhaella said softly, watching as both knights nodded gently and entered the Tower.

"I'll make sure Mole Town is fortified and prepared for winter. We depart for Eastwatch in one week. Have the troops prepare," Aemon ordered the nearby Lycant captain before finally entering the Tower, with Ygritte and Chiara following behind him like two faithful shadows.

Rhaella watched them with some concern, at least until Lord Sirius's breath against her neck made her shudder.

"I believe we had an unfinished conversation, my Lady," the man purred, and Rhaella could only nod while biting her lip.

This would undoubtedly be a most interesting week.