Yeah… so much for me not updating all the time.
Oh well. Here it goes.
I hope you like it. Let me know what you think.
Oh and geez, you REALLY want an Aegon story. I kind of feel petrified :D I'm still not sure what I will do. I have a few options swimming around in my head, but we'll see. After all, there's still time.
Either way, I hope you like this chapter :)


The sky was cloudy today, but it was warm all the same. Even with the breeze present, it was not cold enough for me to wear a dress out of thinner fabric, with longer sleeves and a high neckline.

I cannot remember a time when Highgarden was as crowded as it was now. Noble families from all over Westeros have come all the way down to the Reach, at our invitation. Most of the noble families brought plenty of men and family members. At nights, our main hall was full to the last seat and during the day, the streets were crowded with people exploring our town and castle.

Singers were at every corner, making people stop in their tracks and listen to the songs, often giving them a coin or two. Servants were carrying food everywhere. The streets, the garden, even the training ring; you will find a drink and fresh fruit waiting for you, served with a smile of our people.

Three days before the tournament starts. We have to wait for more than ten days for this crowd to thicken and for us to go back to our daily routines.

I do not like change and I cannot always handle it well. While this tournament bothered and annoyed me at first, I was starting to enjoy it now. It was different and it ultimately started to seem like a good change. Of course, this is only the start. Not even all of the guests have arrived. By the time it is over, I might change my mind ten times, going from thinking this was the height of our stupidity, or that this was the best thing that has ever happened to our house.

At the very least, I was never short of a good conversation. Both men and women, both our people and guests, everyone was talking and everyone was in a good mood. Even Oberyn did not stare at the Lannisters with the same intensity he did when they first arrived. Oh, there is still a thirst for revenge in those brown eyes, that goes without saying. But now I believe that revenge will wait.

Surprisingly lovely and very overwhelming. That is how I would describe these last few days. At least I was not alone. I got to share it all with my siblings. All three of them, now that Loras has returned.

"My money is on the Kingslayer," Loras speaks up and I focus on the conversation yet again. "I've seen what he can do. He has strength. Brilliant with a sword." He tells us.

"Yes, but this is a joust, not a swordfight," Willas laughs at him. "If it was a weapon of choice, I would put it down to Oberyn. Seeing as it is a joust, it could be anyone."

"Even you, brother," I add, making all of them laugh, even Loras.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Margaery asks before taking a sip of her wine. "Loud cheers, a bit of glory and it will all disappear by the time the next tournament is organized."

"Since when are you the cynical one?" Willas asks in surprise. "I thought that roll belongs to Clara."

"Thank you." I speak up, nodding at him.

"Willas, even I get tired of all the smiling and the small talk," Margaery tells him. Come to think of it, she does look tired. She is definitely not smiling now. "Last night, I was seated next to Edmure Tully."

"Oh, you are the one to complain," I laugh, while the three of them look at me in surprise. "I would gladly sit next to Edmure Tully. I spent half the night listening to Dickon Tarly singing praises to himself. Tyrion Lannister commented that I looked as if I wanted to drown myself in my goblet, and he wasn't far from the truth." I add as the three of them laugh at my rant.

"Gods help the men who seek out Tyrell women." Loras laughs.

"Sometimes even men," I say, raising my gobbled as if I was toasting him. Margaery and Willas both laugh, while Loras shoots daggers with his eyes. "Oh, I am just teasing you."

"You are lucky that you are my sister and that I love you very much, you know that?" He asks. Even if his words were seemingly kind, his eyes were still icy. I meant no harm with my words and this is hardly the first time I teased him in such a way, but perhaps it would be good for me to change my ways. Or, at the very least, choose a more appropriate time for teasing and jests.

"Margaery is right," Willas speaks up. As the eldest of the four, Willas was… the leader, I suppose. "As soon as all of this is over, we will all go back to our regular lives."

Willas is the leader, the protector, the smart one.

Margaery is the loving one, the quiet one, the one that smiles the most.

Loras is the strong one, the loud and funny one.

And who would I be? The cynical one, as Willas suggested? The one that observes?

"Enjoy it while it lasts, is that what you suggest?" I ask him.

"Well, yes," Willas agrees. "Or try not to lose your mind while it lasts."

"Easier said than done," Margaery sighs, before turning to me. "So, should we change places tonight?"

"If they seat me next to Dickon, yes, please," I agree, knowing I would take Edmure Tully over Dickon Tarly, any day. Lord Edmure is… a nice man. He is not particularly charming, nor particularly intelligent, but our conversation cannot possibly be worse than the one I had with Dickon.

"Loras is right," Willas laughs. "Gods help those men."

I do not have a chance to fight back, since a loud horn sounds, warning as of the arrival of our guests. All four of us turn and lean over the balcony to see who it is; it does not take us long to notice the banners approaching our castle. A grey beast on white background.

"That would be the Starks," I sigh. "Shall we?" I ask, looking at my sister.

"We must hurry," she agrees, jumping out of her seat. "They will arrive by the time we get there."

"Look at the two of them, running to meet up with Northerners," Loras tells Willas, laughing.

"Shut up," Margaery and I say at the very same time, only making them laugh more. With an eye roll instead of a goodbye, I turn around and follow my sister. We do start running at one point, trying to make it to the courtyard on time. We were the ones who were supposed to great them.

Willas and Loras did not care so much for it, and Grandmother insisted that the two of us should be present, just like we were when we were greeting the Lannisters. Without a doubt, she is trying to start our relationships in a good way, especially if a marriage pact is to be made in the future.

If I greet them in a nice dress and with a lovely smile, I might just make them see that I am the perfect woman for them and that they should ask for my hand.

Personally, I would like to think that it would take more than a pretty and low cut dress to make my future husband impressed, but men are simple. Far more simple than women will ever be. Sometimes, all that it truly takes is a warm smile and a nice dress.

Running, Margaery and I get there just in time, as they have not yet passed the gate. We slow down, trying to catch our breaths and calm down.

"Come," Margaery sighs, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me around towards her. I have no time to react as she pulls my dress down a little bit, making my chest even more revealed than it was before. Even worse, she grabs my hair and pulls it back. It does not stop there; she puts all of my hair over one shoulder, so that it falls down, wavy and long, but does not cover the most important part of me. I felt like a doll, and it did not help that I noticed our brothers laughing on the same balcony we were on just moments ago.

"Are you done?" I ask, not hiding my irritation towards her. Margaery smiles and catches me by surprise when she pinches my cheeks.

"I am now," she smiles, looking as angelic as ever. Yes, she did a good job with preparing me too look as best as possible, but she did not help my mood. "Smile, sister. This might just be your future husband."

"To hell with them," I roll my eyes.

Margaery has no time to respond, as they finally enter castle grounds. Both of us were too busy smiling and looking beautiful, too busy to bicker.

They brought men, although not as many as the Lannisters did. All of them were on horses and I did not know where to look at first. Lord Stark has a son my age, possibly the strongest contender for my hand, and as I was looking at them all, I realize that most of them look fairly young. It could be anyone of them.

However, I had no problem in knowing who Lord Stark was. The man wasn't old either, although older than the rest of them. Without a doubt, he had fewer years behind him than our father did. A muscular, tall man. But of course, all of them look tall on horseback.

"Smile," Margaery utters to me. I smile, amazed at her ability to know I was not smiling, even without looking at me. I smile as if my life depended on the way I showed my teeth.

"Lord Stark," she laughs. "Welcome to our home. Did you travel well?" She asks him.

"Very well," he smiles at her as he dismounts his horse. "Lady Clara, I presume?" he asks.

"Oh, the other way around, Lord Stark," I laugh. "My sister, Margaery. And I am Clara." I smile him.

"My apologies," Lord Stark smiles as he kisses my hand and then, Margery's as well. I might be the older sister, but Margaery is more known across Westeros, if only for her beauty. I imagine Lord Stark expected the eldest daughter to speak. To us, it never really mattered.

"Welcome," I smile at him. "Is this your first time at Highgarden, my lord?" I ask.

"Yes, my lady," he smiles at me and as he speaks, three men approach us, one closer than the others.

He is tall and wide in the shoulders, with a smile on his face, curly, auburn hair and a smile on his face as our eyes met; I look away instantly, looking at the man behind him. Same age, no older than 20. Tall, dark, handsome and smirking my way. Once again, I look away and for a change, the next man was not looking at me. He had dark hair and dark eyes and looked as if he did not want to be here.

And that would be my possible, future husband.

"Let me introduce my sons," Lord Stark speaks up and I look at him again, as he steps aside to let his son pass. "My heir, Robb." He announces and I try to hold back my surprise when the auburn man steps up, smiling as he kisses my hand, and then smiling as he kisses my sisters hand. The other man looked more like Lord Stark than his heir does. "And this is Bran." I smile as a little boy approaches us and does the same as his brother did, although looking far more nervous.

"Lord Bran," I smile at him, my smile growing when the boy's cheeks blush. "How old are you?"

"Ten, Lady Clara." He tells me.

"Ten?" I ask, feigning surprise. "Ten? You look much older and stronger, my Lord. Will you be a part of the tournament?" I ask, making him chuckle in surprise.

"No, my lady. I'm too young." He shakes his head.

"Says who?" I ask. I may not have any particular talents. I am not a good singer, nor am I a particularly good dancer, but I know how to speak to children. "My brother Loras is a knight, and you look much stronger than he does." I say to the boy. Only a part of me was lying.

"Thank you, my Lady," He smiles and when I look up, I see both Eddard Stark and his son smiling at our exchange.

"Lady Clara is very kind," Lord Stark returns my smile. "We have bothered you enough, I am afraid."

"Nonsense, Lord Stark." Margaery laughs.

"And the rest of your children?" I ask, looking at the two men behind them.

"Oh," Lord Stark's eyes widen. "Theon Greyjoy, our warden. And Jon Snow." He adds.

Oh Gods be good. Not only have I embarrassed myself, I also made a man introduce his bastard soon. I should have known better. We have all heard the story about the bastard of Winterfell. I should not have questioned Lord Stark's decision to not introduce us to everyone.

"Lord Stark," Margaery steps in, presumably in the hopes of rescuing this conversation from the fire I just pushed it in. "I'm sure you and your men would like some rest and a warm bath. Our servants will take you and your men to your respective quarters. We will have more chance to speak at the feast tonight." She tells him, playing her part as Margaery, the rescuer, perfectly.

"Thank you, my lady." He smiles. "We will speak tonight. Lady Clara, Lady Margaery." He nods his head before following our servants. The rest of his men go their separate ways, some after him, some to the staples, after our own staple boys, to take care of their horses.

In a matter of moments, Margaery and I are left alone at the stairs.

"What in the name of Gods were you thinking?" my sister asks, hissing at me in a low voice. "The man has a bastard he raised as his own son, it's common knowledge. Why point it out?"

"Margaery, do not chastise me," I warn her, annoyed by the tone of her voice. We might be equals in many ways, but I am her older sister. Some respect should be present when she speaks to me. "I made a fool of myself and I am well aware of that. No need to point it out." I sigh, shaking my head at my own stupidity. "Did you see the other one?" I ask.

"Yes, he looks more like his son than his actual son does," she agrees.

"The other one might be a bastard, but he's still his son," I correct her. "Could you imagine that? If father had a bastard son? He would be our brother but at the same time, he wouldn't be our brother. I cannot imagine how difficult that was for their whole family."

"Most men do not raise their bastards," Margaery tells me. "Raising them does not magically rebuild the honor they have lost. He never should have had him in the first place."

"What, you believe father never had another woman other than mother?" I ask her, laughing.

"No, he had whores, I know that," Margaery admits. "But he has no bastards."

"For all we know, he has ten of them," I tell her.

"Precisely. Even if he has them, we know nothing."


"Clara! Are you even listening to me?" Willas asks and I snap my head to him.

"Yes, yes, of course I am." I lie.

"Oh, you are, aren't you?" He questions me, frowning. "What was I saying?" he asks.

"I have no idea," I admit, not bothering to think of a lie. Willas would not believe me, no matter what I said. "I'm sorry, Willas. My mind is… all over the place." I sigh.

"Yes, and so are your eyes," He tells me, earning a confused look. "Oh, please. You and Margaery might have your girly conversations, but I know you well. Better than you'd like, probably. You haven't stopped looking that way ever since you the feast started." He says, nodding his head in the direction I was looking at. As he always does, Willas read me like an open book. A lot of people seem to be doing that quite well, these days. Whatever happened to my ability to hide my emotions and thoughts?

"Alright dear brother," I sigh. "You are smart and you see right through me."

"Not all the way," Willas smiles at me. "See, I have noticed where you were looking at, but I cannot quite see who you were looking at." He tells me. Gods be damned, he's good. "Which one is it? The heir or the bastard? Or, perhaps, the Greyjoy?" He asks, smirking my way.

"Gods, you are like a younger, male version of Grandmother." I grunt.

"Ah, she would be so proud of you." Willas laughs.

"Would she now?" I ask, directing my attention towards the cup of wine in my hand. "Out of all the noble houses, most of which have their finest specimen right in this hall, I choose to look at them? I think her ghost would haunt me, as I would still disappoint her in the afterlife."

"Clara, I find that highly unlikely," he shakes his head at me. "So, who is the handsome fellow that caught your attention? Do tell, dear sister." He urges me. With Willas, at times I cannot tell if he is jesting or if he is serious. No one can tease me as well as he can.

"All of them," I admit. Willas raises an eyebrow at me before he bursts out laughing, making people turn their heads our way. I smile, pretending like everything is fine, before I kick my brother under the table, praying to Gods that I did not accidently kick his bad leg. "Stop it, Willas. I did not mean it like that."

"Oh, yes you did." He laughs. I will never hear the end of it.

"Willas, please," I sigh, rolling my eyes. "They are all… attractive in their own way. And you know how people are. When something is new and a bit unusual, we are all attracted to it, we all want to see what it's about. They are the newest addition to this mess. Of course my interest is peaked."

"Yes, yes, I understand," He shakes his head. "What I am truly wondering is why Greyjoy? Really?"

"Yes," I confirm, frowning and looking back to where I was looking before, at the three men sitting on the edge of the table, talking amongst themselves and looking as if all of this might be too much, more than they've bargained for. "He is not the most handsome out of the three, but look at him. He has the stature. The dark one looks away, the red one smiles and nods, acting like a proper lord and only Greyjoy shows any kind of emotion. He is confident." I point out.

"There is a difference between cocky and confident, Clara," He tells me. "Look at Oberyn."

He had a point. Oberyn was a confident man, but he never had to point out his confidence; it is something that came natural to him, as a part of him. Theon Greyjoy did not have such ease.

"Still, he is intriguing," I admit. "As are the other two, I have to say."

"Perhaps you should have this conversation with Loras?" Willas suggests and although I hit him on the shoulder, I bite my lip to prevent myself from laughing. The only thing Willas is better at than teasing me is teasing our younger brother and sister. To me, that is a far more enjoyable activity.

"No need for that, I'm afraid," I grin at him. "I look, but I do not touch."

"Huh, I'm afraid you might just have to," Willas comments, and before I could ask for clarification, I notice what he is looking at. Jaime Lannister was approaching our table and he was looking right at me.

"Lord Willas, Lady Clara," he greets us both with a nod as he approaches us. "What a marvelous feast you have prepared for us. More marvelous than the night before." He tells us.

"And what of the one from two nights ago?" I joke. I was surprised when both my brother and Ser Jaime chuckle at it; although I am not the master of jokes, I suppose they find this whole thing tiring, just as much as I do.

"Pale in comparison," Jaime tells us. "Could I ask for this dance, Lady Clara?" He asks.

"Of course. It would be an honor," I say as I stand up, making my way to him. When I was a child, I would spend hours on my feet, dancing through the whole feast, whether it was with a man or by myself. Now, I do not enjoy it, not nearly as much. I do not have two left feet, but I am not nearly as gracious as I once use to be. Every now and then, I would dance, but not like this, not in front of everyone. It was a secret of me and my siblings, not something as public as this. Nor was it as formal as this. Still, I could never refuse a dance, or a man from a noble house. Especially not a man that also happens to be a knight.

I smile at Jaime as he moves us through the crowd of other dancing partners; Margaery was smiling at Oberyn, looking not nearly as comfortable as I did when I danced with him. Oberyn pulls you in too close and holds you just a bit too tight. I was used to it, but my sister was not. Close to her, Loras danced with Martyna Lannister, Jaime's beautiful cousin. Loras was not enjoying his dance either, I am afraid.

I was. I would have preferred a conversation over a goblet of wine, but I enjoyed the dance.

"Are you excited about the tournament, Ser Jaime?" I ask him, knowing that silence could soon grow to be quite uncomfortable. Since he did not show any signs of planning to speak first, I had to take that upon myself. Luckily, I learned from the best. Our Grandmother may be the Queen of Thorns, but Margaery was the Queen of Meaningless Conversation.

In her defense, it wasn't her who made the conversation meaningless. The girl could find a topic with anyone; from a grief stricken mother to a war shaped warrior. Even with Dickon Tarly.

She taught me her ways, but I never seemed to master it as well as she has.

"Very much so, Lady Clara," he smiles. "And you?"

"Oh yes, I cannot wait to find myself in armor," I joke. Again, I was not expecting him to laugh but he does. "Ser Jaime, I am afraid tournaments are more fun for men than they are for women. We watch and we cheer. If we are lucky, we get a crown of winter roses by the end of it. Personally, I find the days before the tournament more fun. I get to speak to interesting people, dance with handsome knights…"

"Ah, and which group do I belong to?" He asks me.

"I am yet to decide," I say, feeling my smile grow. This was a change. A pleasant one, at that. Ever since I met him, he has been nothing but nice to me, which is why I never looked at him the way most people did. A Kingslayer, a Lannister, an intimidating knight… Yes, he is all of that. But he is also a nice man and a bloody good dancer and I believe that just now, he was trying to charm me.

"I must do my best then," he announces. To my complete surprise, he twirls me as we dance and I start laughing when he pulls me closer to himself. "Now?" he asks, smiling.

"Ser Jaime, are you drunk?" I ask. That sounded a lot better in my head.

"What makes you say that?" He asks through laughter. Thank Gods, he was not insulted. I have embarrassed myself enough for one day; I still felt guilt about what happened earlier with Lord Stark and his children. Well, his children, his warden and his bastard son, to be precise.

"You just seem to be… more fun. Smiling more than you did before." I explain.

"It's a celebration. I should celebrate, should I not?" He asks and I nod, laughing.

"Yes, you absolutely should. But you should smile more often as well. I think you're too serious when the King is around. Or perhaps it is your sister that makes you serious?" I suggest.

And there I go and do it again. I'm going to have to ask Margaery to sew my mouth shut.

"It is not my sister, or the King, Lady Clara," he tells me. He is still smiling, but I am afraid he is not as content as he was before my comment. "It is duty that makes a man dull."

"I never said dull, Ser Jaime," I say, hoping that my compliment might save me. "In all honesty, most men I had the pleasure of meeting were quite dull. Swords and women, women and swords…" I sigh.

"Well, men are very simple," he agrees. "No wonder you like speaking to my brother."

"Well, your brother is one of the more interesting ones," I agree with a small smile. "But you are no less interesting, Ser Jaime. I thought you might be drunk, because you were laughing and dancing. Laugh and dance more often, I would suggest." I say.

"Perhaps if you offer to be my dancing partner every night, I might just do that?" he suggests, smiling down. Gods, his eyes really are strikingly green. And he absolutely was trying to charm me.

"Anytime, Ser Jaime." I agree. "You are as good of a dancer as you are a knight."

"And you are good at lying," he tells me and I burst out laughing.

"I am, actually, but that was not a lie," I shrug. What Jaime Lannister wanted to say to me, I will never know, as the song stopped and before I know it, I was in Oberyn's arms and Margaery was in Jaime's.

"You again," I laugh at Oberyn. "Will you ever leave me alone?" I laugh.

"Never, my love." he promises.

"Keep it up and you will ruin all of my marriage prospects."

"Is my plan that obvious?" he smirks at me. He is… unbelievable. As soon as I think that I have seen or heard everything from him, he surprises me again. He is lucky. I actually like him and I do not find his moves insulting or annoying. If I had any less patience, this all would not go down well.

"Apparently, yes," I sigh. "Oberyn, I am serious. You are a dear friend, but I will never get married if they thing you bed me every night. So, if you are not going to marry me, and you already told me that you won't, keep your distance. At least when we are dancing." I warn him.

"Perhaps I have changed my mind." He shrugs.

"No, you haven't," I smile as I shake my head. "Just… play nice, Oberyn. Be fair."

"Even so, you will never marry the Kingslayer," he scoffs. "He has a pretty face, I'll give him that. But that sister of his has him in her lion claws."

Everyone knows how close the two of them are. I imagine that is what happens with twins. Oberyn does have a point there. If Jaime ever marries, it is obvious that his lady wife will have to struggle with the connection he has with his sister.

"How do you know? My father would be happy to hand me off to a Lannister," I tell him. "That would probably be the best possible option for him."

"Ser Jaime is a knight of the Kingsguard. He will not marry, not ever," Oberyn tells me. I knew that even before Oberyn pointed it out, but it would not be the first time that a knight left, took a land, a title and a wife. "And Mace Tyrell would never hand you over to the Imp."

"You do not know him," I shake my head. "He will hand me over to whoever gives the best offer. He would not care if it's Tyrion Lannister or if it's the King himself."

"And the Lady of Thrones will simply sit back, put her feet up and let him do it?" he asks me.

"Alright, now I have had it," I say as I pull away from him. "It's bad enough I have to think about it. I do not want to talk about it as well, and it seems to be your favorite topic these days. Unless you have a better conversation topic, Oberyn, keep away from me." I sigh as I walk away.


I could still hear the music and the laughter from the hall, and my chambers are on the completely opposite part of the castle. I have had my fill for the night. After my conversation with Oberyn, I stayed only for a little while, before excusing myself and making a swift exit. My parents have four children. They could survive with only the three of them entertaining guests for one night.

Under candlelight and with a cup of wine by my side, I sat on my balcony, quill in hand.

Sometimes I write, sometimes I draw, sometimes I just twirl the quill between my fingers, staring at the sky above me. Tonight, I wrote. I wrote, trying to ignore the chorus of noise, coming from the hall.

Not that many words formed in my mind. I caught myself simply staring at the parchment, with only six words written. Tonight is just not my night, just as today was not my day.

It started with the embarrassment with Lord Stark, followed by my poor choice of words whilst dancing with Ser Jaime. Finally, it ended with my quarrel with Oberyn. Well, I cannot say if that should be called a quarrel. I was the only one speaking and I ran away before Oberyn had a chance to respond.

It will be better in the morning.

No words will be written tonight.

I pull my robe closer to me, knowing that the wind can easily trick us; it does not feel as cold, but if you are not well covered, your nose will run tomorrow morning. More covered than before, I walk toward the edge of the balcony where I lean on it and look around at Highgarden.

There really is no place more magical than this one. I don't care what I see or what I do. Not only will Highgarden be my home, but it will always remain the best place in the whole of Westeros. At least as far as I am concerned.

I notice someone moving down the stairs bellow my balcony. Instinctively, I look down. I was not expecting to recognize the person walking; while my balcony was lit up with candles and torches, the stairs bellow only had a few torches at every other corner. It was fairly dangerous, seeing as most of our guests do not know Highgarden by hart, and some of the stairs can be quite steep. I look at the shadow and to my complete and utter surprise, I recognize it at once.

It was the stature. The stature and the hair.

I watch as Jon Snow, Lord Eddard Stark's bastard son, walks up and down the walls.

Wind blows and the torches on my balcony flicker. Of course, that draws his attention. Our eyes meet and while my first instinct was to look away, or even better, to crouch down and hide behind the bricks, I do not do it. I stay in my place and I keep my eyes on him.

The uncomfortable feeling I felt in me starts to grow. We stare at each other, not moving, not even nodding our heads to one another. He turns around and walks away, exactly one second before it became too uncomfortable.

Well, this was surprising.