[(The Eyrie's Courtyard - Morning. The crisp mountain air carries the scent of pine as Prince Daeron secures Drogon's saddle while Elia's attendants load her ship below. The Arryn family stands in uneasy formation - Ronnel wringing his hands, Elbert standing stiffly beside him, Jon glowering from the sidelines with Lysa clutching a sniffling Robert.)
Ronnel: (nervously) Safe travels, Your Graces! Do give our regards to Princess Alyssa!
Elbert: (formal) The Knights of the Vale stand ready should Storm's End require assistance.
Jon: (muttering) As if Stannis Baratheon would ever ask for help.
Daeron: (ignoring Jon) Remember our agreement, Lord Ronnel. Elbert's Kingsguard escort arrives within the fortnight.
Lysa: (shrill) And my sweet Robert stays until he's six!
Elia: (diplomatic) Four years will pass quickly, my lady.
Robert: (wailing) I don't wanna go!
Jon: (grabbing his son's shoulder) Enough.
[(The sudden movement makes Robert wail louder. Somewhere above, a falcon screeches in sympathy.)
Daeron: (mounting Drogon) Oh, and Jon?
Jon: (glaring) What now?
Daeron: (smirking) Try not to start another rebellion before we visit again.
Elbert: (choking back laughter)
Ronnel: (horrified) Oh dear!
[(With a mighty leap, Drogon takes flight as Elia's ship pulls away from the Bloody Gate. Below, Jon storms off while Lysa's sobs echo off the mountain walls. Elbert watches the dragon shrink into the distance, already calculating how to rule a Vale where his uncle's shadow looms as large as the Giant's Lance.)]
Ronnel: (weakly) Well! That went...
Elbert: (dryly) Exactly as badly as expected.
[(The wind howls through the courtyard - the only response either man needs.)]
[(Storm's End Courtyard - Afternoon. The salty sea wind whips through the courtyard as Drogon lands with a thunderous thud. Prince Daeron dismounts just as Elia's carriage rolls through the gates. The Baratheon-Targaryen household stands ready - Princess Alyssa grinning with a babe on her hip, Stannis standing stiffly beside his father Steffon, while young Renly bounces on his heels.)
Alyssa: (grinning) Little brother! Finally decided to visit your favorite sister?
Daeron: (dusting off his gloves) Only sister. And only because Father insisted.
Steffon: (booming laugh) Gods, you sound just like Stannis!
Stannis: (grimacing) I do not.
Elia: (gracefully exiting her carriage) Lord Steffon. It's been too long.
Steffon: (kissing her hand) Princess! Still too good for this brood, I see.
Renly: (bounding forward) Did you really burn the Greyjoy fleet? Can I ride Drogon?
Alyssa: (swatting him) No and no.
Steffan: (tugging Daeron's cloak) Uncle! Uncle! Did you bring presents?
Shirleen: (spitting up dramatically)
Stannis: (pinching nose bridge) This is why I preferred the siege.
[(Alyssa hands the fussing newborn to a servant as Steffon claps Daeron on the back hard enough to stagger him.)
Steffon: Come! The cooks prepared enough food to survive another rebellion!
Daeron: (dry) How... optimistic.
Alyssa: (looping arms with Elia) Don't mind the men. Wait till you see the nursery I designed - three escape routes, just like Mother taught us.
Elia: (laughing) Some things never change.
[(As they move inside, Renly pelts Steffan with questions about dragonfire while Stannis mutters about "proper decorum." The crashing waves of Shipbreaker Bay provide a fitting soundtrack to the chaotic family reunion.)]
[(Storm's End Great Hall - Evening. The massive hearth crackles as the Baratheon-Targaryen household gathers around the long table laden with roasted meats and Dornish wines. Steffon carves the boar with gusto while Stannis meticulously arranges his cutlery. Renly sneaks food to the dogs under the table.)
Steffon: (raising his cup) To family! May we never try to kill each other again!
Stannis: (grimacing) Father.
Alyssa: (grinning) Oh lighten up, husband. He's not wrong.
Daeron: (dry) Technically, Robert tried to kill me.
Elia: (sipping wine) And my late husband.
[(An awkward silence falls. Steffon clears his throat loudly.)
Steffon: (pointing knife at Daeron) You know, boy, I should've tossed you off the cliffs as a babe when I had the chance.
Alyssa: (gasping) Father!
Steffon: (grinning) What? He was an ugly baby! All Targaryens are.
Elia: (choking on her wine)
Stannis: (deadpan) This is why I prefer naval reports to family dinners.
Renly: (leaning in) Did Robert really yell "TARGARYEEEEEN!" when he charged at the Ruby Ford?
Steffon: (suddenly solemn) He did. Stupid boy.
Alyssa: (rubbing her belly) At least he died doing what he loved - being dramatic.
Daeron: (raising a brow) You're taking this remarkably well.
Steffon: (slamming his cup) What's done is done! Stannis rules Storm's End now, and thank the Seven for that.
Stannis: (surprised) Father...
Steffon: (waving him off) Oh don't look so shocked. You're boring as rocks but you don't start wars over pretty northern girls.
Elia: (muttering) Some of us wish he had.
Daeron: (kicking her under the table)
Alyssa: (changing subject) Speaking of pretty things - Renly, stop feeding the dogs! They'll get fat!
Renly: (innocently) But they look sad!
[(As the servants bring in the next course, Steffon launches into a loud story about Daeron's childhood fear of crabs, much to the prince's dismay. The storm outside rages on - a fitting backdrop for the turbulent but enduring bonds of this unlikely family.)]
[(Storm's End Great Hall - The roaring fire casts flickering shadows as the second course is served. Steffon Baratheon pours more wine while Renly sneaks another sausage to the hounds under the table.)
Alyssa: (leaning forward) So. About Robert's... legacy scattered across the Stormlands.
Stannis: (grimacing) Must we?
Steffon: (chuckling) Oh come now, the boy was nothing if not... prolific.
Elia: (raising an eyebrow) And here I thought stags were supposed to be noble creatures.
Daeron: (dryly) More like alley cats, apparently.
Renly: (grinning) Gendry's the oldest, right? The blacksmith's apprentice in King's Landing?
Stannis: (pinching the bridge of his nose) Must you know all of them?
Alyssa: (sipping wine) Well, someone has to keep track. At least eight that we know of—
Steffon: (choking) Eight?!
Elia: (smirking) And that's just the ones with the trademark Baratheon black hair.
Daeron: (to Steffon) You realize this is why Lyanna Stark despised him before the rebellion? The man couldn't keep his breeches laced if his life depended on it.
Stannis: (muttering) And yet I'm the one who gets lectures about duty.
Alyssa: (patting his arm) Oh darling, you're boring, but at least you're reliably boring.
Steffon: (leaning back) To be fair, Robert did try to be discreet. Mostly.
Elia: (deadpan) Discreet as a warhammer to the face.
Renly: (perking up) Do you think any of them will want to visit Storm's End someday?
Stannis: (horrified) Absolutely not.
Alyssa: (grinning) Oh, I don't know—imagine little black-haired hellions running through the halls. Might liven the place up!
Daeron: (raising his cup) To Robert Baratheon—may his bastards never learn they're related to each other.
[(The group reluctantly clinks glasses as the storm outside rattles the shutters—a fitting metaphor for the chaos Robert left in his wake.)]
[(Storm's End Courtyard – Morning. The sea wind carries the scent of salt and rain as Prince Daeron secures Drogon's saddle. Elia's attendants load the last of her trunks onto the ship anchored below the cliffs. The Baratheon family stands in a loose semi-circle—Steffon chuckling at some private joke, Stannis stiff as always, Alyssa rocking baby Shirleen in her arms, and Renly pestering Steffan with questions about dragonfire.)
Alyssa: (grinning) So. First time meeting the in-laws, brother.
Daeron: (flat) You say that like it's a trial by combat.
Elia: (adjusting her travel cloak) Oh, it will be. Just with more passive-aggressive wine toasts.
Steffon: (laughing) Gods, I'd pay to see Doran's face when you arrive on dragonback.
Stannis: (grimacing) This is why we send ravens first.
Renly: (bouncing) Can I come? I've never seen Dorne!
Alyssa: (swatting him) You'd melt in the heat.
Steffan: (tugging Daeron's sleeve) Uncle, will you bring me back a scorpion?
Stannis: (horrified) Absolutely not.
Elia: (smirking) We'll bring two.
[(Stannis looks like he might combust. Steffon roars with laughter, clapping his son on the back hard enough to make him stumble.)
Steffon: (wiping tears) Oh, lighten up, Stannis! At least they're not bringing back another bastard—
Alyssa: (kicking him) Father.
Daeron: (mounting Drogon) Try not to burn down Storm's End while we're gone.
Alyssa: (mock-offended) I don't burn things down. I just… strategically rearrange them with fire.
Elia: (boarding her ship) Seven help Dorne.
[(With a mighty leap, Drogon takes to the skies, his wings kicking up a gust that sends Renly's cloak billowing dramatically. As the ship pulls away, Steffon yells after them:)
Steffon: If Oberyn challenges you to a duel, aim for the legs!
Stannis: (muttering) This family will be the death of me.
Alyssa: (kissing his cheek) But what a glorious death it'll be.
[(The sound of crashing waves drowns out Stannis's long-suffering sigh as the dragon and ship shrink into the distance—bound for sun, sand, and inevitable Martell dramatics.)]