Through the faint snowfall that had graced the day of King Robert's arrival, Rena saw bright banners of red, gold and black flying proudly against the grey sky. A queer feeling of both excitement and shyness settled over her like a cloak. Not a league away, the King of the Seven Kingdoms rode to appoint her father Hand of the King.
It was not explicitly stated in the letter that had arrived from King's Landing a moon's turn past that Lord Eddard Stark was to be Hand, but its meaning was clear enough. The king would not have made such a taxing journey if he meant otherwise. Rena suppose she ought to have been sad that Jon Arryn had died, but she hadn't known the man.
As the royal party reached the gates, most of Winterfell's household lined up to greet them. Rena's lord father stood at the head of the household, as was his place as the Lord of Winterfell, with his wife Lady Catelyn at his left hand and his heir Robb at his right. His other sons, Hoster, Brynden, Bran and Rickon, stood to the side. Like Robb, they all wore white doublets embroidered with the Stark direwolf and smart grey breeches. Though she would have liked to stand next to her half-brothers, Lady Catelyn placed her behind them, almost out of sight.
At least she was also far from Theon Greyjoy. Her father's ward was a constant throne in her side. Since she was little, he had teased and tormented her, and discouraged Robb from playing with her because "she was just a stupid girl". Now he was always staring at her, and that vexed Rena as well.
The first man through the gates rode a great black stallion, a beast that bore his great weight without strain. His massive gut with swathed in gold velvet, a black rabbitskin cloak set around his broad shoulders. A heavy black beard, wet with snow, covered his pink face. On his head rested a golden crown of antlers.
'No, this could not be King Robert Baratheon.' Rena thought. The man her father told stories of was hard and strong, who could lift a massive warhammer than weighed more than most men did. The man in front of the looked like he rarely lifted anything heavier than a wine goblet.
Behind him were men in shining armor, their cloaks as white as the freshly-fallen snow. The Kingsguard had seven members, but Rena saw only four of its knights. She knew them by name, but not by face. Another man with a dog shaped helm hiding part of a badly burned face rode with them; he must have been the Hound. Forty horses pulled a great, golden wheelhouse into the courtyard and its occupants, the royal family, exited.
Queen Cersei was the first one out, a beautiful woman with hair as bright as sunshine. Her three golden-haired children, Prince Joffrey, Princess Myrcella, and Prince Tommen followed her onto the snowy path. Rena looked again at the Kingsguard and recognized the Kingslayer, the queen's twin brother, among them. Her other brother Tyrion Lannister, a dwarf with pale blond hair over a deformed face, had made the journey as well, looking even less majestic than the king.
"Ned!" King Robert exclaimed, "So good to see that frozen face of yours."
"Winterfell is yours your Grace." Lord Eddard replied solemnly, though a thin smile was forming on his stern face.
The two men shook hands and laughed like old friends – which, in fact, they were. Jon Arryn had fostered them in the Eyrie together when they were just boys, and they'd been close ever since. They might have brothers had Robert married Eddard's sister, Aunt Lyanna, but Prince Rhaegar kidnapped her before they could be wed, and then died of a fever at the end of Robert's Rebellion. Robert had taken the throne from the Targaryens, but felt compelled to marry a Lannister woman instead of the girl he loved. That story always made Rena sad, because she would have liked to have known her aunt.
Introductions were made between their families. The Starks boys were always eager to make friends, especially Hos and Brynden, and Lady Catelyn was always a gracious hostess. The queen and crown prince regarded them politely but distantly, though the younger children seemed warm and sweet.
Rena felt awkward for a moment, wondering if her lord father would introduce her as well. She knew he loved her and was not ashamed to call her "daughter", but she was still just a bastard. Lord Eddard didn't have to, because Robert pointed her out to all those who were present.
"By the gods, is that her Ned, your bastard?"
Cringing at the vulgar way he referred to her, though she knew it to be true, Rena noticed all eyes turning to her.
But the king was not finished. "If I didn't know Lady Lyanna was dead, I'd say she was standing before us now, even more beautiful than ever."
By now, Rena had turned seashell pink from all the attention. For most of her life, she had faded into the background, but since she flowered she had been getting more long looks from men. It still required getting accustomed to. It was with a degree of timidity that she allowed herself to be introduced and thanked the king for his compliments. She felt the queen's gaze on her, and it felt cold.
Lord and Lady Stark held a feast in the king's honor later than night. Food was aplenty, for it was the height of summer, and wine flowed like red rivers from flagons to goblets. The Baratheons and Starks sat at the high table, raised upon a dias overlooking the whole hall. Knights, lords and courtiers had accompanied the king to Winterfell and it was among them Rena sat.
To her right sat a line of squires who asked her to dance all through the night, until her feet screamed and her lungs were out of air. When she sat down, she conversed with the girl to her left. Kaela Whitewater was the daughter of a wealthy merchant who controlled a guild of goldsmiths and silversmiths. Tall, brown-eyed, with wild cherry-red hair, Kaela was only two years Rena's senior and friendly, so they got along well. And unlike the squires, Kaela had no fear of Ghost.
"Where did you find her? I thought all the direwolves were dead." Kaela asked.
"There aren't any direwolves south of the Wall, at least not anymore, but my brother found her mother and brothers coming back from an execution." Rena explained as she leg Ghost a leg of chicken under the table. "The mother was dead, killed by stag, though she give him wounds that killed him in returned. My brother Hos convinced my lord father to allow to keep her pups."
Kaela petted Ghost's snow white fur. "You must have trained her well. She never barks."
"I have trained her well, but I can't take credit for her silence. She's never made a sound, not since Brynden found her; he almost stepped on her because he couldn't see her in the snow."
"Brynden in your fourth half-brother, right?"
"No, third. Bran is the fourth. And Rickon is the youngest. Robb is the heir, followed by Hoster."
"I can't imagine having so many brothers." Kaela laughed. "I have only one, and he's almost twenty years my senior. He spends all his time in his work, so I never see him or our father."
"If they're both busy with work, who are you here with?" Rena asked.
"My cousin Ava, but she's-"
A great laugh, deep and booming, from the high table rocked the hall for moment. Both girls turned to see what was so funny. It was King Robert who was making such a ruckus. A pretty young woman who was clearly deep in her cups sat in his lap - next to his wife and children - telling bawdy jokes. She looked long and slim, her hair the same cherry-red as her cousin's.
Kaela blanched with embarrassment. "I'm going to kill her. Truly, I am. Rena, if anyone finds her body, it will have been my doing."
Rena winced. "Is that your cousin Ava?"
"Unfortunately so. I told my father she wasn't responsible, but he refuses to listen. Next she'll come home with a royal bastard in her belly."
The musicians started another lively song. As couples began filling the dance floor, Rena was pulled out of her seat again, not by a squire but by a lion. Jaime Lannister all but swept her onto the floor without waiting for an answer.
"You're quite the dancer Lady Snow. My compliments to your dancing master." Jaime said with a beautiful smile. He was a comely as his sister, with hair like beaten gold and eyes like emeralds. Instead of the Kingsgaurd white armor, Ser Jaime wore the colors of his house, red and gold. It looked so fine on him.
Rena blushed brightly, having never been called Lady Snow in her life. "Thank you ser; and you as well."
She wished she looked more like a lady, but most of her wardrobe consisted of plain, dark-colored dresses. Her nicest gown, the one she currently wore, was made of velvet, but had little decoration. What made it special was that the deep purple color brought out her eyes, which were almost the same shade.
In the corner of her eyes, she could see Ava Whitewater still sitting in the king's lap drunkenly singing along to "Bessa the Barmaid". Rena felt a stab of shame not only on her new friend's behalf, but also on behalf of Queen Cersei. From her stony silence, Rena could tell she was not amused by the display, though the whole hall was laughing. To be saddled with such a husband, even if it came with a crown...
"I see Robert's found another friend." Ser Jaime noted, stretching out the word "friend" as though it were something dirty.
"Is his Grace always..." Rena wasn't sure how to finish the sentence without insulting the king, but Ser Jaime understood what she meant.
"Has been since even before he married Cersei." Ser Jaime answered. "Lord Jon, before his passing, told me of a bastard daughter he'd had in the Vale, when he was still betrothed to your aunt. No doubt your lord father knew of the girl."
This startled Rena. "But, King Robert loved his lady. He started a war to save her. He wouldn't dishonor their betrothal like that."
The way Ser Jaime looked at her made her feel like an ignorant child. "Yes. Perhaps he fell in love with her after she was gone. Who can really say? He liked the look of her, that's for certain, and you have her look; expect the eyes of course."
"They're my lady mother's eyes." Rena muttered shyly. To be honest, her lord father had never mentioned her mother, had even forbidden all talk of her in Winterfell, but everyone still knew that it was Ashara Dayne that had given birth to her, before throwing herself into the sea.
A softness came over Ser Jaime fine features. "Aye, I knew her. Not well, but I saw her often at court and Ser Arthur Dayne was always singing her praises. She was a good woman, your mother."
Rena couldn't help but smile. "Thank you for saying so ser. Do you like being in the Kingsguard?"
The question seemed to throw him off, as if no-one had ever asked him before. "Wearing a white cloak is the greatest honor a knight could ever hope for."
"Yes, but do you like it, serving the king I mean?" Rena blushed. "I'm sorry for asking such a silly question. You did just say it was an honor."
"Don't be sorry. I like being near the royal family, my sister and her children." Ser Jaime replied carefully. "I fought alongside the Sword of the Morning and the White Bull. My lord commander is Barristan the Bold. What more could a man want?"
"Thank you for your answer ser. I only ask because my brothers, Hoster and Bran, are both determined to be white-cloaks. Our father would tell us stories of great southron knights, some he knew, some he had only heard of. Robb is content to be Lord of Winterfell and Brynden wants rather be an explorer, traveling to the far reaches of the known world. Rickon, well, he's too young to know what he wants."
"And what do you want Lady Snow?"
She blushed. "When I was a little girl, I wanted to the join the Night's Watch, like my uncle Benjen. I cried for days when I learned that the Watch didn't accept women into their ranks. So now I just want a nice husband to give me lots of children."
"Right." Ser Jaime nodded. "What more could a girl want?"
The song ended shortly afterwards and the two of them parted ways politely. Rena felt a bit lightheaded as she sat down. A knight of the Kingsguard had treated her like a lady - called her a lady - even though he didn't have to. She was so happy she could burst with joy. Then she looked up at the high table to see Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn looking at her disapprovingly.
The next morning Rena wanted to sleep in a bit longer than she usually did, but her maid woke her up at the regular time so she could break her fast with her lord father and his lady wife. Bleary-eyed, Rena put on a simple black morning dress and pulled her hair back into a bun.
She knew she was in some sort of trouble from the way they had both looked at her the night before, but she couldn't guess why. Rena was the second to arrive, after her lord father. Then entered Lady Catelyn, looking as though she had just eaten something sour.
"Good morning." She said to Rena coolly. "I trust you slept well?"
"Aye, my lady. You hosted a wonderful feast last night."
Lady Catelyn sat down but did not touch her food. "Your father and I have spoken about you. It seems you've caught the eye of several people last night: the king, the crown prince, the Kingslayer-"
Rena pressed her lips together tightly, too polite to interrupt. She had only had a bit of fun, that was all.
"Catelyn please," Lord Eddard said exasperated, "You know Rena meant nothing wrong. She's just...becoming more of a woman."
"I'm aware." Catelyn replied dryly. A memory came to Rena, of her flowering a year past. Having her father's wife's explain the transition to womanhood had been uncomfortable for the both of them. "All I'm saying is that she ought be settled down quickly."
"Becoming a woman is not the same as being a woman." Lord Eddard countered. "An fourteen is too young for marriage."
"Not marriage perhaps, but a betrothal is long over due. Anyway, bastards grow faster than other children."
When her lord father did not reply, Rena dared to speak up. "Who am I to wed?"
"We've yet to reach a decision." Catelyn replied.
Rena felt a flare of angry toward her lady. Catelyn Tully had never wanted anything to do with her, was never anything close to being a mother; so by what right did she presume to have power over Rena's choice of husband? Her right as Lady of Winterfell. Rena deflated. "Who did you have in mind?" A hedge knight or blacksmith or innkeeper, most likely.
"I thought you might like to stay close to home, Rena." Father said. "One of the guardsmen perhaps? A younger son of one of my bannermen?"
"Judging from the turn events, I believe you could aim higher." Catelyn said, much to Rena's shock. "Your father is now Hand of the King and you are...very beautiful. A landed knight, even a minor lord, would be grateful for your hand. If you were to follow your lord father south, many a suitor will flock to you."
Suddenly all of Lady Catelyn's compliments sounded hollow. 'She only wants to get rid of me.' Rena fumed. 'Yet what she claims is not untrue.'
Father added, "We thought it would be best for you to decided if you wished to stay or go."
Go? The thought of leaving Winterfell had never crossed her mind. The gods fashioned her for snow and ice and cold; for racing horses across the barrows with Robb; praying in the godswood with Hos; playing pranks on the household with Brynden; yelling at Bran to come down whenever he climbed to high; singing Rickon to sleep when he had nightmares.
Rena looked at her sweet, gentle father, her only parent. She looked into Lady Catelyn's cold blue eyes, eyes that told her she was not wanted. All she had, all she was, she owed her lord father. Would she even still be welcomed in Winterfell once Lord Stark left through those gates? Especially when three of Lady Stark's sons would be leaving as well?
"I would like to attend court."
When Myrcella opened the door, her mother was arguing with her brother, Uncle Jaime.
"I don't know why you feel like this; she's just a child." Uncle Jaime said. He noticed her first and said stiffly. "Good morning my princess. Pardon me, I didn't hear you come in."
Mother looked irritated, but she brightened quickly and kissed Myrcella's cheek. "Good morning sweetling. Did you sleep well? I know you'd rather be in your own bed, but we're only here until the moon wanes again; then we shall return home."
"I am well Mother, Uncle Jaime. I wanted to ask if I could go hawking with Lady Stark and the ladies of Winterfell."
"I wasn't aware there were other ladies in Winterfell." Mother said dryly.
Myrcella explained, "Well, there's Lady Jeyne Poole, the steward's daughter, and Lady Beth Cassel is the daughter of the master-at-arms. A few ladies came with us from King's Landing."
"A steward's daughter?" Mother scoffed, "That's what passes for a lady in these parts? Well, I suppose there is little else to do here. You may go, so long as take Ser Arys with you. When we return home, I'll take you to a nice murmmer's show, alright?"
"Thank you Mother." the little princess replied. Myrcella quite liked Jeyne and Beth, who were both sweet, if somewhat silly, girls. But she knew her mother misliked being contradicted. Myrcella kissed her back and took her leave.
While walking through the corridors of the great keep, Myrcella realized that none of the corridors looked familiar. She looked around for a passing servant to help her, but saw no one. Even the largest castles had to end, she decided, making sure she did not repeat her steps would ensure she would find her way eventually.
As Myrcella wandered the halls, she heard the sound of harp. She followed it, hoping to find someone who could help her. To her luck, it was Rena Snow, Lord Stark's illegitimate daughter, playing for a tutor.
"Princess Myrcella." Rena and the tutor stopped the lesson, stood together, and curtsied.
"Good morning." Myrcella said kindly, "Winterfell is a beautiful castle, but it is unfamiliar to me, and I fear I've lost my way. Lady Snow, could you help me to Lady Stark's chambers?"
With a nodded from her tutor, Rena replied, "I would be glad to my princess."
The two girls made their way down the winding, twisting corridors of the castle.
Myrcella complimented, "I heard your playing outside. It sounded beautiful. When did you begin playing the high harp?"
"Thank you my princess. I began playing the harp when I was seven. My lord father took me to White Harbor, when he had some business with Lord Manderly. There was a singer at the Merman's Court and he showed me how to play the opening cords to "The Bear and the Maiden Fair". I enjoyed it so much, I begged Lord Stark to hire me a tutor and he did."
Rena smiled slightly, which made her look even more beautiful. Lord Stark's daughter had the same hair as him, dark and straight as a needle, and many of his features, but there was something else in her face. It only made sense that Rena Snow was so comely, for her mother had been Ashara Dayne (or so it was rumored), the great Dornish beauty. She had the Dayne eyes, dark purple, kind and knowing. If she only she dressed like a princess, she would outshine everyone at court.
"Lady Stark is taking me hawking today. Would you like to accompany us?" Myrcella asked.
"I'm honored by your invitation, but I'm afraid I cannot. I have yet to finish my lessons for the day and I must see to my direwolf, Ghost."
Myrcella remembered that the Stark boys had spoken of their wolves at the welcoming feast, but she had yet to see one. Perhaps they were all too afraid of scaring her.
"After we return, may I see your direwolf? I've heard so much about them, but no-one has shown me direwolf yet."
"Of course, princess. I'm sure Ghost will be happy to meet you. She's gentle and peaceful, so you have no need to be afraid."
"That sounds lovely, Lady Snow."
Rena grimaced a bit. "If you don't mind my asking, why does everyone call me Lady Snow? I've always just been Rena Snow."
"Why wouldn't they? Though you aren't trueborn, you're half a lady already. In fact, you're more of lady than some ladies I know."
She seemed more embarrassed that happy, but Rena thanked her for the compliment.
Soon they arrived at Lady Catelyn's door. Myrcella was warmly received, though Rena was made to leave. Myrcella did not question it because even as young as she was she understood the dishonor Lord Stark had done his wife by bringing his bastard daughter to raised alongside their sons.
Lady Catelyn offered her some warm tea to drink while they waited for the other ladies and for their equipment and horses to be readied. She was a lovely woman for her age, her blue eyes almost youthful, though her kindness and cleverness were what charmed Myrcella. Her sons, all five of them, had more of her in them their father, it seemed. They all looked Tully and had her auburn curls, though their eyes were Stark grey.
Myrcella's hawk brought nothing down, but she had a nice time all the same. Jeyne and Beth were good company, and Lady Catelyn was easier to be around that Myrcella's own mother. Her warmth almost made up for the fact that it began to snow a few short hours after they had begun, and so they were forced to turned back. Some of the southron girls complained loudly about the unnatural weather, for it was still summer. Lady Catelyn looked rather amused by this.
They reached the castle long before dark, but had missed supper. The kitchen staff was roused to prepare more food for them. The girls feasted in a duck that Beth had caught in Lady Catelyn's solar. Remembering Rena's promise to her, Myrcella excused herself early and went in search of her.
Brynden, whom she learned was called Brynden Underfoot for his habit of running all around the castle, told her his half-sister was in her bedchamber and showed her the way before running off somewhere else.
"Hello Lady Snow." Myrcella smiled. She froze when she saw the direwolf curled on the floor. It was as white as bone, with eyes the color of blood. Though it had mostly the same proportions as regular pup, it was almost the size of a full-grown hunting dog. "Hello, Ghost?"
"Good evening princess." Rena said. "How was the hawking?"
"Poor," Myrcella replied, inching closer to the beast. "Only Beth Cassel caught anything, and the snowfall forced us to return early."
"I'm sorry to here that. Would you like to pet Ghost?"
Myrcella nodded and tentatively placed her hand on the animal's muzzle. Rena moved across the room and replaced the princess's hand onto the back of Ghost's neck.
"Farlan, our kennelmaster, explained to be that hounds don't like to be touched there. He believes the same to be true of wolves." She explained. "Avoid the face and head, he says. Try the neck, back, and shoulders instead."
Myrcella obeyed and was pleased to see Ghost relax. The direwolf moved her tail back and forth and tried to lick Myrcella's hand. "I've never spent much time with dogs, though my father has a dozen that he takes hunting with him. It is true each of your half-brothers has a direwolf too?"
"Aye my princess." Rena responded. "Robb has Grey Wind, Hoster has Hero, and Brynden has Greatheart."
"Like the Kingsguard of old?"
"Exactly. Bran hasn't found a name for his wolf yet and Rickon calls his Shaggydog."
"Father doesn't name his dogs. He thinks they're just dumb animals." Myrcella admitted. "Mother doesn't like having me around animals, except to ride horses. She thinks they're dirty."
"Oh. My lord father wasn't keen on bringing direwolves into our home, but he does like his dogs. He gave me a pup when I was little, but the poor thing died in an accident. I was so distraught."
In that manner, the two girls continued talking until it was late and Myrcella left to retire. In the quiet of her borrowed bedchamber, she dreamed that her parents had given her a little fawn to play to with.
The following week, Lady Catelyn requested Myrcella's presence in her solar shortly after the midday meal. As before, Lady Catelyn offered her some warm tea, though Myrcella politely declined.
"My princess," Lady Catelyn began. "I see you've been spending quite a bit of time with Rena Snow. My boys say you're her new best friend."
Myrcella tensed, afraid that she had done something wrong. Was Lady Stark upset that she had befriended her husband's bastard? She didn't look particularly happy about it. Myrcella recalled rumors that her mother had killed some of her father's bastards, but Lady Catelyn was too nice to do such a thing. "I do enjoy Lady Snow's company. She is like an older sister to me."
A faint line appeared on Lady Catelyn's forehead. "I'm glad to hear that. You see princess, Lord Eddard and I had a... disagreement about what to do with his natural daughter. He must go to the capital, as his new position demands, yet I must remain here with my eldest and youngest sons. Robb must hold Winterfell in his father's place and Rickon is too young to make the journey. I told him he ought to take his daughter with him, because it would be a great chance for her to see the world outside Winterfell, yet he insists that she would be shunned at court, and thus would be better off remaining in Winterfell. Since you are such good friends with her, I thought it only appropriate to request that you take her on as a lady-in-waiting."
"Yes, Lady Stark I would love to have Rena at the capital with me." The words came out before Myrcella could process all that she had heard. Lady Catelyn wanted to get rid of her husband's bastard, but she also had a soft-spot for her. To have Rena remain in her household and Lord Stark elsewhere would be too much of affront on the lady's honor, yet she could not bring herself to cast the girl out into the streets. Or perhaps Lord Stark simply would not allow it.
The more Myrcella got to know Lord Stark, the stranger a man he seemed. For one thing, the fact that he had brought up his bastard daughter alongside his trueborn sons, raised her like a lady, confused everyone. He had a reputation for being honorable yet cold, yet his children were always talking about his gentleness and generosity. He and Lady Stark clearly loved each other, which was more than Myrcella could say for some other marriages she'd seen, yet he continued to dishonor her by making her care for his natural child.
Lady Stark seemed to relax a bit. "That's good to here. We'll just have to tell your parents and Lord Stark to see if they approve."
When Myrcella told her parents that night over supper, Mother immediately refused. "You can do so much better for a lady-in-waiting that a baseborn slut. There are dozens of gently-born ladies that would fall over themselves to be you ladies-in-waiting. Rena Snow isn't even a lady."
"Do you do anything with your mouth but complain?" Father growled at her as he lowered his goblet. "Let our girl take her as a lady-in-waiting. What's the harm? It's not as though she's going to marry Joff and take your crown."
"I would never marry her!" Joffrey proclaimed. "She's not worthy of this family, not even of the Starks."
Mother beamed at him. "See, even Joffrey agrees with me."
"I like Rena Snow." Tommen added quietly.
"And both our other children agree with me." Robert laughed, giving his youngest son a firm pat on the shoulder. "I named Ned my Hand to heal the rift that opened up between our houses. I haven't seen him in almost ten years, not since the krakens thought to challenge my reign. I would have married Myrcella to one his sons, but you refused, so this is the next best thing."
This was news to the children. Myrcella wasn't sure which of the Starks boys she would have liked to marry. Robb was to be Lord of Winterfell after his father, yet Hos was the most handsome and Brynden was the most fun; Bran was the sweetest boy and Rickon was too young for her.
"I already explained this to you," Mother glared, "Winterfell is too far away. I don't want to travel through plains and swamps and hills for weeks on end just to see my daughter. This land is barbaric and they don't even follow the right gods. It snows in the summer. What kind of place is that for a southron princess?"
"There you go again, always complaining. Look, I didn't betroth Myrcella to a Stark, yet still you whine. Give me peace, woman! Either Myrcella takes Lady Snow as a lady-in-waiting, or she takes one of her half-brothers as a husband."
Mother was practically boiling with rage. Through gritted teeth, she acquiescence. "Sweetling, you may take Rena Snow was a lady-in-waiting. But her beast remains in Winterfell."
"But Ghost is harmless! And she likes me." Myrcella cried.
With wide-eyed disbelief, Mother hissed, "Myrcella, that's unbecoming of a princess. See, she's already ruined you."
"My apologizes Mother." Myrcella scrambled to remember her mother's favorite compliments and repeated them. "You may trust that Rena Snow would never allow any harm to come to me."
Bran had fallen.
Catelyn had always been afraid that his climbing around the castle might have a bad end, but now that it had happened she could scarcely believe it. She sat at his bedside in silence, clutching her son's hand with tears streaming down her cheeks, as Maester Luwin fed him a potion of herbs and honey to keep him alive. What if he never awoke, never smiled at her, or laughed again? Maester Luwin said that Bran would never walk again, but Catelyn didn't care so long as her little boy lived.
The trip south had been delayed several days, but Catelyn could not be bothered with that. She remembered Ned and her other boys coming into the sickroom to say goodbye, but those memories seemed to come from a hundred years ago. Her only focus was Bran, the gentle rising and falling of his chest.
"My lady..." The bastard was standing in the doorway, already in her traveling clothes and ready to leave. "I came to say goodbye to Bran."
Get out of my sight, Catelyn wanted to say. Rena Snow's presence was the blight of her life, the constant reminder that her husband had loved another woman. To make matters worse, Rena was the kind girl Catelyn had always wanted to have as a daughter, so dutiful and eager to please. Once, Catelyn had played at being a mother to Rena, knowing that she was not threat to Catelyn or her son, just a sweet, quiet girl without a mother. An insult to House Tully's honor, yes, but her big purple eyes had always softened Catelyn to her. But that was years ago, so long ago Rena likely did not remember it. As time passed, Rena Snow began looking more like her mother, and became harder to love.
"Be quick about it."
The bastard went to Bran's beside, kissed his forehead and whispered something in his ear. As she started to leave, Catelyn's bitterness got the best of her. Was it the gods' notion of fairness that Catelyn's favorite son lay dying while her husband's bastard got a position at royal court?
"Rena..."
Snow turned around, visibly surprised to be addressed by her in such a soft tone. Lips parted, eyes wide, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Just like another woman Catelyn had once known. Ashara Dayne.
"It should have been you."
Rena had been to only one other city, White Harbor. The largest city in the North had changed hands many times in its long history, and was now held by House Manderly. Aptly named, the whole city was made of white stone, all the buildings were laid out in neat squares and circles around tall, thin fountains. The air smelled of sea foam and and cooking seafood, cool and clear.
King's Landing was nothing like that. The streets had been thrown haphazardly together, it seemed, and the buildings were a motley of wood, bricks and different colored stones. The scent of waste, poverty and smoke permeated the air, though it was a little less bad around the Red Keep. Rena didn't know what Aegon the Conqueror had been thinking when he raised this city from nothing, but she thought he could have done a better job.
When the royal procession arrived in King's Landing, Rena felt disappointed that wavered as she entered the royal palace. The Red Keep was much small than Winterfell, being built on the edge of a city and not upon wild, open countryside, but thrice as opulent. The cobblestone path leading from the main inner gate to the front entrance shined like bronze. Dark pink bricks had been used to make the castle, the roofs capped with dark grey stone.
"It's beautiful, isn't it." Myrcella whispered to Rena. They had been riding together in the wheelhouse, looking out of a small window. Queen Cersei and Prince Tommen sat across from them, both half-asleep though it was early afternoon. King Robert was staring at Rena and drinking. "Though the area around isn't a nice as the northern landscape."
"Aye. Your home is so lovely." Rena nodded. Before long, they arrived at the palace. A footman helped them out.
"Ah, I never thought I'd be glad to be in this old shithole again." King Robert exclaimed, a deep laugh starting the escape his throat. "Well, what do you think Rena? Not bad for a king, eh?"
Rena smiled uncomfortably. "Aye your Grace. The Red Keep is a wonderful palace." She looked off to the side, where the queen was hugging her eldest son, Joffrey, who had ridden in on a red gelding. Her half-brothers were around him, still mounted, their direwolves at their horses' heels. Ghost walked up to her, which made Tommen back up nervously. The larger the direwolves grew, the more uneasy other people became around them.
"Hey girl, we finally made it." Rena ruffled Ghost's bone-white fur. Winterfell's steward, Vayon Poole, approach, gave a deep, respectful bow and announced that Lord Stark was already in a council meeting and wanted his children brought to the Tower of the Hand immediately.
It didn't take long for the Starks to settle into their new home. Lord Stark was often busy at work running the realm; it became clear to them that King Robert had little interest in the running of the realm, so Rena's father had to pick up his work. The boys spent their days with the princes, the Kingsgaurd or the sons of courtiers. Hos was a favorite among the court, for he was so charming and handsome and eager to please. Brynden, always wild and rebellious, was not quite as taken with the city, but he seemed to be doing alright. While Rena served Myrcella as a lady-in-waiting - helping her choose her wardrobe, taking charge of her servants, organizing her schedule - her brothers had all been taken as squires to Ser Barristan the Bold. They were all often so busy that the Starks only saw each other at supper.
A few days after their arrival, they got the news that Bran had at last woken from his coma. That same night, Lord Stark took his children to the castle's godswood. It wasn't a true godswood - no weirwoods, no gods - but a place for recreation and rest. But it was closest they could get to their gods here in the south. But for the weirwood grove on the Isle of Faces, all the weirwoods south of the Neck had been destroyed long ago by the Andal invaders that sailed to the kingdoms of the First Men. In place of a heart tree, they prayed for Bran's heath in front of an old oak tree.
The Starks prayed until the moon was high and bright, like some great white eye surrounded by darkness. Brynden was the first to fall asleep, then Hos, then Rena felt her eyes get heavy. The stars seemed to whispers as they slept.
Her father's hand shook her awake some time later, when he had finished his prayers. She felt embarrassed for not having stayed awake longer, but her lord father didn't comment on it.
"I dreamt of Bran. He was smiling." Hos whispered as they climbed the stairs leading up the Tower of the Hand. "I dreamt he was flying."
The Tourney of the Hand was a welcome distraction from all the work. Hos and Brynden were too young to take part, but they were to allowed to trail after Ser Barristan. Thousands of knights, freeriders, merchants and ladies had arrived from ever corner of the Seven Kingdoms for the event. Banners in every colors fluttered in the sky. Rena arrived with Jeyne Poole and her tutor, Septa Mordane, in a pretty ironwood liter with grey curtains. When Rena stepped out of the liter, she noticed many people staring at her or whispering behind their hands.
Rena had taken care to look her best that day. Most of her dresses were plain and dark-colored, but Princess Myrcella had gently nudged her into purchasing an gown of rich lavender velvet, helped her embroider it and lent her a silver necklace. Her maid had braided her hair in the popular southron fashion, which felt odd and vaguely uncomfortable. Even next to the colorful, richly jeweled ladies of court, Rena felt overdressed.
If Lady Catelyn's stares were cool, Queen's Cersei's were as cold as the Wall in winter. Myrcella had confessed that her mother wasn't happy with the arrangement, but there was little need for that. The queen was quite good at making her grievances known, even without saying them aloud. When they had arrived in the capital, Queen Cersei had lost no time in banishing the direwolves to the Kingswood, stating that wild animals did not belong in the city.
Just before the list were about to begin, a handsome young knight in sapphire armor rode to where Rena and her company sat. From his sigil, Rena knew at once that this was Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. He looked so beautiful, his golden eyes staring in hers, his soft brown curls catching the sunlight. Her heart beat a little faster as he begged for the honor of wearing her favor in the joust. Rena breathlessly answered that he could, and tied her favor onto his left arm.
Ser Loras rode brilliantly, unhorsing each of his opponents, even Jaime Lannister. Each time he won he would give a rose to Rena, and before long she had a bouquet of fresh white and red flowers in her lap. Rena felt a queer mixture of pride and embarrassment when she noticed the envious looks from other maidens in the crowd. Some of them were even noblewomen.
His final tilt was against Ser Gregor the Mountain, a beast of man who stood almost eight feet tall, with limbs like tree trunks. Ser Gregor's horse was behaving strangely, costing him the tilt as Ser Loras unhorsed him. Then, to everyone's horror, Ser Gregor raised his sword to kill him horse, then turned to hack Ser Loras in two. The Hound, the Mountain's younger brother, stepped between them and defended Ser Loras from his brother's blade as King Robert bellowed for order.
Rena was shaking badly after nearly seeing Ser Loras die. One man had already spilled his lifeblood on the tourney field, a newly-made knight from the Vale who took Ser Gregor's lance to the throat. In thanks, Ser Loras awarded to victor's crown to the Hound. Then he assured to Rena that he had remained unharmed. Later that night at the celebratory feast, Ser Loras sat next to her on a table just below the raised dias where the royal family, as well as Rena's half-brothers, were seated. He was attentive to her throughout the night.
By morning, Rena was in love.
"I won't have to marry her, will I?" Loras complained. He laid in bed with Renly by his side, both of them naked and sweaty from their love-making.
"I've never known you to do anything half-way." Renly replied, getting out of bed to put his clothes back on. "That would be the expectation. You could have made a worse match. She's kind, unassuming, tractable, and perhaps the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms."
"Are you trying to get me to fall in love with her?" Loras laughed. He got up and wrapped his arms around his lover's waist. He gently nuzzled Renly's neck from behind.
"Loras, you know the expectations our families have us, regardless of our feelings. Marry a girl who won't make you miserable, before your father sets you up with someone like Cersei Lannister." Renly turned around to kiss Loras softly.
"I'd rather marry you."
Ned walked away from the Small Council meeting chambers with a headache beginning to bloom in his skull. Robert had been absent, as usual, so all the issues of the realm had been left to him alone. Varys continued his twittering, Littlefinger continued his sly, sarcastic remarks, Lord Renly continued his japes and mockery, though at one time he pulled Ned aside to show him a small portrait of Margaery Tyrell, younger sister to the Knight of Flowers. And still he was no closer to finding Jon Arryn's killer than he had been at when Lady Lysa's note had arrived in Winterfell.
At the moment, all he wanted was to return to the Tower of the Hand and eat supper with his children. By the time he got there the children were already finishing the first course, a thick orange soup. Ned opted to wait for the second course.
"My lord, there is something I must tell you." Rena said nervously. Her bowl was only half-eaten. "Today I received a proposal. Of marriage."
The table went silent. Hos and Brynden looked up abruptly at their half-sister. Ned was taken aback; he hadn't thought much about to whom he would give the hand of his only daughter. "Marriage? Who asked for your hand?"
"Ser Alyxander Templeton of the Vale. He's a cousin to the Knight of Ninestars. He asked me to marry him this afternoon and I told him I'd give him an answer at another time."
Ned looked at her, hardly believing that the little babe he'd found in a tower in Dorne was already old enough for a husband. "Do you wish to marry him Rena?"
She blushed, "He's...no, I do not. But I don't know how to refuse him. He's a knight from a noble house and I'm a bastard. He'd be terribly insulted."
"House Templeton is actually a knightly house." Hos corrected.
"But still, it would a great dishonor for him to be rejected by me." Rena lamented. "Father, could you decline his proposal on my behalf?"
"What do you have against Ser Alyxander? Does he drink or gamble? Is he a violent man? Has he an ill reputation?" Ned inquired. He shuttered at the thought that an immoral man might have designs on his child. He knew of the dangers that came when a girl was made to wed a man she had no love for.
Rena was looking more embarrassed by the minute. She muttered, "No, not that I am aware. I cannot marry Ser Alyxander because my heart belongs to another."
"She's in love with the Knight of Flowers." Brynden teased. "Snow and flowers don't go together well."
Hos looked pensive. "Ser Loras bestowed much attention to her at the tourney. If he had won, he would have crowned her Queen of Love and Beauty. But I'm not sure if his family would let him marry you. Ser Alyxander could be the only man to offer you marriage."
"That's silly Hos." Brynden said. "Father is Hand of the King. He can make any man marry her."
As the second course was laid out for them, Ned pondered on his daughter's situation. Romance was a subject in which he hadn't had much study. He'd married Catelyn for an army and had known no other woman. "I could talk to Ser Loras, if that is what you wish. If he will accept you, you can tell Ser Alyxander that I've already made a match for you."
The relief in Rena's eyes melted his heart. "Thank you Father."
"Of course." Ned replied with a wan smile. She looked so much like her mother in that moment, he felt himself choke. "I would do anything for you Rena."
While Mace was glad his son had finally a girl he fancied (he was beginning to fear there was something wrong with that boy), he was ambivalent regarding the girl herself. It was said that she was the most beautiful flower in Westeros, graced with the best parts of Lyanna Stark and Ashara Dayne. Yet she was illegitimate, and it would not do for his son to marry so far beneath his station. Loras' letter had insisted he bring Margaery to court in hopes that she might replace Cersei Lannister. There was no love lost between the king and his wife, Loras wrote, and a new, young face might convince him to set her aside.
What a clever lad! Mace thought. They would have to do something about the Lannister woman's three whelps, but to put a crown on his dear daughter's brow would be the sweetest thing. The king would love Margaery, for she was a sweet, proper girl. Not quite intelligent, but then again Robert Baratheon probably didn't care if his wife was not too clever. Besides, he was clever enough for his daughter.
He had his steward call the rest of his immediate family into his solar, where he read them the contents of the letters. Willas kept a tight frown on this face throughout, clearly not enthralled with this plan.
"It's a fool's gamble." His eldest son scoffed. "Father you can't honestly expect Cersei Lannister to quietly surrender her crown."
"Of course not Willas." Mace snapped. "But should this conflict come to the field-"
Willas interrupted him, "You speak for war before Robert has even seen her? Are we starting another War of the Usurper? Cersei's Rebellion?"
Once, Mace had hoped that he had sired a second Leo Longthorn. Instead he got a sarcastic cripple who tested his authority at every turn.
"I don't want my precious son marrying a bastard." Alerie announced. "Everyone says she's the daughter of a noblewoman, but Ned Stark never made clear who her mother was. She could just as easily be the daughter of a fishwife or a shepherd girl or, gods forbid, a Flea Bottom whore. Are the shades of Highgarden to be thus polluted? And what of her character? Bastards are treacherous, wanton creatures. A girl like that will only bring him misery and ruin. She's a temptress, to be sure, or else he would fallen in love with a proper lady."
"Willas and Alerie have the right of it." His lady mother Olenna agreed. "The Lannisters are proud and dangerous, and likely to turn their claws on us when they sniff out this scheme. Best not underestimate what they might do. And if Loras weds that girl, any man Margaery marries will have a bastard for a goodsister. Do you think the king will want to call his friend's bastard "sister"? Foolish boy, he ought to leave plots and scheming to people with more substance between their ears."
Stung, Mace replied. "And are we to insult Lord Stark then? Loras has already made his affection for her well-known. And I don't wish to break my boy's heart." But he knew his heir, wife and mother were correct in their assessment. Off to the side, Willas and Garlan were suppressing grins.
"Go to King's Landing." Alerie said. "Tell Lord Stark in person that you do not wish for the match. Traveling the whole way will assure him that you do not wish to insult him. And have Margaery bring her little cousins. Offer one of them to Lord Stark for one of his sons."
"And what say you Margaery?" Mace asked his daughter.
Margaery considered her answer for a moment. "I want to be queen. We have the resources and connection to enact this plan, but only if we're careful."
Olenna regarded her. "Will being careful stop Tywin Lannister from slitting our throats while we sleep?"
"Mother!" Mace gasped.
"It's alright Father." Margaery soothed in a calming voice. "My lady grandmother raises a fair point. Dissolving King Robert's existing marriage will be difficult, but only if we go about it the wrong way." She and her grandmother shared a knowing look that Mace did not understand.
While Rena waiting for the Tyrells, she received a summons from Kaela, the girl she had met almost nine moons past at the welcoming feast for King Robert. It was so long ago, Rena felt a bit guilty for not keeping in touch better. Myrcella had been alright with giving her the day off to make the visit. With her lord father's permission and Alyn as an escort, she set off for her friend's home.
The Whitewaters were not a noble family, but they were overflowing with wealth. The Whitewater Manse lay in one of the nicer parts of the city, near the Iron Gate, where wealthy commoners, well-off but unlanded knights and lesser nobles lived. The streets were clean, but the stench of Flea Bottom carried over on the wind.
The three-story tall manse was made of a light pink-brown stone. Hired guards stood watch at the all the door, but stepped aside on account of the Stark direwolf on Alyn's surcoat. A tall, gaunt man greeted them in the parlor, his face stern. He looked just like Kaela and Ava, with the same bright red hair and brown eyes, though he had none of their warmth.
"Lady Snow, its an honor to have you in my home. My name is Gernon Whitewater. I'm the head of this household." he said with a bow.
"It is an honor to meet you as well Master Whitewater." Rena replied with a polite smile.
He seemed to puff up with pride at the title. "I understand my daughter and niece requested to see you. If I may ask, what is your prior acquaintance with them?"
"Kaela and Ava were good company to me during their recent visit to Winterfell and on the journey back to the city." Rena replied. So Ava had asked for her too? Kaela hadn't mentioned that in her note.
"The girls are upstairs with the child. Come, I shall escort you."
Child? Years of being forced to spent time around Lady Catelyn and Septa Mordane had trained Rena to control the expressions on her face as well as she played the high harp. Gernon led her to a chamber on the third floor.
Ava, looking tired and pale, was propped on a bed, a pink, black-haired babe nursing at her breast. Kaela gave her a wan smile before signalling to her father to leave them alone.
"You both look well." Rena said. "I don't know you'd had a child Ava."
"A son." Ava replied proudly. Her loud voice, made for laughing, had grown quiet. "A good, strong son named Ormund Waters. Would you like to see him?"
Rena sat down on the edge of the bed and Ava put the child into her arms. Ormund had beautiful, bright blue eyes and thick dark hair. His features were somewhat familiar, though she couldn't quite place why.
"He looks like his father, doesn't he? Not a bit of me in him." Ava said wistfully.
Rena studied the babe closer, and remembered the feast at Winterfell. Astonished, she remarked. "He does. He's perfectly alike to King Robert."
"Are you sure?" Kaela said skeptically. A bit of bitterness laced her words. "Ava's had so many men in her bed its hard to tell."
"I've seen King Robert many times." Rena assured them. "Ormund is, without a doubt, his son."
Ava glowed with triumph. "I told you I knew who his father was Kaela. Lady Snow, you must tell Robert about him."
"Absolutely not!" Kaela explained, her face turning beet red. "You will not humiliate this family further by making the Hand's daughter your errand girl and having her tell the King that you had a bastard."
"His child." Ava whined. "He got a bastard on that Florent girl, and now the boy lives in a castle."
"Edric Storm? His mother was highborn, Ava, with a powerful name and an influential father." Kaela clenched her teeth. "Lady Rena, I swear if I had known what my cousin's intentions were I wouldn't have called you here. I didn't think she would insult you this way."
"I'm not bothered." Rena said quickly. She gave Ormund back to his mother. "I've always liked children. I suppose I could relay this information to the King."
"You don't have to." Kaela replied. She put a hand on Rena's shoulder.
Rena looked to Ava, then to Ormund. "I don't think he'll mind if he hears it from my lips. King Robert has always been...partial to me. My father is his closest friend."
Unexpectedly, Tyrell banners were flying overhead. Alyxander watched from his tower window in Maegor's Holdfast as the golden roses of Highgarden marched into the Red Keep. The Fat Flower himself had been ridding up the Roseroad for a fortnight, long after the Hand's Tourney. He could only have one cause for coming to King's Landing.
"She marrying the Knight of Flowers." He muttered dully to no one in particular. "She chose him."
His younger brother Baxton sat at the writing desk, writing another letter to their mother at Ninestars. "You don't know that for certain." He said gently.
"I proposed to her nearly a fortnight past, and still she's given me no answer." Alyxander sighed.
"Are you going to congratulate them on their upcoming nuptials?" Baxton folded the parchment and sealed it with button of golden wax.
"I suppose I have to." Alyxander closed his eyes, picturing Rena Snow in his mind's eye. The Hand's natural daughter had a stunning beauty, accentuated by her quiet, careful manners. He remembered the first time he saw her, while King Robert was holding court. She had been standing beside her father, Lord Eddard of Winterfell, a position that bespoke of his favor. Her dark grey dress was plain, but it looked more lovely on her than the Queen's elaborate cloth-of-gold gown. 'Had she ever even looked at me?' Alyxander was a comely young man; not as beautiful as Ser Loras, but handsome enough to catch the eyes of several women around the Vale. His hair was a vibrant shade of red, his eyes a cool pale green.
If only he had performed better at the tourney, he would have impressed her. It would have been him filing her arms with flowers, not Ser Loras.
"Do you need a drink?" Bax offered him a wineskin.
Alyxander declined. He sat by the window for another two hours while Bax worked on another letter to a friend of his in the Westerlands.
"I think I'll go down to the training yard now." Alyxander decided suddenly. "I need to clear my head."
"It's a bit late for that. The sun's close to setting." Bax observed.
"I'll go alone then." Alyxander shrugged. He took his black sable cloak and marched for the door. To his surprise, when he opened the door Rena Snow was standing behind it, her hand half raise to knock. She looked as poised as ever, but Alyxander noticed that her eyes were faintly pink.
"Lady Rena." He stammered. "I wasn't expecting you."
"My apologies ser. I came to seek an audience, but believe I've interrupted you."
"It was nothing important." Alyxander remarked. "Would you like to come in?"
"Your hospitality is appreciated Ser Alyxander." Rena Snow gave him a sad, half-smile.
He led her into the chamber where Baxton was writing his letter. The younger man looked up, surprised to see the object of his brother's affections, and greeted her politely.
"I'll leave you two to it." He smirked as he left the room.
When they were alone, Alyxander felt as though his heart was about to rupture. He nervously offered her some wine, but she declined.
Instead, she stated. "I must apologize for making you wait so long for an answer. I am grateful for your attention Ser Alyxander, truly, but this was not an easy decision to make."
He waited in tense silence to hear her rejection.
"I would be honored to become your wife."
I've wanted to do this idea for a while, but I never got around to it until now. It turned out a lot longer than I originally planned, and it's not ever close to containing all the ideas I had for it since I usually do one-shots. No promises on when I'll update next, but I am hoping to make the other chapters just as long, if not longer, that this one (!). Yes, Alyxander and Baxton are OCs. I wasn't really planning on making them; it just sort of happened. But I like them and hopeful I'll get to portray them better later, since they didn't show up until the last section. I'm probably going to have to make more OCs out of necessity, but the story will still mostly focus on existing characters as well as the Templetons.
Just in case you were confused, Hoster "Hos" Stark = m!Sansa, Brynden Stark = m!Arya.
Also, I changed fem!Jon's name from Lya, to Arsa, to Rena. If you're reading this again and noticed that the name is different, don't worry because its just me not being able to make up my mind.