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Chapter 4: Sansa, 302 AC
As she looked at herself in the mirror, Sansa was once again reminded her nameday was within a fortnight. The thought brings a smile to her face. How could she control it? Why would she? The week after, she would be married to a man she knew and loved; a man who would make her a queen.
The dreams she had as a young girl were finally going to be realized in front of gods and men and her mother. Thinking about her dear mother gives her naught but joy, that and longing. It has been far too long since she had seen her. Of course, it was not only her mother she was going to see. Robb would be and Bran would be here. Jon was coming too, though in his capacity of the Lord Commander's Steward and not strictly as her family. Yet, she knew, he was that equally.
'Family', she thinks again; though, now her smile dims. Father was not going come.
She is unsure if Father would have wanted to attend her wedding. Part of her does not know whether or not she wanted him to want to. Once she might have been shaken at the merest possibility of it though even before, on the rare occasions father took any interest in her, usually after she and Arya fought over something or other, he'd say, in that gruff way of his, she had acted "like a lady ought" only for him smile at her sister in a way he never had for her.
And now while his absence might have been noteworthy, with murmurs of "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" and 'Robb can do the honors in Father's stead' most nod agreeably. Even though it should not be so easy to explain away, who can deny Ned Stark's uneasy past with King's Landing?
The days of her childhood had been good days, but, she remembers how it used to be feeling so odd because she had been so different from her brothers and sister; so different from him.
It hurt knowing the one thing she learned about her father before them had been that he'd been lying to them all. What hurt more was that, he'd been lying to mother and Uncle Benjen before that and now they were all complicit in a lie. It goes against everything he taught her, Arya, and her brothers.
"Thinking so much will give you wrinkles. No one likes a queen with them."
She tries to laugh at Rhaenys' words. To her disgust the sound comes out like a garbled sigh. She will be queen in little under a month. She ought to do better even if she had little to hide from her future good-sister.
She gestures to Rhaenys to take a seat while straightening in her own. "If I am to be a queen, then I will order them not to appear." Silly words to say, but, she would say anything to keep those other thoughts at bay.
Rhaenys pours herself a glass of wine. The Dornish vintage, she notes when Rhaenys jokes back, "It is good that you have the hauteur enough for a queen to try."
Then, Rhaenys adds, "You look worried."
She sighs. "I am simply thinking."
She grimaces even before she sees Rhaenys rolls her dark eyes. "Obviously. What about?"
"Marriage."
Only the years they spent in close company allow her to see the widening of Rhaenys' eyes. "Aegon loves you."
"I love him just as much." She means it. Even if they fought at times, once quite thoroughly, she knew this.
Rhaenys' curiosity is so very clear. "And yet?"
"My father loved my mother and I cannot stop thinking of how he lied to her for years."
Rhaenys frowns and then the expression was gone when she licked her lips. She knew what it meant: an attempt at being tactful when Rhaenys wishes she did not have to be. "And I remember your row with Aegon about his own lies and mine. You reconciled that eventually. You never properly reconciled with your father. Is that is what bothers you?"
She wished it was. "You lied to me, not everyone you claimed to love. It was not his lie to begin with or yours."
Rhaenys whispers, "That is the difference, is it?"
In part. 'You are a good girl, Sansa.' 'You should be truthful and conduct yourself with honor.'
He used to say those words all-the-while lying to everyone about others who acted dishonorably, by his own estimation. "If you lied, Father lied first. It is not even the matter of him, either. I know the truth kept from me, from everyone. You know as well as I do everyone who should know does."
And it is still a lie the have to tell most.
Rhaenys opens her mouth and in the next moment presses her lips together. After a while, she asks, "It is not that your cousin is coming to the wedding is it?"
If it was far from the first time she heard 'Your cousin' from her friend even if it was rare to hear Rhaenys acknowledge the true relationship Jon had with them at all.
Sansa shrugs. "Jon and I played as children, but, like with Robb, he had his own studies and I had mine. When I came south he went north. I think I should like to see him. Of course, besides, he is coming as the Lord Commander's Steward; not quite as a relation."
She does not add he is not coming as a relation of either Rhaenys' or Aegon's even if no one else was around to hear the truth of it.
Obviously knowing what she had not said, Rhaenys looks away for a moment. Then, "Do you want it to change?"
Their relationship already has changed and it took a revelation of the truth to manage it. "There is nothing to change. I am here and I am happy. He is a man of the Watch and in each letter he writes to me he finds himself happy as he could be as that."
Rhaenys nods sharply. "So it is not Jon, either."
It was always 'Jon' or "Cousin" from Rhaenys in private. She knew better than to expect anything else. She doubted Rhaenys could bring herself to call Jon 'brother', even if she wished to one day.
And still, this has gone on long enough. "No, it is not."
"What is it, then?"
"Can a person not be nervous about being married?"
As a girl she asked her mother similar questions.
"Since I was a girl of ten and two it was arranged I was to marry your Uncle Brandon. I knew him. I did not know your father when we married."
"Were you unhappy that you married him and not Uncle Brandon?"
Shame filled her when she saw the way her mother's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Not for long. Your father is an honorable man."
Honorable men do not lie to their wives to cover up another person's dishonor no matter who it was. When she was young they thought they could not hear, she knew the servants at Winterfell would speculate about Jon. If the lie hurt her mother, the truth her father kept from her hurt her such as much.
She draws out a long breath in time to see Rhaenys nod. "Everyone is."
With some incredulity and no small sense of relief in finding another marriage to think about rather than that of her father and mother, she asks, "Even you?"
She could not imagine it. Rhaenys and Lord Willas were devoted to each other. Looking at Rhaenys, however, "You were!"
Rhaenys admits, "I was terrified."
Try as she might prevent it, her face scrunches up. "I don't think I believe you. You and Lord Willas are almost sickening at times."
Even if her expression turns fond, Rhaenys snorts. "You are a fine one to talk the way you and Aegon carry on. Besides you only came to Highgarden after I married. I was relieved Willas did not hate me on sight."
Knowing what she does about the well-mannered heir of Highgarden she cannot imagine his hating Rhaenys. "Why would he hate you? You are a princess."
Rhaenys laughs and in the way she used to so many years ago when they had been girls at Higharden. "Must we speak of this again? People can hate princesses and the only thing not Dornish about me is my name."
Rhaenys was far too bold in many ways. 'Can you imagine? Rather silly a notion for me to be named after that queen. Alas, my name certainly was not my mother's idea.'
Remembering the first time she met Rhaenys, she rolls her eyes. Still, "How could you be terrified?"
Rhaenys shakes her head softly. "You know his injury."
Oft unmentioned, she knew how he received it. Dutifully she recites, "He took in in a duel."
This time Rhaenys rolls her eyes. "My uncle was the one to give it to him."
She nods briskly. She heard that too. "So?"
Rhaenys' lips twitch. "It is bad enough the Dornish and the Reach are consistently at odds. Can you imagine a wife foisted upon you because you think your traditional enemies pity you? Of course I was relieved Willas is one of the best men I know. Still, I am relieved his temperament reflects more of his mother's people rather than his father's."
Her breath caught. There was nothing more she could say to that, especially because she had the same fears or rather the exact opposite. Even if the former Regent or the Princess never acted differently towards her once she learned about Jon's parentage in the infrequent times they returned from Storm's End, she always wondered if their dislike of her father for keeping the secret of Jon's heritage would mean for her.
At the thought, it takes an effort not to let her emotions show.
Though she decided against doing so, she does not know if Father would have broken the betrothal if she desired it. What Father had been thinking agreeing to the betrothal if the possible results of the truth being discovered occurred to him in the first place? He had no answer for why were promises made to Lyanna Stark and Jon's safety more important to him than anyone else's. He claimed fear of reprisal and yet, he went as far to claim even if Aegon's mother and her husband did not do anything others might. Yet, there were enough who knew and did nothing. What fear then? Why the continued lie?
She takes a deep breath. "Why are you here?"
Rhaenys almost looks just as relieved at the change of subject as she does. "Mother wants to see you."
Her eyes widen and she blurts, "The Princess is coming to see me? Why?"
Rhaenys smiles wryly. "At this point, I think you can start calling her 'Mother' as well. I think she might enjoy it. "
She is not opposed to the term, yet, she has her own mother and Elia Martell is an entirely different woman. "What makes you think she wants that?"
"Willas calls her that, as do Mya, Belle, and Gendry."
She opens her mouth only to close it a moment later. "I do not know."
Rhaenys insists, "I am sure she would not mind your calling her that."
Before she could reply there was a knock on the door. "Come in!"
A moment later, her eyes take in the sight of a slender framed woman with a head of dark hair with streaks of gray entering the room. She swallows. Rhaenys certainly had not been lying.
"I hope I am not interrupting something?"
With Rhaenys speaking, she only hopes the too sharp form her curtsey took went unnoticed. "I was just telling Sansa she can call you, 'Mother'."
She nearly gasps in shock. Has Rhaenys gone mad or had her questions about Willas made Rhaenys belligerent?
The older woman snorts. "Daughter, Sansa can call me whatever she wishes, provided it is not some variation of 'hag'. Well, where someone can overhear her, anyway."
While she remains mute, Rhaenys laughs. Despite herself, her breath catches when the princess turns to her. "My dear, as I told you the first time we met, you can call me whatever you are comfortable with."
She can only nod. Hugging her mother, Rhaenys adds slyly. "If my husband can call you Mother, so can my brother's wife."
Her future good-mother grins at her daughter. "I think your husband does it because it annoys his father."
Rhaenys snorts. Then the princess' face slips into a fond expression. "Rhae-"
Another knock and then there is a whirlwind in her room, "Mother! Mother!"
Despite the situation, she tries to pinch her lips trying to stop her laughter as Rhaenys turns to her son. "Baelor, it is not polite to come into someone's rooms without permission, apologize."
The boy turns to her. "Sorry, Aunt Sansa."
She waves his apology away. Even in the situation she found herself in she never could be mad with Highgarden's future heir with the Hightower name and looks, especially not with the way the boy hugs his mother.
She wonders when her own sons, when she has them, will hug her like this. She hopes so.
"What is so important, Baelor?"
"Father misses Mother."
The only thing that stops her from laughing now is his earnest face. Rhaenys however, has no compunctions against it. "Then why is he not here to tell me himself?" Remembering Rhaenys' earlier words she almost chokes.
If possible the boy's face becomes more excited, he was bouncing so much. "Uncle Gendry has swords. Father has one too."
Rhaenys rolled eyes tell Sansa exactly what her friend is thinking. 'Men and their toys'.
Though Lord Willas rarely wields a weapon much, like most men of their ilk even he appreciates a well-made one and it is no secret to her, even without Aegon's comments, Lord Robert's son has a certain aptitude for it.
Her eyes widen in shock when Rhaenys chirps, "Well then, I will leave you two to talk."
Baelor gives his grandmother a kiss and gives her a cheerful wave when Rhaenys nudges her son along.
Once the door shuts behind the pair, though she was angled in such a way she knew the Princess cannot see her, she glares at the closed door. How does a princess born and bred not even try to be subtle?
Nervous as she was, Sansa barely suppresses a cracked laugh. Rhaenys never saw such a need. The look Princess Elia now gives her tells her the same thing. The amiable expression does not set her at ease. While she is rarely in Elia Martell's company and the other woman had not said one unkind word to her, she never quite knows where she stands with Aegon's mother.
Alarm with the prospect of being alone with the Dornishwoman aside, eventually her manners won out and she takes her time to gesture. "Please sit."
When the woman does, she clears her throat. "Rhaenys said you wanted to see me."
She tries not to frown. Rhaenys left the room quickly enough to make it possible.
Elia Martell smiled at her knowingly. "Yes, I did." Before she could ask, the princess holds out the package in her hands. "I would have your opinion on this work of mine."
Why would this woman want her approval? And what work?
Curious, she takes the preferred package.
She opens it to reveal a mass of black velvet cloth. Brows furrowed, she shakes it out only to gasp at the sight of the red dragon embossed in the center of it. Her eyes widen. A cloak; her wedding cloak.
"Do you like it?"
Looking out She stammers out a "Ye-yes." She takes a breath. "It is beautiful." It was. Rich cloth, smooth to the touch. Absolutely beautiful, but, the details…
She knew the Targaryen colors were red and black, but, this was Baratheon black and Martell red. She does not have to ask what it means. Instead she asks different questions.
"What is it like being married?"
For a moment the princess simply looks at her and then, "Certainly Rhaenys and your lady mother have offered their own advice."
She takes a breath. There was nothing for it now. "It is not their son I am marrying."
She will count the incline of the princess' head as a victory though she was unsure if they were engaged in a battle for all that in other circumstances it would have been one. Then, Elia Martell settles back and closes her eyes. "To answer your question marriage can be beautiful and it can be ugly."
She frowns, "Ugly?"
The princess opens her eyes, her expression as serious as Aegon's could be when he was in council. "You know I have been married twice. My first marriage was to a man who I thought I could be happy with only for the world to turn on its head. My second is to a man who I thought the worst of before I married him."
She blurts, "And yet you married him?"
Aegon said his mother's marriage to Robert Baratheon was a happy one, yet, she could never understand it. Then again, what had she known about marriage she learned from watching her father and mother and then later between the various Tyrells at Higharden. The marriage between the Stormlord and the Dornishwoman, what little she saw of it, was like none of those.
She is very perplexed when Elia Martell smiles a bit. "I did, though even his proposal of it left far too much to be desired."
Confused and curious, she ventures, "Was it that bad?"
In response, Elia Martell howls in laughter.
"Marry me?" Of all the things she expected when he 'requested' she dine with him, she was not expecting this.
Her appetite gone, she puts her fork and knife in her plate. She also takes extra time to push it away. "Why?"
He frowns. Then, he grumbles, admitting, "Lannister wants me to marry his daughter. I won't marry the daughter of a man who refused to choose until there was little to no choice."
Oh, of course. Tywin Lannister would be the type and Cersei Lannister had been pretty even as a child. Why this then? All the possibilities buzz in her mind and she still cannot think of a reason which makes sense.
She saw how her hesitation is starting to irritate him. He had not harmed her and she knew he would not, yet, she could not help it. "Even so, why me? You have just said, there will be others happy to give their daughters to you."
He growls, "The lot of them can go to the Seven Hells."
Unbidden her eyes widen and her lips turn downward. Why the vehemence? What does he want? "What do you get from this when I cannot give you neither a child nor love? I am even older than you by some years." She does not want to anger him and yet, she does not trust his motivations at all.
He looks put out, as though he expected the refusal, not the questions. 'No matter', he says before he returns, "You are not so long in the tooth. Besides, your husband took the only woman whose love and children I wanted."
She sits up; her spine now ramrod straight. How dare he? He proposes marriage and he has the gall to throw that in her face! She bares her teeth. "Is it to be some sort of exchange? Let my son have his crown and take me to wife. What is it you truly want?"
He throws his head back and laughs. "You are a funny one, aren't you? 'What I want?'"
He leans forward and despite the table between them it takes everything in her not to move back. "Very well, I will tell you what I want since you want to know so badly: what I want my Lyanna and to have killed Aerys myself. You and I both know he was already dead and nothing will bring my Lyanna back to life. What do I care about taking your boy's crown? I do not want it, and unlike your husband, I am not a thief."
Her lips tighten and her eyes harden at the attempt at a reassuring smile. "You do not have to remind me of what he did, my lord. Do you think it will help your cause whatever it is? Are you trying to prove you are a better man than he was supposed to be?" She does not bother stopping the sneer on her lips.
At his delighted expression she wants to take up the knife she pushed away only a moment ago.
"'Supposed to be'. This is why I consider this in the first place."
Why does he not speak plainly? Despite herself, she nearly growls when he adds, "You are bitter."
"Bitter?" Does he find her situation amusing? Disgusted, she is certain of it.
He smiles. Gods, what she would not do to wipe it from his face.
He sneers, "Do not pretend to hide it, woman. The bitterness and anger towards your husband are there. The three so-called Kingsguard who helped hide my Lyanna away also see it. Where it saddens them, it thrills me. But, I was going to ask you even if I did not see that in you."
He goes on, smirking that ugly smirk, "As to proving myself, I proved I am the better man by besting your precious husband on the battlefield. That was only after he dishonored you just as much he did me by taking my Lyanna to the home of your mother's."
She takes a sip of wine before speaking though all she wants is to fling the glass and its contents in his face.
Damn him! She can take all the time she desires, it will not make his words less true. He knows it too and to combat it all she had were blunt tools. "I had to look away and stay silent once at Harrenhal and once again when my husband did the unthinkable. Even when you fought to reclaim your lady, they say you were in a brothel when Lord Connington searched for you. I know you've frequented the Street of Silk more than once. Why should I marry another man whose mind and gaze will be elsewhere?"
He smirks. "Why would it matter if I remain in your bed or look elsewhere for whatever I desire? I am not asking you to think well of me and at least you know where I stand."
It seems as though it takes nearly everything in him not to grin when she glares at him. She hisses out, "That is not what I meant and you know it."
He rises and walks to stand behind her chair to rest a hand on her shoulder. Though she does not go to shake his hand off, she shivers at his proximity.
"Not so cold a fish." She grimaces. Evidently, the oaf takes her reaction for something else.
Forced to look up at him, she sneers, "Cold or not, fish or not, do not touch me."
He looks down at her. "Aye, not cold or fish at all, and yet, it must have been some time you have been touched by a man."
His face darkens before hers does. She could not have understood his thoughts more clearly if he voiced them: Rhaegar should have touched her more instead of touching his betrothed. Once, she might have thought the same. No longer. After what he put her through and was put through because of him, why would she have wanted anything from Rhaegar? She wants no man to touch her, after all, only Aerys would have thought nothing of touching her this year past.
Thinking of it, she flinches and as if burned, Baratheon quickly drops his hand from her shoulder. Baratheon must have come to the same conclusion.
Now, he looks embarrassed.
'Good', she thinks savagely. He should be.
He hurriedly sits back down and hastily takes a gulp of wine, not looking at her. He takes a deep breath. When he speaks again his voice is suspiciously soft, gentle even. She nearly snorts.
"As I said, Princess, I do not want your son's crown. And if I wanted to keep your children away from you I would have already. I do not want that. I can promise you a good life; one without unpleasant surprises from me."
Is that supposed to placate her? "I believed in promises before. Look where that got me."
Her jaw clenches at how earnest he looks. "There are worse things to be than the Lady of Storm's End. You know because you lived it."
This time she does not bother hiding her disgust or care she might make him angry. "What do you know, let alone of what I lived?"
Now his chin juts out; mulish. "I know you know this place and its people. I know I need a wife who is not a fool. I know you are not one. I also know you will not get a better offer."
She cannot help laughing. How low had she fallen that this is what she had to recommend her? A princess of Dorne and this is the best she can get?
Oh, but, it is true isn't it? Gods…
She sighs, "You are so eager to have me, Lord Robert?"
She shivers again, wondering if the determined look on his face was the last thing Rhaegar saw before he died. She wonders if she will see the same fate no matter how this conversation ends.
"Yes. I would have you at my side, as my wife." He adds, "I mean to be good to you and you children. I swear it."
He has a look on his face which implies patience and good will, but, why bother pretending she has a choice now if she ever did. Baratheon even holds his hand out, palm facing up. A gesture of trust where it does no good.
"Then you shall have me." She sighs again as she places her hand in his all the while trying to think of what that expression of his is supposed to be.
She must look like a proper fool, gaping like she surely was. "That-that is horrible."
Again, that airy laugh. "Oh, I suppose it does seem that way."
Seems that way?
"But, you love him?" What happened between them to allow for this?
She cannot decipher what is behind the princess' smile. "Of him I came to know the best as I did the worst. He learned the same of me. In spite of or because of that, it made all the difference. I only know that I am happy now because of the choices I made then."
Though she knew she should have, she asks the question she never could before, "Why did you and the former regent choose me to be Aegon's bride?"
The other woman's positively wicked countenance is not something she sees often. "There are only so many young ladies worthy of marrying a king and I had already given my daughter to the Tyrells. I also rather enjoy how the elder of my good-brother's thanks me consistently for not giving them more than that."
At her dazed look, the princess laughs again. She thinks there might have been warmth and not mockery in the sound. "Oh, my dear, I jest. We asked for your hand on behalf of my son because you were sure you would make him a fine bride."
There was nothing she could say to that without making herself sound more foolish than she already does do herself.
She tenses when the princess tilts her head. "Is there any reason why we should not have chosen you?"
Distractedly it, occurs to her that it was always "we" again, never simply "I" in the rare times she is in close enough proximity of the princess or former regent to hear them speak of one another. She wonders at it, but, the princess looks expectant. Hesitantly, she starts, "My aunt-"
Not even looking surprised she would mention Aunt Lyanna, Elia finishes, "Is not you."
Her lips pinch. She knew it well enough Arya was the one who looked like Aunt Lyanna, not her. Father said it often. When her father finally admitted the circumstances behind the disappearance of Aunt Lyanna and Jon's birth, in between the surprise and the hurt, it was something of a relief she had more of the Tully look and yet…"If not because I am a Stark, then, why?"
Again that full laugh. Rarely was she alone with the princess and she has heard it more than most. "You, my dear, are proving my point."
Confused, she asks, "What is that?"
"You do not understand."
Looking almost sad, the princess exhales loudly. "Let me explain it a different way. Can you call yourself my good-daughter knowing I might have felt that way?"
Can she? She already knows the answer. She remained here, didn't she? "I would not be here otherwise".
After a moment, the older woman gives her an approving look. "Precisely."
The older woman gives her a reassuring smile. "Perhaps long before you grow to be a mother and at my age you might come to believe that your children deserve nothing but the best. You turned out to be better than I had hoped."
'Better than she hoped?' What did that mean?
After taking a sip of wine, Elia Martell says, "You still do not understand."
She shakes her head. "No."
"Marriage to a Targaryen is not easy, child, much less when you marry with one with a crown. From what I have seen of you I think you are quite up to the task."
"What made me better? That I do not look like a Stark."
She just smiles. "A queen ought to be pretty. You are that. You were pretty as a child even. I will not lie and say it was never a relief you look more like a Tully, however, before I laid an eye on you I knew that my husband had two daughters and a son aside from those I gave him and they take after him. If I love them no less deeply than I do my own, what makes you think the possibility of your looking like a Stark would matter?"
This was an answer; not a complete one.
"I do not want the past to affect my future."
"The past always affect the future, it simply need not affect it negatively." The princess' face is so incredibly solemn even when the words are dismissive.
"My father seemed to think you chose me for a specific reason."
She remembers thinking that he certainly had not thought because they might have liked her…"Did you want to arrange this marriage for revenge?"
At least the arched eyebrow seemed to be one of surprise rather than loathing. "You are an intelligent one to ask. However, when Robert and I chose you gaining revenge through you was not a reason. There are better ways of avenging oneself than binding yourself permanently to those you dislike."
"You do dislike my father." There was nothing she could do if the princess answers in the affirmative even if she could wish the princess would deny it. Of course, if the princess had made such a denial, she could not have believed it.
Thankfully, the princess does not try for any expression approaching being conciliatory. "I do. I doubt he told you when Robert and I ventured to Winterfell when you were naught but a child, one night, your father took me aside."
Father had not. One more thing her father kept secret.
Princess Elia lets her grimace go unmentioned when she reports, "Being at Winterfell was not easy and I felt guilty enough that I saw your grandfather and uncle die and being to anything about it and there your father was offering me condolences on the loss of my husband and "despite their friendship" even apologies for the way Robert had carried on about your aunt. While doing that he deliberately kept the silent of the extent of my husband's dishonorable actions and the disloyalty of those entrusted with the security of my children. That is not something one forgives."
Obviously, not as unaffected as she likes to pretend, the princess pauses to take a sip of wine.
"That is when you learned about Jon."
Perplexedly, the princess' nearly smiles. "It was."
"How?" Father never did offer a possible explanation and she had not asked for one.
When she sets the glass down, the princess says, "At first there was something about his eyes and the shape of his jaw."
"And, yet, you say revenge was not a factor in choosing me to wed Aegon."
The expression on the princess' face almost seems to be reminiscing. "No, not choosing you. You are everything I could want in a good-daughter: kind, pretty, talented, beloved by my sons and my daughters."
Such pretty words she thinks in time to see the princess smirk. "Between us, however, though it should be beneath me, I rather relish not having to pretend as I might with any other girl who could be my son's wife."
"…I came to know the best as I did the worst…It made all the difference."
The princess straightens. "Child, if it is my advice you desire, I say, live the life you have. When you become my age you will have learned who are worth an effort and who are not. Simply know that I have long since thought you are."
Elia Martell rises her. "If that is all, I will take your leave. I think I have taken enough of your time."
Before she exits the room completely, the princess turns back to her, "The truth of the matter is, if I was not sure of you, this wedding would not have happened .I know my son loves you and you love him. You knew the worst of him and of us and you stayed. To me, that is what matters."
Aegon smiles as he slips down to sit next to her, breathing somewhat heavily. "So, how was I?"
Not trying to give any indication of how his closeness affected her, she decides playing coy would be best. "From what I can see your form was perfect."
"I hope you are not just saying that because you are supposed to?"
The tone is light, but, his mother's words still ring in her ears. "When you become my age you will have learned who are worth an effort and who are not."
As if by accident her gaze floated towards Sers Jaime and Arthur were standing at a respectful distance. Ser Jaime was easily gesturing at young Lord Steffon who doubled as his nephew and squire, obviously imparting some lesson related to the scene they just witnessed. Ser Arthur was staring, stone-faced, at the buoyant Lord Baratheon who was sharing a word with Belle's husband, Ser Gerald.
She cannot help her frown. Ser Arthur knew what her father had been hiding.
She once asked Aegon who else knew about his knowing about Jon. Ser Arthur still does not. "There will be no more lies between us. You swore that. I think I should agree to the same."
Before Aegon replies, the Princess's shocked voice rings through the air, "Husband, please do not tell me you were…"
Lord Robert, armor still on, claps Aegon on the shoulder with his large hand before intercepting his wife. "I think that should be obvious." She notices how his eager tone matches his eager gait.
She also sees Mya, who accompanied the princess down to the grounds, sending her own husband equally incredulous looks. Mya rolls her eyes when Lord Guyard smiles sweetly.
The princess' mouth turns downward, "Robert, you cannot be-"
"M'dear, can a man no longer amuse himself?" Nonchalant words and stance aside, Lord Robert lets go of the sword all too easily. She notes neither sons nor good-sons of Lord Robert's, capable at arms as they are, make any move to physically or verbally defend him from his slight-framed wife.
"Watching you injure yourself is hardly my idea of amusement." Despite the words, the princess flattens one hand on the center of his breastplate with the second at his neck, obviously checking for injuries.
Lord Robert only grins that winsome grin, "Have you no faith in me?"
The hand formerly at his neck drops and the princess pokes at the center of his breastplate. "Faith? It is a question of recklessness. You are wearing real armor and those are real weapons."
He bellows a laugh. "What is so reckless? It is all for merriment."
With one look at his wife, Lord Robert cajoles, "Now, woman, you never minded before."
"The last time you sparred with Aegon it was not with the likes of the true steel he carries now. Not only is Gendry's work never dull it is not my son's armor covered in dust and scratches."
She remembered the first time she met Ser Gendry she had not known what to think of Lord Baratheon's son, when Aegon introduced them. It still did not make much sense to her; a son of a lord, base-born or otherwise, with an interest in smiths' work.
"My family is highly unconventional', Aegon had laughed with Gendry laughing with him.
Now she sees it first hand when despite the worry for her husband, there was pride in the princess' voice. Was the pride meant for her son or her husband's? Before Lord Robert replies, Gendry, with lips suspiciously twitching, drapes an arm over the shoulder of his father's wife and says, "Now, Mother, our king was quite gentle".
By the way they sat, Sansa knew the Highgarden heir and his wife were only giving the illusion of being involved in their whispered conversation while their son gazed, wide-eyed, at his 'grandfather', no doubt, anxious about how he'd respond. Though she hadn't turned to confirm it, she could feel Aegon shaking with silent laughter. Elbert lets out a loud snicker he smothers with a not quite guilty look in his growling father's direction.
"Hear that, woman? 'Gentle'! I cannot just let that sort of thing go, can I? One son feels nothing of taking a blade to me without so much as taking a moment to think while the other will say these things with impunity. What have I done to have such sons?"
In response, Princess Elia drops a kiss on Gendry's cheek. In spite of herself, she thought about such scenes in her youth or rather the lack of them. She presses her lips together thinking if her mother had known of Jon's true parentage or that Father had not forbidden her mother from even asking about it perhaps there might have been.
She smothers the thought. It was too late for "what if's". The path they all walk they will walk, be it herself, her mother, or her cousin.
She nearly startles when Prince Viserys appears from somewhere behind Aegon muttering, "Serves him right".
Her eyes widen. Thankfully, by this time Lord Robert has gone some distance away to divest himself of armor and the princess went along with him.
She only registers the Princess Arianne hanging off of the Prince's arm and the white of Renly Baratheon before her betrothed stands to gives him a hearty embrace, "Uncle, I am so glad to see you."
Then, Aegon murmurs, shades lower than his usual timber and a shade too serious, "Please be kind."
The Targaryen prince, with his hand still clapped around Aegon's shoulder, gives the still laughing Lord Robert an annoyed glance. "Nephew, while I love you dearly…"
Because it had been years since the Dornish princess and her consort been in King's Landing and the former Regent and his family left for Storm's End the relationship between Aegon's uncle and his 'father' was rarely discussed.
Because of it she almost tenses when Aegon tries again, "If not for me, then for mother, please?"
"Oh, go on, Vis", prompts Ser Renly, in the voice of a man used to making such pleas.
The prince glances at his former foster brother and then in Princess Elia's direction. His gaze softens in a way Sansa had not seen often, if at all. Turning back to Aegon, Prince Viserys sighs, "For you, Elia, and Rhae". Then, he warns, "Expect no more than that."
Then, the prince glares at the chuckling Lord Renly. "What?"
Still laughing, the younger Baratheon brother snorts, "'More'? If Stannis was here might die shock if the both of you managed anything beyond mild contempt at all. 'More', ha!"
Aegon nudges his uncle's shoulder. "Please, Uncle?"
Princess Arianne pokes her husband in the stomach with an elbow. "My consort should not be making disparaging remarks about my aunt's husband, especially not in front of my cousin's betrothed."
She would start wondering how one achieves a tone so sweet when the words are anything less than innocent, but, she was too busy not breathing when purple eyes, so like and unlike Aegon's, snap towards her as if just now registering her presence.
A moment later her trance is broken when the prince turns back to Aegon to give him a nod. Then, the silver haired prince lets out a long-suffering sigh and gives his wife and a kiss, making Ser Renly laugh. "Alright, alright, I said I would be nice, didn't I? Let's get this done, then."
She keeps her mouth shut tight. 'When did he say he would be nice?' What would even pass for it?
She does not know what to say, let alone what to think when Aegon's mother greets both Prince Viserys and her niece enthusiastically or when Prince Viserys smirks and drapes his arm around the princess's shoulder after Lord Robert drops a kiss to the hand of Princess Arianne and gives a tight jerk of the head in Prince Viserys direction.
After seeing the prince and princess move on to greet Rhaenys and her family she turns back to Aegon. He seems pleased. Ser Renly seemed to be as well.
Evidently, Prince Viserys sharing few words with Lord Robert peaceably was enough to warrant the kisses the dark-haired Sunspear heir gave her husband as the pair made their way back to the keep.
By that time, the Princess Elia and Lord Robert returned to her vicinity. Though the princess gently brushes a hand across a torn part of her husband's tunic, she can hear how the pairs' previous argument began anew. "I always wonder what I did to have such a husband who insists on this sort of foolishness. If aimed deeper, this wouldn't only be torn fabric."
Lord Robert nudges his wife in the shoulder lightly and threaded his fingers through his wife's free hand. "You fret too much. Despite what some seem to think. I am made of sterner stuff than that."
She wonders if the darker tone of the words was due to Prince Viserys. And yet, Princess Elia only snorts. "It is certain your head is made of sterner stuff."
Aegon laughs while Gendry rolls his eyes when in a gentler tone, the princess continues, "You could have hurt yourself."
The look on Aegon's face turns positively sly. "Mother, I am shocked you. All this concern for Father and none for me."
Ser Arthur, she notes, looks stern while Ser Jaime grins at the way Rhaenys sends a look heavenward.
Her gaze flies to Aegon's mother when she replies, "I think you would rather Sansa worry after you."
Before she can even think, the princess continues, "Besides, I have no doubt in my mind no matter who you would come up against, you'd come out victorious and hale. After all, king or not, you are my son."
Perhaps it was the shock which caused her to join in on the peals of laughter which rip out around her when Aegon bows low before his mother before going out to remove his own armor, with his sisters' husbands following to do the same.
"What a fine family I have", Lord Robert grouses as he taps his wife on the shoulder with his large fist. She suspects the lack of force behind the gesture prevents the slender woman being affected by it too much.
"One quite fine." The princess smiles and gives her husband a kiss as she wraps her hands around his waist, causing Elbert to blush. Abruptly, or perhaps not so abruptly, she notes, the princess pulls away from her husband, whispering, "You are covered in far too much dust."
The former regent's face practically pulled into a leer tells Sansa more than she suspects she wants to know of the relationship between the former regent and his wife. "Something you can, no doubt, fix."
Rarely being in the company of the princess and her husband, even without the use of a mirror she knows the color of her face likely matches her hair.
Her shock only increases when in response to the princess' muttering about her husband's 'growing shameless' he only questions her use of 'growing'.
The princess settles into her grinning husband's all the while whispering about setting an example. While Ser Arthur nods in agreement to the princess' words, Ser Jaime none-too-softly mutters, "That ship got lost on its way to Valyria long ago".
Still grinning, Lord Baratheon growls out "Quiet you, Lannister!"
At Ser Jaime's laughter, she can hear the princess whispering something similar to "Acting like children." The only response from Lord Robert is to put an arm around his wife.
Still, not able to reconcile what the princess told her not so long ago, she turns from the sight to see Mya staring at her; the fond amusement was plain on her face.
She starts, "Are they always-" She cannot even finish.
Stifling a laugh, Mya glances in Aegon's direction. When Mya's gaze returns to her, the older woman advises, "The ability to feign deafness and blindness is an admirable skill for a daughter of this house and a queen."
With a grin of her own, Belle chimes in, "Often enough, when having to live with them, one finds such skills not enough."
Rhaenys laughs. "Whatever the case, observing them it truly is the best practice one can get."
As the ladies of her future family collectively laugh all around her once again she wonders what she had gotten herself into.
There was a quick wrap on her door. She opens to see Aegon's shining eyes. "Let me in!"
Surprised, she steps back and he hurriedly closes the door behind him and gives her a kiss. All she can think of is how good he is at this.
When they pull apart, she tries to catch her breath. When she finds she can speak again she blurts, "What are you doing here?"
He smirks, "I live here."
She pokes him in the shoulder and he only laughs. "That's not what I meant. What are you doing here?" For emphasis, she adds, "In my rooms."
He grins at her. "Can't a man want to be with his betrothed?"
She rolls her eyes at him, "Of course you can."
"Then give me another kiss before someone from the Kingsguard or council comes looking for me."
Though she wants nothing more, she argues, "Lord Stannis and Lady Cersei will be here soon. We have to go down to greet them."
He grins. "All the more reason to enjoy our time alone now. There won't be too much of it when the rest of the cabal descends."
While she enjoys the second kiss he gives as much as the first, but, she quips, "You are so shameless."
Unapologetic, he replies, "I come by it honestly."
The scene with the former regent and the princess comes swiftly back to her mind. "I noticed they are quite open with one another. I do not remember them being so during your coronation."
Knowing who she was speaking about, he only smiles. "There were different circumstances then."
"What do you mean?" She asks the question though she already knows the answer.
"They do not hide from family and you are that now", his words and the look on his face say.
As warm as the thought makes her, she cannot help mentioning the other scene she witnessed. "Is that why I saw how clearly Prince Viserys and Lord Baratheon detest each other." She says it thought that is not the question she asks.
Aegon sits down. To her surprise, he shakes his head. "Not as much as you would think."
From what she saw their relationship looked like hatred.
"If they are in a mood to make such admissions, they say they used to argue something fierce, but, that's the extent of it."
"Argue?" What she saw today went beyond arguments or at least how she understood them.
He scratches the side of his face, his expression looks as though he was recalling some memory. Then, her betrothed admits, "Rhaenys did say something about Uncle Viserys kicking Father and Ser Jaime reluctantly informed me Father tried to strike Uncle once."
Her eyes go wide. "What?"
For some reason, Aegon's lips twitch, as if he was waving such things away. "It was years ago. While I recommend leaving it alone, the way Mother and Lord Stannis tell it, remind them of how they embarrassed themselves and their faces turn the most brilliant shade of red."
The look on Aegon's face turns sympathetic. "I would not fret too much about it. They both came to an accord long ago. Besides, for them to be warm to one another would not be right."
She insists, "That did not look like an accord."
He gives her a knowing look. "For them it was."
She presses, "Why were you worried then?"
"Both men grown set in their ways and their words are still sharp."
The smile he gives her is very incredibly warm as he takes her hand. Her face heats. Then he asks, "Did you truly like the wedding cloak?"
She frowns at the odd change of subject, but, she would not lie. "I did."
"Did you truly look at it?" She knew exactly what he was asking.
Her face flushes further. Once again, she answers, "I did."
"My family is not a typical one, it never has been."
She almost laughs. "No one's is." No matter how odd she finds his family, hers is certainly atypical.
His eyes seem brighter. "You are a wise one." He leans in to brushes a lock of hair out of her face. Her eyes flutter shut at his proximity. She takes a breath and opens her eyes again.
"You have met my family over the years, however, this now, you are meeting them as a part of it. It can be overwhelming."
She flushes a bit. She had been nonplussed by it all. "Perhaps so, but, that does not explain why you think your uncle and your father are anything less than sworn enemies."
He bursts out laughing. "You saw through my lousy attempt, did you? Mother had said she agreed with me about how intelligent you are."
Despite smiling at the complement, she pushes at his shoulder and he laughs delightedly. "Alright, it's just that that while they rarely agree on anything, but, there are things for which they do."
"That they love your mother, sister, and you."
There was that warm smile again, "That." Then his smile dips.
"There is more?"
He nods, and rests his head against the back of the settee. "For various reasons, they are not frequently charitable towards my sire."
'Sire'. It was always Sire and never "Father". She has not spoken to hers in years and while most of her letters went to her mother, it was still "Father" for her.
She bites her lip almost regretting pressing the matter, but, since he does not seem angry about it, she ventures, "Lord Robert I understand, but, your uncle?"
Aegon turns to her. His face is so uncommonly grim. "It was no secret how Uncle Viserys was very close to Grandmother Rhaella and he was always fond of my mother. Once I asked him, he said, 'They tried to hide it from me, but, Rhaegar made them cry.' Back when I was a boy the answer had been enough."
She swallows. "There is another one?"
Aegon nods his head. "You remember."
Her eyes widen. "Your uncle knows about those prophesies?"
Now those beautiful eyes glint. "Our family does not lie; not to each other, even if the truths are ugly."
"Does he believe?" After their first fight, Aegon promised her the truth and he told her one that terrified her, but, Prince Viserys is rarely in King's Landing and never near her thoughts.
Aegon shrugs. "Uncle believes it is possible. No Targaryen worth his salt dismisses the chance, but, he'd say, 'Rhaegar couldn't predict his own death. He can hardly be the second coming of Daena, now could he?' Even if he does believe, he finds it all distasteful."
Distasteful? Prince Viserys has a gift of words, that's for certain. "In what way?"
"He says it took him a long time to get over how haughty my sire had been."
"Haughty?" She supposed thinking one's children are a part of a prophecy is being haughty and yet…
Aegon looks distinctly uncomfortable. "When I was old enough to know about well…he'd say, "To start with, Rhaegar should have known better than to touch someone else's woman."
Because it was still very much a difficult subject she was grateful Aegon moves hurriedly along, "Of course, that was not the part that makes Uncle angry. Uncle Viserys used to say, 'I loved my brother and admired him greatly, but, that wood's witch said the Prince that was Promised would come from our parents line. There was nothing which said it be Rhaegar or his get, except in his own mind.'"
She blinked. This she had not expected. "He wanted to be a part of it?"
Aegon smiles. She knows it is a smile he gives when he finds nothing comical. "No one likes to think their family finds it so easy to be dismissive of them; Uncle Viserys is one of those who can take thoughts to extremes. When we became older though, before his wedding, in fact, Uncle admitted to other aspects he found disturbing. 'Rhaegar should have known better. Neither petticoat nor premonition is worth putting us in danger. All he ended up doing was getting himself killed and me beholden to fucking Baratheon for the safety and happiness of my family. His recklessness and false surety nearly ruined us all because he could not leave well enough alone.' I never asked him for elaboration ever again."
Well, that was definitely an answer. "He feels quite strongly about this."
"Uncle is not unique in that regard. Although Mother rarely mentions him these days, I know Rhaenys holds a similar view about our sire."
She whispers. "What about you?"
"I will not lie and say not knowing if Rhaegar Targaryen saw me as his son or some weapon of fate does not sting. The thing of it is, when I have such a good life with a mother and father who loved and guided me, a family I trust, and I am going to marry the woman I love. The only reason he figures into my thoughts at all is that his absence allows it."
"But, what if he was right?" While she does not want to think it, she has to. There had been enough ravens between Aegon and the Maester at the Wall, and even a few to Jon for her not to ignore it. Once Jon wrote back to her, "That makes as much sense as anything else does, from that end at least."
Aegon's eyes glisten. "Even though "if" might become "when", I would not want to walk such a path alone and I do not think I have to."
Live the life you have.
She puts her hand in his, "No, you do not."
