Swan Song of Reflection

by redcristal

BtVS/GoT/Magi: Labyrinth of Magic/Magi: Sinbad no Bouken crossover. Summary: Buffy and Tara died in Sunnydale, shot by Warren. That was not the end as they were being Re-born in Alternative Westeros.-Magi word and GoT world are on the same planet, just try to imagine the size – two Earth sized planet.

14. Weddings, a Funeral and Reunions (Part 1

Chapter Summary:

In part 1: Robb Stark is getting married, Cat is over the moon, Sansa is dreaming about knights and princes'. Jon, formerly Snow, finds out the TRUTH about his parents. King Robert invites Samwell Tarly to sit on the Small Council as a Master of Laws.

Author's notes: This chapter covers years of Buffy's absence from Westerossi shores, to avoid spoilers of what is happening on her end, there will be no Dornish PoV's, because Tara keeps them in the loop, or Myrcella's, except for short Bonus scene at the end of this chapter – the reason for this omission of Myrcella is Yunan, who kept on visiting her on occasion and brought letters from Buffy.

---

Weddings, a Funeral and Reunions (Part 1)

***Catelyn Tully Stark – 2***

Winterfell 299 AC

Catelyn put some more logs on the flame; it was always colder during spring here in the North, even in her own chambers, which was the warmest room in the keep. The middle chamber that she shared with her Lord Husband was even colder because her Ned liked to open windows during morning hours or even during the night when it was the summer. But he granted her this chamber, that was situated above the bakers so the floor was always warm in the mornings, in addition to warm walls.

She marvelled at Winterfell's infrastructure; the very walls of the keep were warmed, somehow, with the hot water from below Winterfell.

She felt a rush of fondness towards her husband – not only did he build her the Sept, but he was considerate of her distaste of the cold.

She knew – or rather, Petyr opened her eyes to the possibility, that the reason Ned was so indulgent of her, was because he felt guilty of fathering a bastard with some woman. A woman that he loved dearly as he decided to raise Snow as a trueborn would be.

At the beginning, the servants and guards of Winterfell whispered of Ashara Dayne, and of the battle that took place with the Sword of the Morning, and it was for the grief of Eddard taking their son, combined by the news that her brother was slain by her lover's hand, that the beautiful Lady Ashara jumped into the sea from the highest tower at Starfall to her death.

There were also whispers that Eddard Stark was forced by her Lord Father to wed Catelyn. She confronted Eddard about that, and the way he looked at her frightened her fiercely.

"Jon is of my Blood. He will be raised befitting the name of a Stark," Ned had said in a cold voice, and then he commanded her that she would not ask him further about boy's mother. And her heart ached at the thought that she was unwanted, and she was so very afraid; the bastard looked more like a Stark while her boy, her sweet Robb, who was born and anointed in the Sept with Seven oils, looked like a Tully. When the boys had grown and the bannermen visited, the boy was often mistaken for Robb.

She was afraid that a boy tainted, as all bastards were, with a lust for power would usurp her sweet Robb's rightful place, and nobody would care! Her handmaidens, and other serfs that came with her from Riverrun, that were picked by her Lord's Father hand, reported to her that bastards were not regarded as a product of sin, as they were elsewhere, but could be given a title; even a female bastard could marry well if she had a Lord for a father. In fact, Celia, Robb's own nursemaid, who travelled with her from Riverrun, reported that a bastard of House Tallhart wed the sole daughter of House Branch. The bastard even took the name of his wife!

He was now named Benjicot Branch instead of his rightful surname – Snow. The Northerners were strange people ... well, she would not have it. She'd make sure that the Snow boy would not rise above his station, above his proper place.

She threw another log on the fire. Yet later it turned out that Jon's blood was not tainted. It was Lady Whent who revealed the truth about Jon, the truth that Jon Snow was not a Snow at all but a true born son of Lady Ashara Dayne by Brandon Stark, the Heir to the Lord of Winterfell. She was shocked when she had it confirmed by Ned, that indeed Jon was the son of his sibling. And that Brandon was indeed wed to Lady Ashara.

Upon Catelyn's return to Winterfell, she shared the truth of the boy's origin to the good Septa. After all the boy would have to know the Seven since he would hold an important position.

Septa Mordane said that it was the Will of the Seven that Catelyn's children wouldn't be betrayed by that wicked boy.

Her Lord Father was partly appeased, and he added some land to Harrenhal – though she suspected that that was more so that Jon Stark, no he was now Lord Jon Vermilion of Harrenhal, would not be tempted to demand Winterfell. There was some change done by King Robert when he found out that Jon was legitimate, and she shuddered to think what they said about her at court; after all, she was a Lord Paramount's oldest daughter that was jilted in favour of a Dornish house. The King made an amendment, and he added Stark to the Vermilion, to honour late Lord Brandon, and now Jon was of the House Vermilion-Stark.

She wrote that first letter to Petyr after her hopes for a Southern wife for her sweet Robb were dashed by Ned and Maester Luwin betrothing Robb to Mira Forrester and Jon being legitimized and set to wed Princess Elenei Baratheon. To find out more, and to make sure that her Robb, and all the children she had beard and would bear to her Lord Husband, would receive their due to them as scions of House Stark and House Tully, she wrote to her friend from childhood, Lord Baelish, and her sister Lysa. She inquired if there was a possibility of a match with her sweet Bran and one of the Princesses, Princess Myrcella or Princess Robara, or perhaps the King would deem that Sansa was to wed Prince Joffrey. Lysa wrote back, and so did Petyr.

Lysa's letter was full of reproachful words and was not particularly to Catelyn's liking. First Lysa reprimanded Catelyn of not writing to her for years which was not a fair accusation as Lysa hadn't written to her either. The barb of Catelyn writing to Lysa only when she wanted something, and that was the only reason why Catelyn remembered that her younger sister made her furious. Her House words were Family, Duty, Honor – but Lysa was always full of whimsy and was easily offended. Which Lysa confirmed in her own words committed to the parchment, refusing to talk of anything regarding what Catelyn wanted to know, just like she refused any contact with their Lord Father. Lysa also had the gall to remind Catelyn that she herself had two healthy daughters and for Cat to ask for a Royal Match and to snub the daughters of the Hand of the King was beyond rude.

Catelyn wrote back that normally she would not oppose a match between one of Lysa's daughters. The Tullys and Starks already had links to House Arryn through Lysa's marriage to Lord Jon Arryn and through Cat's own marriage, and she would have agreed to the match, if not for her Lord Husband's bastard that would wed a Princess Royal. Her little sister refused to even consider bringing the suggestion to her husband … and refused to see that as a legitimized bastard, Jon Snow could usurp her own blood's and Lysa's nephews and nieces rightful place. Catelyn could not understand why Lysa believed that there was no danger.

The missive that she received then was delivered by a raven, and it bore only two sentences: 'If your son's place is not secure, that is not the bastard's doing. It's the person's that heaps the blame on an innocent child.'

Lysa had changed; Cat could not imagine what could make her younger sister so jaded towards herself and their Lord Father. Seeking answers, she sent inquiries to her father, the Lord of Riverrun, to her little brother Edmure, and to uncle Brynden that lived in the Vale and served as a Knight of the Bloody Gate to guard the entry to the Vale of Arryn.

From Petyr however she received much more forthcoming news. One exchanging of letters became two and then ten and on it went. He spoke of Prince Joffrey, and Cat was warmed by the idea of a match between her sweet, eldest daughter and the Heir to the Iron Throne. She told Petyr how alike Sansa was to her, of her grace and accomplishments as a lady; she wrote him that she followed the Seven, and not the Old Gods. Sansa was her only child that came to the Sept with Catelyn to pray with her, Septa Mordane, and the servants she brought from Riverrun.

She recalled the words she sent to Petyr about her daughter in that first letter:

'Sansa was a lady at three, and she is always so courteous and eager to please. She loves nothing so well as tales of knightly valour and of dashing princes rescuing their Ladies. Many here would say she has my looks, but I can see that she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was. Petyr, you will see it when we come to the capital.

I often send her maid away so I can brush her hair myself. She has auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft that the red in it catches the light of the torches and shines like copper. Her eyes are different than mine as well, the colour of a summer sky – the hue that is so familiar to us – remember how we used to be, Petyr, I miss those days of ours at Riverrun. I miss the warm sun on my face and the warmth of the summers we spent together.

Also, Petyr, what did you mean with the words about Jon, my nephew, usurping Robb's inheritance and seat? He is the Lord of Harrenhal and engaged to be wed to the Royal Family, which will grant him similar prestige and income as Lord Paramount.'

Catelyn looked from the letter and leaned back in her padded chair, watching the fire burn the wood and warm her room. She was the Lady Stark, wife of Lord Paramount in the North, and while she hadn't wed the Stark she wanted – her life was good.

She learned to respect and love her husband – who was the polar opposite of his elder brother Brandon.

Lady Lyanna and Lord Brandon came and stayed at Riverrun after it was decided by Lord Richard that the betrothal between his only daughter and Lord Robert Baratheon would be next year, and Lady Whent offered to help Lyanna adjust to the life of a Southern Lady. Cat still remembered his smile, and how dashing he seemed that day at Riverrun when he came with his Lord Father and his sister.

It was then that little Petyr challenged Brandon to a duel for her hand in marriage. She always found it endearing when he trailed after her, as Lysa trailed after Petyr. They were like little ducklings trailing after her. And yes they played a kissing game when nobody was watching; she hadn't had an inkling that Petyr carried such strong feelings for her. Not that he was the appropriate groom for the eldest daughter of a Lord Paramount.

Lord Brandon Stark was a dashing, young Lord, who was heir to the Lord Paramount; he was one of the rare, suitable matches that a high born Lady could land. Jaime Lannister was the other opinion, something that her Lord Father was working on; he was in talks with Tywin to wed Lysa to Ser Jaime. While Lord Brandon's brother, whom she hadn't heard about much, was being fostered in the Vale.

Cat didn't see much of Lyanna Stark – she knew that she went on long rides out into the Riverlands, sometimes all the way to Harrenhal to call on Lady Whent, and that she'd talk a lot to Uncle Brynden, but hadn't joined the sewing circle with Catelyn and Lysa much. And she knew even least of Benjen Stark, the youngest brother, who was staying at Winterfell with Lord Rickard Stark.

When Petyr challenged Brandon, the dashing Northerner laughed and refused at first, but Petyr insisted on the duel. In the end, Brandon removed most of his armour and agreed on the fight.

Then Petyr was injured and shipped back to his keep; she didn't hear from him before – or rather Petyr sent her a letter, when she was still at Riverrun, but for the wedded and bedded wife of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, it was improper to receive correspondence from an unmarried man, and so when she received her letter from Petyr, she threw it away ... she wondered what he wrote in there. She had been too embarrassed to admit that she had thrown away the letter so she pretended that she never received it, in hopes that Petyr would have written what he had written before again – he never did.

The second letter she wrote contained the truth of Jon's origin, the letter she sent from Riverrun after talking to the Septon about it; she wanted Petyr to know; she wanted to share this bit of good news with her friend from childhood. As before Petyr was quick in his reply, and she felt a pang of guilt for throwing his first letter away without reading it. Petyr reply to her second letter was that he was glad to hear of that she did not need to worry about the bastard's taint and expressed a wish that her fears of a usurping from Jon would not come to pass.

She wrote back asking what he meant by that, as Jon had a large keep and the land surrounding it was greatly enlarged by her own Lord Father and the Crown, as part of Princess Elenei's dowry was paid in unclaimed lands Harrenhal bordered with and now ... she hoped that Petyr's response to that letter would be quick.

"Lady Stark!" a maid called as she rapped at her doors. "The runner just delivered a letter meant for you, My Lady."

"I'll be right there, Neena," Cat called, then she stood and hurried to the door, opening it to receive the letter. The servant girl curtsied and Catelyn closed the door on her and bolted it; she didn't want to be disturbed while reading Petyr's letter. Turning the parcel around, she saw that there was a letter from Petyr, her uncle, and her brother, and even her Lord Father. She decided to read Petyr's letter first; she was starved for information from King's Landing.

'Dearest Cat,' she read Petyr's sloping writing, neat and thin words that painted the expensive paper. It was of high quality and Catelyn was glad that Petyr was doing so well.

'The search for Princess Elenei was called off, and after all these years, it is to be expected to presume her lost to the sea, and the only one who scoffs at that notion is Princess Myrcella – the sweet summer child, such faith in her elder sister.'

Catelyn expected this news; it had been coming for a while and she never made too much out of the strange telling of Ned, after he came back.

The King's forces interrogated the crews that were captured in the Stormlands. Lord Estermont himself, the King's own Lord Grandfather, managed to pull sixty Ironborn men out of the bay waters … they were only normal sailors and second sons of minor Iron Island Houses. Euron Greyjoy was nowhere to be found, as Ned found out from the captured men. Euron had sailed his ship of mutes, aptly named Silence, to the Sunset Sea. Ned said that he probably wanted to escape justice – and King Robert put out the reward of bringing him back dead or alive. If they found and bring them, Euron Greyjoy would be beheaded.

Aeron Greyjoy, the youngest of the Greyjoy brothers, surrendered and was given a choice from King Robert – the Wall or Exile for life. The man chose Exile – the reports said that he created a sellsword company, that could operate on land and sea, in Essos. The company was called The Partyman Company. Before he sailed, he told Ned some story that Princess Elenei, with her Dornish Lady in Waiting, Lady Brienne of Tarth, and the Bolton's heir sailed in some odd ship that flew into the distance over their heads.

Victarion Greyjoy, as far as Catelyn was aware, was freed when he bent the knee along with his elder brother Balon – who was allowed to stay the Lord of the Iron Islands, but all his surviving children were taken as hostages.

Theon Greyjoy was sent to the Vale. To be the ward, a hostage, to House Royce of the Gates of the Moon. Sometimes she wondered how the lad was doing; she heard from the Septa as a young girl that Ironborn could not abide being so far away from the sea.

Asha Greyjoy was living with them since Ned brought her to their home. Catelyn did not appreciate the girl who spat on everything Cat held dear to her heart –also she made sure that Arya was not around her – which was the reason why she agreed to foster her daughter to Bear Island. She was certain that Arya would learn to be the lady there – after all, one of Lady Mormont's daughters was Lady in Waiting to the Princesses.

Septa Mordane was trying, unsuccessfully, to civilize the Ironislander, to bring Lady Asha Greyjoy to the Light of the Seven, but Lady Asha was a rude, uncouth savage, even with years of affords on her and Septa Mordane's part. The girl clung to her ways and the Drowned God the more they tried to teach her the true faith.

Yara Greyjoy was sent to Dorne, to the house that was known to be mad – House Uller. Catelyn was not very fond of the Dornish, not only did a Dornishwoman take her Brandon, the man she was to marry, but she bore him a son that looked like a Stark. Ashara Dayne left almost no mark on Jon Sn-Vermilion, with the exception of his Rhoynar curls and the tinge of purple in his grey eyes. He was also of a prettier face than her Robb – a fact that stabbed her in the heart when she beheld the Lord of Harrenhal when he rode with his friends to visit his Uncle and cousins on the day just like this one, two years past.

Soon after Jon's arrival, her darling Robb hadn't set foot in Sept. When she took him to the task, aided by the Septon and Septa, Robb rebuked all three of them saying he was of the North, like his Lord Father. Bran and Arya were the same, and the twins were merely four summers old. And if she wasn't mistaken, she was with child again; she'd go to Maester Luwin to confirm it first, and then she'd inform Ned.

Shaking her head at the image the thought of another child had conjured, she bent over Petyr's letter.

'I am obligated to inform you that Jon Vermilion-Stark arrived at the Red Keep and struck a friendship with the Master of Laws, Lord Samwell Tarly, and Lord Tyrion Lannister, who returned to the capital to resume his duties. Not only that but your nephew managed to secure a place of squire to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for himself and he spars regularly with the Queen's brother, Jaime Lannister. I retain secret information; it is what you suspected, dear Cat. Because Princess Elenei is presumed dead or lost, Princess Myrcella Baratheon will take her place and wed the Lord of Harrenhal. There is also talk of betrothal between Prince Tommen and Lady Shireen Baratheon ...the King is inclined to agree to that match, especially since it appears that Lord Stannis will not have any more children. However, I think that King Robert deeply misses your husband; perchance could you implore him to visit King's Landing with you; your eldest is old enough to be left alone managing Winterfell, is he not?' she read next. She looked up from the words, deep in thought.

Jon was making alliances with the Reach and the Westerlands. That could mean he was forging alliances with the Lord Paramount, and if, as it was custom since Princess Elenei was declared lost, the next in line to wed him was Princess Myrcella and that would mean Royal Support.

What's to stop her husband's nephew for arranging accidents to befall her son? Nothing but Ned's belief, something that her sweet son Robb shared, that Jon would never do such a thing.

But he could; Catelyn knew that with the might of the Reach and the Lannisters and wed to a Princess Royal, he could claim Winterfell as his own. There was also that as the only legitimate son, of the previous heir, Jon Vermilion-Stark would be within the right to inherit before Robb. The only reason why that wasn't so was that Ned was not aware of the documents that showed that Brandon Stark, Heir of Winterfell, had wed Lady Ashara Dayne of Starfall and the fact that the King legitimized him while Jon was perceived as a bastard of Eddard Stark.

Perhaps she could leave to King's Landing, with Ned and their Sansa and Bran. She was loath to part with her favourite son, but any travels would have to be postponed until she if she was indeed with child, gave birth to another wolf.

Perhaps the King would declare Sansa and Prince Joffrey's betrothal – and her Bran always dreamed of becoming a knight. She'd write to Uncle Brynden if he'd take on her sweet boy as his squire.

Catelyn looked back to the letter. 'As for your inquiry as to why Lord Vermilion would want what is rightfully his, since he is the son of Brandon Stark, it might be because he lived so long under the impression of being a bastard. He might have, unfortunately, learned and adapted their grasping, greedy nature.'

She stilled, that was her greatest fear – that the taint seeped into his being, regardless of him being legitimate, and now he became friends with the Heir to the Rock, Tyrion Lannister, and the Kingslayer. Petyr warned her all the time about the Lannister's ambition, and Tywin Lannister had a reputation of being an ambitious man – in one of the letters, Petyr alluded to the Old Lion wanting the office of the Hand of the King; he expressed the fear of Jon Arryn suddenly dying. But surely it must be enough for Tywin that his son worked so closely to the Hand of the King? That his daughter was the Queen and the mother of a future King of the Seven Kingdoms, a Prince that was his grandson? That his granddaughter was to wed Lord of Harrenhal?

'Sweet Cat, I hope that my words did not cause you to worry, and if they did, know that you will always have my support. Sincerely Yours, Petyr.'

Catelyn rubbed her eyes. "Oh Petyr, thank you for your friendship," she whispered and then put the letter with the others that she had received from her dearest friend. She then turned her attention to the letters from her family ...

Her firstborn son's wedding would be in four moons time, a day after her twins would have their fourth name day celebration.

Catelyn felt very much blessed – she was a mother of four strong lads, three had her Tully looks – red haired and blue eyes while Jonnel had brown hair and grey eyes of the Starks. She claimed three beautiful daughters to her accomplishment, Sansa, Arya – who would come for her brother's wedding from Bear Island with the rest of Mormonts, and Jonnela, twin sister of Jonnel.

Suddenly the door opened and her Lord Husband entered holding a stack of letters.

"Cat!" Ned shouted; she could see that he was pleased with a missive that he was holding in his hand. In a couple of long strides, he caught up to her.

"All bannermen will send someone to Robb's wedding, and Jon will come as well. In addition, the Royal Family will set out from King's Landing; they will arrive on the fifth day of the wedding."

"It will be a great honour to host the Royal Family," Catelyn said, then after a bit continued, "Perhaps when the time comes you and I should travel to another wedding – a Royal Wedding since our son is old enough to be a Stark in Winterfell."

And Jon – her husband's nephew, it still bothered her, even with knowing that the boy was not a bastard but the legitimate child of Brandon Stark and Lady Ashara. After her shock at that had subsided the new fears festered within her.

The other unease came from Lord Roose Bolton and Lady Barbrey Dustin; they appeared to have joined forces after Roose wed Ned's cousin from the Stormlands.

The new Lady of Dreadfort, Lady Lynara of House Rogers from Stormlands. Even her Ned looked uneasy; after all Lady Lynara looked a lot like the long deceased Lyanna Stark, except her face was rounder, and her eyes were green.

Cat, however, resented Lady Bolton's personal coat of arms – quartered sigils of House Stark, as Brenda Stark, cousin of Ned who married Harrold Rogers, the sigil of House Rogers being nine silver unicorns around a silver maze on a black field, then her Lord Husband's coat of arms, and lastly a silver unicorn head on the pink field - just as Lady Dustin irritated her, Lady Maege Mormont scandalized her. If not for Asha Greyjoy stay in Winterfell, and Lady Maege's daughter serving as Lady in Waiting to the Royal family, Arya would never have been fostered with them.

They would all attend her sweet boy's wedding to Lady Mira Forrester. How she wished Robb would marry Margaery Tyrell, forging the alliance to the Reach. Now that would have been a match worthy of her son – if he could not have secured a bride from the Royal House that was.

***Robb's Wedding***

Catelyn knew that weddings in the North took a while, but then Maester Luwin and Old Nan enlightened her that for well to do smallfolk a wedding lasted a day, for a Lord and Lady at least for two days, but for Robb, who was heir of Winterfell, the wedding would last as long as a week.

Her own wedding was done in a couple of hours – Eddard Stark rode to Riverrun, and then they wed in Sept and that was it. They spent two nights together and then Lord Eddard Stark rode to war. She stayed at Riverrun, and moons later she had given birth to Robb – she named him in the Sept in the Holy Light of the Seven.

Now Jon Snow – even now that she knew the truth of his parentage and knew that he was legitimate, she couldn't bring herself to think of him in that way. There was a small, short-lived relief when she found out that Ned, a husband she did not want, didn't love or know – but had grown to respect and grew to care for never betrayed her and had never fathered a bastard.

But it was Brandon Stark – the handsome, dashing older brother that turned his back on her, the daughter of the Lord Paramount of Riverlands, to marry a Dornishwoman from the lower nobility of all people. She felt slighted! Not to mention now that the offspring of that same Dornishwoman was poisoning her own son against her.

She just knew that it was that woman, who stole her intended, whispering into her sweet boy's ear and now her sweet Robb wanted to wed that Forrester girl in the Old Gods' way and not in the Light of the Seven like he should.

And now she had to appease the Holy Septon and Septa Mordane, who were only worried about saving souls...

"Lady Stark, it is outrageous." Both Septa and Septon stood before her, their faces red in outrage.

"I'm sorry, Septa Mordane, Septon Benett," she turned to the Septon, who faithfully served in her little Sept since it was built, "but Robb decided to hold the entire ceremony in the faith of the Old Gods."

No matter how much she pleaded with him to wed the Forrester girl in the Light of the Seven, he was adamant that as they were in the North and his bride was a Northerner and that he was the future Lord of Winterfell, the wedding would be of the North as well.

"But My Lady!"

"I'll talk to my son again," Catelyn said, but before she could begin on her promise to Septa and Septon.

"I believe I expressed my wishes on this very well," her son's voice held them all in place. Then they turned and there were her son and Jon. And her sweet Bran – her heart squeezed in pain as she observed how he clung to Jon. He was blind and he blindly trusted Jon Vermilion-Stark; the sight only made Catelyn more afraid.

She knew that this was all Jon's fault, especially Robb's defiance of the Seven – just as Petyr warned her, the boy wanted it all. And being the legitimate son of the previous Heir of Winterfell he had a chance. Catelyn would take a knife to the heart first rather than allow that to happen to her Robb.

"Robb," Catelyn admonished.

"Young Master, you must marry in the Light of the Seven!" exclaimed the Septon.

They were drawing a crowd...of bannermen; they were all watching intently. Catelyn draw herself to her full height – she must make Robb see reason.

"Septon, I will not marry in Sept," Robb said with a clear voice that rang across the yard, like a bell from the Sept.

"My Lord Father and Lady Mother married in Sept because it was wartime and deemed their marriage done. My wedding in the Godswood in the Old Way is just as valid; in fact, Septon, the Sept only exists because of the love my Lord Father bears toward my Lady Mother. But I am a Northerner and a Stark; my way is the Old Way," he declared loud and clear, and then turned on his heal and marched toward the assembled bannermen.

Catelyn wanted to call to him; what was he doing – how can Robb... this was all Jon Snow's fault … and she silently cursed the boy when her blue eyes briefly meet his dark ones, and then something strange happened. The bannermen swarmed around Robb, laughing and clapping his forearm or patting his back.

She would never understand the way of her husband's people.

***Robb Stark -1***

His wedding day arrived, and he was glad that Mira and he met and spent a lot of time together after she returned to the North from King's Landing, where she served as Maid in Waiting for the two Baratheon Princesses. This way he was not a wedding a stranger, but a good friend. Somebody he cared about and trusted, and all right he liked her in that way as well.

After the two-month preparation and finding out what traditions there were for a wedding between the Heir of the North and a Lady of the North. Robb asked Old Nan to write a letter to his Uncle Benjen and wrote an inquiry letter to his kin, the Flints from the mountains – his grandmother's family was glad to share and help with his wedding before the Old Gods.

Another thing Jon pointed out to him was that his Lady Mother and Lord Father wed before the New Gods, and they did not have a wedding before the Old Gods later either. Mostly because there had not been time – and some bannermen could use that to point out that Robb was not a legitimate heir. So being wed only in the Old Way granted credibility to his rule.

Robb felt unsettled using this against his mother, but if he wanted to rule the North, and not lose the respect and love of his bannermen, he would have to be less of the South and more of the North. She was offended and hurt, and Father had become quiet – later he heard his father telling his mother and Maester Luwin that he never thought of it, but it was correct. What was more, Maester Luwin brought out the marriage contract that was signed between Rickard Stark and Hoster Tully – it specifically stated that Catelyn could worship whatever Gods she deemed fit, but her children would be raised in the Old Way.

His Lord Father forbid mother and Maester Luwin from mentioning this anywhere, and when Robb confronted them, his Lord Father said that the Sept was built for mother and he was unaware of the stipulation in that contract.

Robb decided then and there that he would somehow make sure that the Sept would be removed from the courtyard and have a greenhouse built in its place. The Sept would be moved to the spacious room that was near mother's solar – the room the Septa used for teaching Sansa and Arya, even four summers old Jonnela joined them in the lessons now. That and perhaps to balance the Southern influence on his sisters; he could make an inquiry about some old Northerner Lady that was a widow or never wed to teach the Northern old ways.

Unfortunately for him to do it, he'd have to be in charge of Winterfell. But that might come now that he was wed, and Lady Mother mentioning with some frequency to Lord Father, that she'd like to introduce Sansa to the court … and propose a match between Sansa and Prince Joffrey.

Speaking of his dear sister, she was taking dainty steps, and her head held high, her blue and grey woollen gown held in her hand, and in the other was a bundle of cloth, walking just as he saw Septa Mordane teach her when she was a small child of four.

"Sansa," he greeted her, his three years younger sister. At thirteen she was said to be the fairest maiden, with eyes the colour of Winter Roses, and hair the colour of the heart tree. It was Jon who coined this description and who talked to both Robb and Sansa – Sansa was sceptical then and she still was now; however, she did amend some of her behaviour towards Arya. She even took more to ride on the hunts – much to their mother's distress. She was still the only Stark born child that prayed to the Seven at the Sept. Robb and his younger siblings, especially Arya and Bran, started to follow their Lord Father to the Godswood. Bran was more enthused in praying at the Godswood when he found out about the Bolton's Heir, Domeric – no Ser Domeric Bolton was anointed Knight and a follower of Old Gods, something their Lady Mother said was impossible. Conceitedly she was wroth when Jon told Bran that that wasn't so. As she was wroth with Jon for opening Robb's eyes – that he had to work to win his future bannermen. They respected his Lord Father – but that was mostly because there was no alternative; Uncle Ben was at the Wall; Uncle Brandon and Aunt Lyanna were dead.

When he made his own inquiries, at Jon's prompting, his brother was still observant, there was some unease among the people that the Starks were becoming more Southern and the Sept being erected on Winterfell's soil was regarded with suspicion, unease, and in some cases hatred. To find out why such reactions existed, Robb and Jon went through the library at Winterfell – it was not a surprise that Jon found the books they were looking for – for before he became a Lord, Jon often hid in the library. Robb wouldn't be surprised if his brother didn't read every book there was since when he came to visit he sometimes could be found with Maester Luwin.

"Robb, I finished stitching the two Rushnyks for your wedding." She then proceeded to unravel the cloth bundle. First, there was the rectangular shaped hemp made rug, that had embodied northerner knots, and images of wirewood trees.

This was called pidnozhnyk – or to translate to the common tongue, the Step-on-Towel, and it would be on this that Mira and he would stand when saying their vows under the Heart tree. Then there was a palm wide piece of white linen, were embroidered in red thread with Sansa's delicate hand were diamond shaped designs – which the Old Nan said was an old agricultural symbol. At the centre of the cloth was a pair of ducks holding a heart between them – symbolizing a bride and a groom. This piece would be used for handfasting.

"You did good work," Robb praised her. He knew that she felt unease doing the Northerner style of knotting and sewing embroidery. As it wasn't so elegant as those of the South, and both Septa Mordane and their Lady Mother deemed it too plebeian for a good bred Lady of the Great House.

As for the cloak that he would drape Mira with, his Lady Mother started sewing it long before he was engaged to be married. Robb knew that his Lady Mother was not happy that he'd wed a daughter of a minor bannerman; she'd rather see him wed a daughter from a Southern House.

It was not until he had that lengthly conversation with Jon, two years ago, when Jon had ridden from Harrenhal to celebrate Robb's nameday.

Winterfell 297

It was Robb's four and ten nameday celebration, and Jon, no matter who his parents were, would always be his brother, a twin almost. At the moment they were sitting in the Godswood reminiscing about the prank they pulled the last time Jon was visiting.

"It's been a while since we were all like this – remember, when before you left, we played a prank on the girls and Bran?"

At that time Jonnel and Jonnela could not walk well yet, so Bran was the youngest child, the baby of the family. Bran loved to hear scary stories from the Old Nan, and Arya liked to toss with monsters and Lady Ursa Mormont.

So on the day before Jon would ride back to Harrenhal with his retinue of knights and pages, they decided to play a prank on their younger siblings.

In the crypts, Robb was to lead them there, and Jon was hidden with a white sheet thrown over him, and his face and hair painted white with flour.

Bran hid his face in Robb's pants, Sansa ran away shrieking, Arya started to throw things – and missed at Jon, while Asha went still and white as a sheet. After Jon revealed himself, Arya laughed and punched the both of them; Bran pretended that he knew all along, they let him and Asha Greyjoy ...

Jon laughed, "I remember how Asha nearly broke your nose after," he remarked amid his mirth. The ass his brother was, he found that funny. Robb had a suspicion that his kind of girl would be the likes of a Warrior Queen like a Queen Visenya Targaryen or Queen Nymeria of the Rhoyne.

"She didn't come close!" Robb exclaimed, indignant.

Jon shrugged and leaned back against the old willow tree that was a stone throw away from the Heart tree – in fact, they could see the carved face of the heart-tree from here. "So you claim," then slate grey meet light blue, "you wanted to talk in private?"

"Ahh yes, I was talking with Mira ..." then Robb sighed, "she wants to marry in the Old Way, and not in Sept."

He was fond of Mira, and he knew her since they were children. She visited Winterfell every week and stayed there and when she travelled to King's Landing and became Maid in Waiting to the two Princesses, they exchanged letters. If Jon was his best friend, then Mira was his friend and so getting married to his other friend wasn't a chore in the slightest.

"Well, brother," Jon said after a small spell of silence, "both you and your bride are of the North. Even I pray in the Godswood, and my Lord's seat is in the South, speaking of my lordship..." here Jon paused and grimaced, "the King sent another decree, since I'll become his godson, I was named, or rather the Lord of Harrenhal is now called the Lord Paramount of Crownlands."

Robb gave his brother a surprised look; he wasn't aware that Jon became Lord Paramount. "So what are you called? Father is called Warden of the North, and Tywin Lannister is called Shield of Lannisport, grandfather is called Lord Paramount of the Trident, Lord Tyrell is called Defender of the Marches. I don't think that the Great House of the Stormlands has another title than Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"No, it's the only region that has only one epithet. And you are forgetting Dorne, brother," Jon prompted, and Robb rolled his eyes.

"Ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne and Lord of Sunspear." he nudged Jon with his elbow."Well?"

Jon breathed a deep suffering sigh. Oh, this would be good, Robb mentally crowed.

"Did you know that for my title they had to dig through history since I'm not exactly of equal standing with a Lord Paramount, but perhaps half a step-down? The Maester's finally found the title in the old records, dating back before Targaryens came to Westeros."

"And..." Robb prompted his brother yet again; he nudged his brooding brother/cousin with his foot for good measure.

"Archduke of Harrenhal," came the answer, finally. "The title was usually reserved for primary Houses just below in the Storm King's kingdom."

Then Jon paused, "While I was looking up, just where the Maester found this title, I also discovered some books that dealt with the history of the North."

"Of course you did," Robb muttered.

Jon huffed a laugh, "Is that so strange?"

Considering Jon was better at letters and sums when they were learning them, it was not that much of surprise, was it. He also hid either in the library with Maester Luwin or at the armoury practising his arms, the two places where Robb's Lady Mother disapproving stare didn't reach Jon.

"Anyway, there was some account, on the Isle of Faces, with the Greenmen, of how the Andal invasion went."

"They didn't come North," Robb pointed out.

"There was no Sept built ever in the North," Jon said quietly, "the Stark's were defenders of the Old Gods as surely as the King of Westeros is the defender of the Andals, Roynar and the First Men."

Robb felt cold settle in the pit of his stomach when he saw the worry in his brother's eyes. The worry Robb understood immediately, and he wondered how did his Lord Father miss this.

"You know how many second sons or farmers in the North went to live at Harrenhal lands? I sometimes go out to talk with them, and I hear whispers that, well, people are not happy with a Sept at the heart of the North. And that is to put it lightly, Robb."

Robb took Jon's words and mulled them over, then decided to have a talk with his Lord Father and Maester Luwin.

"All right," Robb said, "I will ask father."

Jon gave him a grimace.

"What?"

"When I was … asking him again of my mother yesterday, he said when I was older. How much older does he think I will have to be for him to say my mother's name? I don't know if she is dead or alive, Robb."

"Weren't Uncle Brandon and Lady Ashara your parents?"

Jon huffed an irritated breath, "This doesn't go any further. Lady Whent told me, that while Uncle Brandon and Ashara did wed, I am not their son, and that I need to hear my Lady Mother's story from Lord Stark himself. Father confirmed it when I confronted him but refused to divulge anything else. He also swore me to secrecy."

"Maybe he is worried about my Mother's reaction?" Robb suggested.

"What, does your Mother think that I'll take Winterfell from you? Logistically I cannot be in two keeps at the same time." Jon shook his head. "And why so much secrecy around my Mother's name?"

Robb sighed, his Lady Mother was always unreasonable when it came to Jon. One would think that the revelation that he was not a bastard of Lord Father but a true born son of Uncle Brandon– except now Robb found out that Uncle Brandon wasn't Jon's father... who would think that his brother's origins were so complicated and shrouded in mystery would have settled his Lady Mother's mind.

"Perhaps ..." Robb trailed off, "your mother is somebody who's name is dangerous to know..." he suggested.

"And who could that possibly be; Father is Lord Paramount!" Jon gave him a look that was half inpatient and half peevish. Robb could understand Jon's impatience and frustration as Eddard Stark evaded talking about who Jon's mother was since Jon was a babe.

"A Targaryen perhaps," Robb joked, while Jon stilled and suddenly he was met with a wide-eyed stare of his brother/twin/cousin/friend – all that and more.

"What?" Jon yelped and whirled around to meet Robb's startled river blue eyes.

Robb was bemused at the sudden sharp look that settled on Jon's features, then as suddenly as that the expression appeared, his features took a neutral cast.

"There were no female Targaryens at that time; there was only Queen Rhaella. And there are more pressing matters than my origins … besides Lady Whent also told me that if Lord Stark won't tell me till next summer, she will."

"All right, I assume that you wanted to tell me something else."

"Aye, the fact is Lord Stark doesn't like to … " Jon paused there, "it's like he doesn't trust us. You are his Heir; did he take you to listen in on meetings with his bannermen – or include you in running the North?"

"No. Ser Rodrick trains me in arms, and Luwin takes care of other lessons." Robb frowned; how could he be sure that his Lord Father wouldn't just dismiss his concerns and send him away? "Do you have some suggestions?"

"Task Maester Luwin in finding the marriage contract for Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark, or any writings of Northerner ways, then present those to Lord F-Stark."

"He is your Father as well, Jon," Robb reminded him. Eddard Stark treated Jon the same way he treated Robb while Jon was at Winterfell, much to his wife's displeasure, Robb knew.

He only got a melancholy smile, that made Jon's eyes seem bottomless and black. "I'm not a Stark. I may have Stark blood, but that is not my House."

Robb heaved a sigh, he had many a conversation like that with Jon – one more reason why he thought his Lady Mother's claims of Jon ever usurping Robb's position was ridiculous.

"Of course you are a Stark, you may be called Vermilion now, but you were always a Stark," he reassured Jon, but Jon just closed his eyes and leaned back to the tree's trunk.

"I don't know who I am, Robb. Am I Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark, or am I a trueborn son of Brandon Stark or am I neither?"

Present time

A few weeks before the twins' fourth nameday, they and Bran fell sick. Jonnela and Jonnel got better without consequences, but Bran – Bran lost the sight. He could not see. It saddened Robb when he observed his little brother being led around the table and shown to his seat for the wedding feast.

Or rather the reception of guests that arrived for his wedding. There were all men here – they were celebrating the last hours of his freedom, with wine and various pies. The women had similar celebrations but separately.

Even Sansa and Jayne Poole, despite not being flowered maidens, were deemed old enough to join the bride and other women and maidens. Not Arya though, who used lack of the Septa's and Lady Mother's attention to secrete herself to the archery range, or Jonnela, who was in the care of Lady Mother's main handmaiden that she brought as a part of her household from Riverrun.

***Sansa Stark – 1***

Sansa clapped her hands at the musicians and bards that sung and played on the various instruments for all of them. Well, there were all womenfolk here in the tower, as was Northerner custom - Lady Mira would spend the last day before the wedding ceremony amid the women that came to her wedding. It was exciting for Sansa to be included, while not a maiden flowered, she was considered old enough to join, while Arya was sent away with the other children.

She learned a score of things already as married women told of their life, something that her Lady Mother disapproved of her hearing, but for once she could not order her to leave or to silence the other women. She just glared, her mouth thin, but none of the other women paid Lady Stark any heed.

That came as a shock to Sansa, as her Lady Mother the daughter of Hoster Tully, who ruled the Riverlands as Lord Paramount, was Sansa's guiding light, the woman that could do no wrong, the perfect Lady and the one that Sansa tried to emulate in her behaviour. When Septa Mordane praised her stitching and her pose to Catelyn Tully, Sansa glowed under her Lady Mother's proud blue gaze.

To see her mother so displeased at the proceedings and not do anything stumped Sansa. How could this be?

Her mother was the epitome of a Lady; the wives of Lord Father's bannermen should defer to her. Instead, they paid her no mind; they talked amongst themselves, to her brother's betrothed, even to Sansa herself. But they seemed to ignore Septa Mordane, who had a Seven-pointed Star on her lap and was reading psalms of the Seven, and her mother who was sitting closest to the fire – all the others were sitting by the open windows and stitching a shirt for Bran. Sansa herself was seated by her mother, uncomfortably warmed by the fire at her back, as she embroidered a kerchief for little Jonnela.

The shock faded and she stilled and listened with wide eyes of marriage and other things – apparently, the bride had to have knowledge of what would happen in the marriage bed, that was told by Lady Mormont and Lady Forrester.

Sansa wondered if when her time came if there would be a gathering such as this … but her Mother promised her that she'd wed a Prince and become a Queen. She sighed – her mother's friend wrote from King's Landing; she read a letter that he wrote to her, enclosed in a letter that arrived for her mother.

Mother handed her the sealed missive with a smile – it was written by Prince Joffrey himself. A couple of words, offering congratulations for her nameday. Sansa read and reared those couple of short words a hundred times.

"Mother, mind there are young Maidens present," her brother's betrothed objected, her grey eyes dancing. And Sansa stopped dreaming of Her Prince and focused back to the company.

"Oh Sansa is old enough to hear it, while not yet a woman flowered, these things will be of use to her when she will be wed. After all, it's not good if a young wife is too naive and unknowing of life," Lady Forrester dismissed her daughter's words.

Her Lady Mother cleared her throat, "Perhaps it's time for my future god-daughter to get ready for her wedding?"

"Lady Catelyn is right," Lady Mira demurred, "Mother?"

"Ahh yes, the wedding gown – as you know the wedding gown is sewn by the women of the House that the bride is born into. Usually, it is a reworked gown that the bride's mother wore. Of course, we will have to make vinok from periwinkle, poppy, frostfires and all framed with wood fern. Robb will himself add Winter Rose at the centre."

With that, Lady Elissa Forrester went to the ironwood chest that lay by the window – it was lovely workmanship with a chiselled House Forrester sigil of a white ironwood tree on the black field, embellished with a black sword pointing down, and their family's words 'Iron from Ice'. Lady Mira followed her mother, and she and one other maid vanished behind the screen that two bannermen's wives pulled across the room.

Sansa wiggled in her seat in anticipation; she heard that Lady Elissa's wedding gown was a masterpiece made by the same seamstress that had sewn dresses for the Targaryens. And she hadn't known that the North possessed such elaborate wedding customs. Septa Mordane and her Lady Mother described the rites and wedding gowns of the South, never of the North, so Sansa assumed that there was no elaborate weddings rites – just two people handfasting before the Heart tree.

She was finding out how wrong she was … and that meant that Septa Mordane was wrong and her Mother was also in the wrong, and that was the strangest thought of them all...

And then Lady Mira stepped out, and Sansa gasped. The gown was gorgeous. Made from shimmering satin and chiffon and delicate Myrish lace – her entire neckline was covered in its delicate webbing, giving the dress a high neck – the sleeves were of similar design; they were billowing and bell-like. The bodice hugged her waist and then flared like a musician trumpet at the bottom. At the back, there was a slight train, made from white cotton, that dabbled as a half cape as it was lined with white fur. The whole look was rounded with a sequined around the shoulders and beading of pearls and semi-precious stones that caught the light and shimmered as Mira walked.

Her hair was tightly braided and in the middle of her dark brown braid sat an arched halo headpiece, filled with a woven basket-like style, ground in metallic burnished copper with hints of gold atop a partial decorative skullcap. This was where the fresh flowers would be put.

"You make a lovely bride, Lady Mira," her Lady Mother allowed as she stood, "It's time for you to marry my son," Catelyn declared to the room.

All the Ladies stood up, Sansa lurched to her feet, smiling wide … until Septa Mordane let out a little cough that made Sansa look at her; she was met with a disapproving stare from the Septa. Chagrined, Sansa gave a little curtsy in the Septa's direction, then schooled her features into one of serenity, as she was taught a Lady should have, and clasped her hands before herself – a sign of a demure lady, with a back straight and true.

Godswood

After the procession that followed the bride from the keep and into the Godswood stopped and Lady Mira joined Robb under the Heart-tree, Sansa went to stand with the rest of the family.

Her Lady Mother stood at her Lord Father's left, while Sansa stood as first of their children at Robb's usual place as Robb was standing under a canopy of the Heart tree's red leaves, right before the white face of the wirewood tree, which was seeping red sap from its eyes and mouth. He was wearing a wreath made of white wirewood and ironwood branches, decorated with dark blood-red, five-pointed leaves. In his hand, he was holding a single Winter Rose from Winterfell's glasshouse. The Rose was the colour of blue frost which he put at the centre of Lady Mira's headpiece of periwinkle, frostfires, and wood fern.

Sansa was pleased that her own gown matched the colour of the Winter Rose, and she was glad that she decided to embroider roses on her sleeves, neckline, and made a rope belt in the shape of roses. Lady sat beside her, just as Night sat beside Robb.

Beside her, as third born, stood Arya in her finest dress, that was as grey as a snow pigeon's wings, and its hem was embroidered and lined with silver rabbit fur, her wild-eyed direwolf Amber sitting beside her equally wild sister. Beside Arya stood Bran, who was dressed in his finest leathers, and lastly Jonnel and Jonnela, in their child-smocks, who were watched over by Septa Mordane, who was frowning with tightly lipped disapproval at the ceremony taking place.

Specter was quietly sitting beside Jon, who was standing at the other side of Robb, facing her Lord Father. Beside him stood Ser Asher Forrester, Mira's older brother, who was living as a retainer of the Lord of Harrenhal and his maternal uncle Lord Malcom Branfield with his Lady Wife Leonette of House Fossoway. The elderly Lady Whent sat beside them, her servants standing beside her.

Lady Leonette was dressed in a resplendent teal gown, with a sweetheart bodice with bronze trim, maroon and red heavy embroidery on the skirt and bodice; the sleeves of the gown were long and sweeping the ground with crystal-shaped prints. Her hair was expertly braided in a crown twist bun and held together with red ribbons. Unlike her Lady Mother, Lady Leonette wore a dusting of purple colour on her eyelids along with magenta tinted lips and cheeks.

She didn't understand why her Lord Father wasn't happy with Lady Leonette's Lord Husband; she could see her Lord Father wearing the most peculiar look when he saw Lord Branfield. Or was that when he saw the banner, the field of black and red and an iris flower proudly shining in purple in the middle? It looked lovely; she didn't know that House Branfield had such striking colours in its sigil.

"Who goes there?" her Lord's Father voice boomed.

"Robb Stark, here before the heart-tree to be wed to Mira Forrester," her brother said, and as soon as he finished, Lady Mira stepped beside him, a loaf of bread and a clay pitcher in hand. She handed the pitcher to Lady Mormont and a loaf of bread to Lord Umber.

"Mira Forrester here to be wed before the heart-tree to Robb Stark."

"Are you here to join hands and live together in the eyes of the Gods?" asked Lord Greatjon Umber.

"We do," Robb and Mira replied and faced the heart-tree. Lord Greajton broke the bread in half and gave it to Robb and Mira – who ate it.

"To cherish and respect till death separates you?" asked Lady Maege Mormont, when they made their last swallows...

"We do," they answered, and with that Lady Mormont took the pitcher and … Sansa only now realized that in that pitcher was fresh blood – poured it on the roots of the heart tree.

"Do you, child of my womb," Lady Elissa Forrester stepped forward, "wish to tie your life to Robb Stark?"

Lady Mira – Sansa's future godsister held up a hand, palm facing downward. "I chose Robb Stark to be my husband out of my free will."

"So be it, daughter," Lady Elissa replied and deposited a cloth that Sansa embroidered for just this occasion, at Mira's wrist, so that it dangled from her wrist.

Then Sansa's Lady Mother stepped forward and with clear voice asked, "Do you, a child of my womb, wish to tie your life to Mira Forrester?"

"I do," Robb said and interweaved his fingers with Mira, only his hand was palm up.

"So be it, son." With that, Catelyn took the ends of the cloth and tied their hands together. As soon as she was done, her Lady Mother stepped away.

"Now meet Lord and Lady Stark!" her father boomed, and the thunderous applause and yells shook the air, while her brother kissed Lady Mira under the heart-tree.

Hours later

"Cheers!" Greatjon yelled, and every man and some women drank deeply from the distilled clear liquid from the small flask. Her Lady Mother had forbidden her to take a sip, but Robb secretly gave her some … it tasted horrible; it burned so badly that it made her eyes water and she had a coughing spell.

That was when he wasn't kissing Mira, since every time some of the gust yelled 'cheers' they had to kiss while the guests drank. Sansa thought it romantic .. in an unladylike, and not knightley like, way. She would prefer a wedding in the South, for herself, to a Prince or the Heir of Highgarden he was yet unwed, her Mother told her, and she made sure that Sansa was aware of every major House in the South with eligible heirs.

The Martells appealed to Sansa as well – she'd be a Princess. Though she'd rather be a Queen.

There was also the Westerlands – with Lord Kevan Lannister's sons that were of an age with Sansa. The Stormlands, the Lord of Storm's End was yet unmarried – Lord Renly Baratheon, King Robert's youngest brother. She supposed that being wedded to the brother of the King would not be amiss either. She heard that Lord Renly was a handsome man.

Sansa was glad that the Imp was married, she shuddered; she would dislike being married to an ugly, short man. Then she regarded her Lord Father's bannermen – most of them had some shade of brown hair, long faces, and various shades of light blue or grey eyes. And they were all pale, with tall, and a slightly stocky body structure, large and high noses, and deep beards.

She'd prefer a cleanly shaved husband or at least one with neatly trimmed whiskers and beard. She heard Mother complain once or twice of how Lord Father's beard was scratchy.

Next day in the stables

"I don't understand. And neither Lord Father nor Lady Mother wants to explain ..." she was telling to Lady, as she was sent away so that her parents could converse. They announced it at dinner, Robb and Mira were sitting together, their hands still tied together – and would be for the whole night! Her Lord Father announced that King Robert would arrive in four days, and when the King left, her parents and herself would travel first to Riverrun and then all the way to King's Landing with the King!

And she would take Lady with her, while Robb would be a Stark at Winterfell. Most importantly Arya would stay behind as well.

"What is it, child?" Lady Forrester asked. Sansa winced; she did not want to ask this out loud, the words just tumbled from her mouth – unwanted and unlooked for. But leaving this unanswered would be unladylike.

She curtsied, "I was wondering why does Lord Father seem displeased in Lord Branfield wearing his House sigil?"

The lady blinked at her. "Child, first of all, the curtsy is required only for the Royal Family. No need to curtsy to any other Lady or Lord. It puts you in a subservient position even if you are Lord Paramount's daughter. It is very graceful, Lady Sansa chin up, child."

Sansa felt Lady Forrester's hand on her chin – she only did as Septa Mordane instructed her, a Lady always must look demure!

"If you are to go live at King's Landing," Lady Forrester continued, "you must keep these things in mind – true friends are almost impossible to find; everyone wants something from you and will lie to you in your face with an honest smile and kind eyes. All nobles play a Game of Thrones, and in it, you are either a helpless pawn or a player. It will do you no favours if you put yourself in the pawn position from the start."

"But Septa Mordane ..."

"The good Septa was neither at court nor was she in the position you are in, Lady Sansa. She cannot advise you on a subject she is unaware of." Lady Elissa's voice was pure iron when she said that. "Septas and Septons have no business in politics."

The arrival of the King or 5 days later

They were all in the courtyard, facing the gates and lined up. In the first row stood her Lord Father, then on his right was her Lady Mother. Then stood Robb with his Lady Wife Mira, then Sansa, beside her stood Arya, her hair mussed terribly – and Sansa could swear that she saw straw tangled in her sister's brown braids. Bran stood beside Arya, his sightless eyes staring forward and a blackbird was perched on his shoulder. Then stood the twins with Septa Mordane just behind them, her hands clasped on each of the twins' shoulders.

Then stood Jon with Lady Whent and others. In the second row stood the high ranking serfs, the visiting bannermen, and Lady Asha Greyjoy.

The first knights that rode in had gold cloaks then came the ones that had crimson, and finally in rode the Kingsguard. They were followed by an enormous black stallion bearing the King; a wheelhouse drawn by four horses pulled to a stop.

King Robert dismounted, quickly followed by the Kingsguard and others. She kneeled as was the Northerner custom, grimacing at the thought that her knee was touching the ground. Another Northerner custom she disliked; she preferred to curtsy. Only, Lady Elissa instructed her that with other Ladies of the Court she was to incline her head. She might be unwed and not yet flowered but she was a Lord Paramount's daughter; curtsying was reserved only for the King and his Royal Family of Westeros or the Prince or Princess of Dorne.

King Robert marched toward her Lord Father – she watched him under her lashes, then she turned her attention to the wheelhouse doors that were being opened by a servant. Emerging first was a boy – no it wasn't just any boy, it was Prince Joffrey!

He had shoulder length curly golden hair that shone in the sunlight. Eyes as green as an emerald and full lips – he was the perfect prince. Handsome and tall and golden. He wore the crimson vest with a stag embodied on front.

She stood up when everyone did. Sansa brought her attention to the King as he embraced her Lord Father, kissed her Lady Mother's cheek, nodded at Robb, congratulating him on his wife's beauty, and commented on how pretty Sansa was. She felt a blush and gave a curtsy and averted her eyes.

She watched how the queen was helped out by Ser Barristan the Bold; she wore a heavy crimson damask gown trimmed with fur, with a cloak made from the rich fur of red foxes. Then one of the younger princes, he was tall for a boy of eight summers, jumped out and helped Princess Myrcella out of the wheelhouse. The ten summers old Princess was dressed similarly to the Queen, and then the boy turned so Sansa could see him clearly.

He was a scrawny boy, she decided, very unlike his beautiful older brother and Heir to the Iron Throne. He had a lean body and stick-like limbs. His black hair had a dusting of gold among the dark, and it curled at the end, and one eye was solid black while the other was a dull green colour. Unlike his brother, he wore a woollen tunic and greyish green pants. He also had an embroidered crowned stag on his front. This must have been Prince Lyonel Baratheon; he was rumoured to share similar eye colouring with his uncle the Imp of Casterly Rock. Prince Lyonel also had two braids with glass beads braided behind his left ear.

"What's your name, lass?" Sansa heard King Robert ask; she looked out of the corner of her eye to see him bending over Arya. Who was glaring at the King!

"Arya," her sister replied rudely. Sansa winced and looked back at the Queen and her children. While she was occupied with watching Arya, she missed the disembarkment from the Royal Wheelhouse of Princess Robara, who was as tall as Princess Myrcella despite being a year younger. She had straight black hair and black eyes; she was dressed in Baratheon colours of yellow and black. She had a hooked nose – that marred her otherwise beautiful face and she had crooked teeth. Sansa noticed this when the Princess smiled to her brother – the brother was plump with white blonde, curly hair and emerald eyes. It was Prince Tommen Baratheon, King Robert's youngest child, and the only one of the King's sons that was betrothed; he was to wed his cousin Shireen Baratheon when they'd be of age.

King Robert then turned to her blind brother. "And you must be Brandon Stark."

"Yes, Your Grace," her brother, her sweet poor blind brother, nodded solemnly.

The King then turned to Jon, who bowed at the waist like a proper knight.

"Jon, it is good to see you again," the King greeted Jon, who gave a solemn nod to the King.

"Likewise, my King."

"I hear what you did on the road with the brigands three moons ago from Ser Barristan," the King continued while watching Jon. "So I'm going to do what I wanted to do at the first tourney you won – kneel."

Sansa watched as King Robert knighted her brother or – a cousin if she recalled the rumours of a wedding between Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. She never paid it any mind nor did she ask her parents or any of her siblings. Jon was removed from her thoughts when he went away, and her Lady Mother was content with Jon's absence. Sansa, being the dutiful daughter, was glad for her Lady Mother.

Queen Cersei, wrapped in fox fur, approached then; Lord Father kissed her ring followed by her Lady Mother doing the same.

"I want to go to the crypt, to pay my respects." King Robert was suddenly looming over his queen, whose lips thinned in disapproval.

"We were travelling at a fast pace," Queen Cersei said, "my love, surely the dead can wait."

The King ignored his wife and turned away from her. "Ned!" called the King.

"Yes, Your Grace," her Father said and walked toward the Crypts.

"Your Grace," it was Jon who stepped forward to stand before the Queen, "you must be tired of your journey; why don't we go to the Great Hall? I'm sure that the Princesses would welcome the warmth that Winterfell offers."

The Queen gave a tight-lipped smile and then turned to Sansa's mother. "Right this way, My Queen." Lady Catelyn bowed before the queen and Robb offered the Queen his elbow while Jon and Bran did the same for Princess Myrcella and Princess Robara.

"My Lady." Prince Joffrey was standing before her with all his splendour; Sansa sighed internally at the sheer romance of it … she must prevail upon her Lady Mother to ask Father so that Sansa could be Prince Joffrey's bride and later his Queen. "Let me escort you inside."

"Yes, Your Grace," she curtsied and took his hand. From the corner of her eye, she saw Arya being escorted by Prince Lyonel and Jonnela by Prince Tommen while Jonnel walked with the Septa.

At the Feast

Her Lord Father escorted Queen Cersei, who wore an elaborate crimson gown with golden trims and golden jewellery about her throat and wrists. King Robert led Lady Catelyn to the High Table.

Then next came Robb with Princess Myrcella, followed by Jon and Princess Robara; Sansa was led to the table by the golden Prince.

Joffrey was so charming; she'd ask Lady Mother if she'd convince Father to ask for a betrothal. She would very much like to wed Prince Joffrey and bear him golden-haired children.

Arya was escorted to the table by Prince Lyonel, and Jonnela by Prince Tommen, while Jonnel walked with their godsister, Mira.

Before he sat down the King bellowed, "Hear all of you! Today I announce a betrothal of my daughter, Princess Myrcella, to the Archduke of Crownlands and Lord of Harrenhal, Jon Vermilion-Stark. Now bring on the ale, damn it!"

***Samwell Tarly - 1***

King's Landing 299AC

The King's procession just disappeared from sight; they were en route to Winterfell. The entire Royal Family left for the wedding of Lord Robb Stark to Lady Mira Forrester.

Sam was standing in the Tower of the Hand; he just came to deliver some documents to Lord Arryn. Since Lord Tyrion was at Casterly Rock, he took over some of the Lannister duties. His new friend Lord Jon Vermilion-Stark set out to Winterfell moons before the Royal Family from King's Landing, where he squired under Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard.

Sam winced when he remembered that Ser Jaime was no longer part of that Order. He was dismissed by King Robert soon after Sam and his wife Lyra arrived to stay in King's Landing.

It was a jape of the Gods that two heirs were disinherited and left to make their own path. After all, Sam and his wife arrived straight from Horn Hill, where Sam refused his father's demands and left his father's halls. While Jaime left, not for Casterly Rock, but to Esses- spurning his own birthright in favour of his younger brother.

Sam still didn't know why and how that came about. There were rumours and guessing games among the Lords and Ladies of the Court. Even Jon didn't know all of it, but Sam knew that Ser Jaime left a letter for Jon … not that Jon shared its contents with him; he hadn't been close with him then.

It was funny that Sam's first inclination was to stay away from the Lord of Harrenhal – but his wife Lyra of House Mormont went and sought the Lord out, as she knew him from before they wed, and then Sam met and talked to him, and Jon became a friend to Samwell as well.

"Sam!" his Lady Wife's voice penetrated his thoughts.

Sam turned around to see Lyra standing behind him in her usual attire of long robes, the same fashion the Queen was seen wearing, only Lyra made it more simple, more streamlined and not so heavily embroidered. She also wore it in such colours that she showed homage to House Mormont and House Tarly, and a belt with a silver chain that clasped together with a golden bear head – beneath the airy fabric of that robe however his wife wore pants and long knives. And probably a mace, if he knew his wife. He approved of her arms however, King's Landing was a dangerous place. Though most of its danger was removed now that the Royal Family went North.

"Yes, dear?"

His wife circled him, and he stood up; even when standing up his wife was a head taller than he. "I've been calling you for a while, where were you?" she leaned in.

Blinking Sam leaned towards her. "Er, I was thinking of Jon," he murmured just as Lyra kissed him.

"Should I be jealous?" she asked teasingly when she pulled back. And Sam was not ashamed for the foggy thoughts, and the fact that it took a while for his thoughts to clear from that fog.

"What!? No," Sam yelped and then scowled when Lyra descended into a peal of laughter. "Not funny, Lyra!"

"Yes, it is," she gasped out between the laughter. "You should see your face."

"You wouldn't say that to Jon," he grumbled.

She smirked, like Sam supposed a She-bear would right after she spotted a beehive that she'd empty of its treasure. "Actually I did, though your reaction was more entertaining."

"What did Jon say?" he asked, curious to how his friend took the teasing of Sam's wife.

"Well," she finally came down from her mirth, though her eyes still sparkled in mischief. "At first he stared, then he said that he prefers his love life women shaped."

Then there was a polite cough and they turned to see Lord Arryn watching them, his eyes lit with amusement. Sam blanched at the thought of Lord Jon Arryn hearing his conversation with Lyra.

"Lord Hand," Lyra greeted the old Lord, "we didn't hear you come in."

"That's all right, Lady Tarly, no harm done. Lord Samwell?" It was a question; Sam heard it clearly, and he supposed since they were at the Tower of the Hand, and in Jon Arryn's workspace, that wasn't so odd – what was, was that Sam got so distracted first by his thoughts and then by his wife. And what was Lyra doing in the Hand's Tower?

"I'm here to deliver these reports," Sam answered while showing Lord Arryn the parcel of scrolls.

Lord Arryn's sky blue eyes winded. "That was fast..." he muttered. "Good work," he praised him.

"Yes, I had help," Sam said then he smiled at Lyra. "My wife." His wife, while not a big lover of the written word, helped him often so that his workload didn't overwhelm him and he had more time for personal pursuits.

"Ah," Lord Arryn nodded. "Yes, I can attest that Lysa helps me on occasion as well and the work is sooner done with her help," Lord Arryn said, "though she tires all too easily now."

Considering Lysa Arryn of House Tully was with child. This would be her fourth child; Samwell knew that they were hoping for a boy – a boy that would inherit the Eyrie in case something – Gods forbid happened to Robert Arryn who was now a seven summers old lad, with blond hair that had some copper lights and with big blue eyes Arryn sky blue and not the deep water Tully blue. And when the Royal Party returned, Lysa's niece Lady Sansa Stark would be fostered with the Arryns in King's Landing.

"How is Lady Lysa?" Lyra asked. "Can I call on her?" For some reason, Lady Lysa Arryn took to mothering the She-Bear and for some unfathomable reason, Lyra allowed that. Something that Queen Cersei sometimes openly mocked, which Lyra ignored and Lysa didn't pay any mind to.

"I didn't want to impose on her."

"I'm sure my wife would say that she is only pregnant and not an invalid," Lord Arryn said with some humour. "Keep the visit short, my Lady, so that my Lady Wife doesn't tire too greatly in the last moons of her pregnancy," he warned Sam's wife.

"I won't; I simply tell her tales from Bear Island," then she smiled, "if she births a daughter, she'll probably insist in calling her Ursa."

Lord Arryn groaned, "I hope she won't be as wild as her namesake."

Lyra Tarly nee Mormont chuckled. "Would that be really so bad for her to be like the woman she would be named after?"

Jon Arryn pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, I suppose I would not mind. But the world would be hard on a Lady such as her."

His wife, it was still surreal for Samwell Tarly to say that – his wife. Especially since he knew that his Lord Father meant for him to join the Night's Watch when his service to the Baratheon Princesses would be done. He said as much upon the day of Samwell's departure– that he (had) no hope that Sam would man up and become worthy of Horn Hill

Randyll Tarly wanted Dickon to inherit Horn Hill. Dickon who was the perfect son, and in their Lord Father's image. His Lord Father was not happy when Sam came home with a wife – and because they wed in the Light of the Seven, by a Septon, and had been married for a couple of moons, he could not annul the marriage, but he did pull Sam aside and say that they would have a hunt – a hunt from which Sam would not come home. Unless he renounced his place as heir and husband by taking the Black.

Samwell, the person he was before, … before Princess Elenei coached him in wielding a staff and told him that he mattered, that he was brave, and that his father was foolish to not see the value of Sam.

The Samwell that somehow got the courage to talk with the Bolton heir – and discovered a kindred soul in Ser Domeric. They shared a love of books and had demanding and overbearing and cold fathers.

Samwell who spared with Brienne of Tarth, who was a better swordswoman than Ser Hyle Hunt and even Dickon were swordsmen. Not that they would have admitted it even if she'd beat them in front of the crowd, and she was somebody his Lord Father would have found unnatural since according to Randyll Tarly, a woman belonged at home and could do only things that were appointed to them in the Seven-pointed Star.

Obedient to their betters – their father and later their Lord Husband.

Depended on their protection – a woman need not take arms, she only needed to run her Lord Husband's keep and bring heirs to the world.

That Samwell Tarly would have set out on the journey to the Wall the next day. He wasn't that Samwell Tarly no more.

He was different; he discovered when he heard his father speak so ….

Horn Hill 296 AC (Lyra Mormont PoV)

Lyra Mormont no Lady Lyra Tarly, she and Sam married only a sennight ago on Estermont Island and were on the way to meet members of her new House. They were travelling towards Horn Hill, from Estermont by horses via road.

Sam told her a little of his family on the way; she knew that Randyll Tarly disproved of his eldest son, and he would be displeased by Sam marrying without his input, and Sam warned her that there was a slight possibility of Randyll disinheriting Sam.

"Would that pain you?" she asked when Sam finished talking of how Lord Tarly tried to discourage Sam from going to the Citadel, where he would join the Maesters at the Conclave in Old Town.

Sam looked started and lost, so she elaborated her question, "To be disinherited, and not inheriting Horn Hill?"

She didn't care for being some dainty Southern Lady – that was not her; she was a Mormont born, a She-Bear and a Lady of the North. She wasn't afraid of some hardship and working alongside her husband. Why on Bear Island there was no such thing as gender work division; if you had talent and capacity for that talent, it was nurtured, being male or female. Oh, cousin Jorah was groomed to take over after Uncle Jeor, but it would hardly matter since he didn't have a capacity to lead and sooner or later poor, unfortunate cousin – who was another example of why it was a bad idea for Northerners to marry for political gain to the Lady of the South … at least before said Lady was equated in just what she was getting into by marrying the Northerner.

The same should be said for men; Lyra did warn Sam all about the climate and that there was a possibility that he'd have to work – like chop wood. Sam said that it didn't matter and that he was willing to work hard if it meant being with her and books...her Samwell went through those like some men – like King Robert, the King of Whores as he was known in Flea Bottom and the Crownlands went through women and wine, or the likes of Jaime Lannister and his swords.

"No," Sam said with wonder, "I don't believe it would."

Lyra nodded, "Besides, it wasn't like we'd be left adrift," she said, "We'll always be welcome in Bear Island with me and my, now your, family. My mother is very interested; we haven't had a scholar in the family, that was always the Maesters preview. So a noble that is very learned would be welcome. We could also travel to Dorne to be with Princess Argella. Or return to Princess Elenei's side and you know she'll always welcome both of us."

Sam was genuinely touched by the notion. It hurt to see the boy-man that she first became friends with, and later developed tender feelings for, so elated by a simple reassurance that he had friends that loved and cared for him, just the way he was.

"Or apply to help the Hand of the King in King's Landing," Sam suddenly added. Lyra raised an eyebrow at her husband who blushed – his round face never before resembled an apple as it did then.

"Oh," she prompted, along with a nudge to her husband's ribs.

"Ah, Princess Elenei wrote to her Uncle Tyrion, about me and … well, the Princess suggested in her letter of me taking place in some capacity at court." Sam fidgeted for a bit, "The reply from Lord Tyrion arrived just before we left, so I haven't gotten the opportunity to discuss it with you yet."

"And you thought nothing would come of it," Lyra stated, knowing her husband lacked confidence at times. Confirming her thoughts, Sam nodded.

"Well, apparently you thought wrong. Being in King's Landing might be good for you; you could fix the problems of the realm in your own way. Now tell me more of your family I'm about to meet. What of your Lady Mother?" she asked, "and you have siblings, yes?"

Samwell's face brightened, "My Mother is from House Florent; her name is Lady Melessa. She is very pious, but she is also kind."

That was a rare quality; there were not many pious ladies that Lyra had met that didn't look down on her for being from the North and worshipping the Old Gods only. Catelyn Tully learned that in a hard way – she had no friends among the Northern noblewomen, and as far as Lyra noticed on the rare occasions she visited Winterfell, Lady Catelyn didn't even realize it now. Lyra's mother once made a comment that Lady Tully expected for the North to be like the South, where wives of Lord Paramount were in charge of the household and the wives of bannermen, and when she finally realized that things were not as she expected them to be – the northerner servants gossiped that Lady Catelyn and the serves and lady's maids she brought from the Riverlands were paying tithes from their own allowances, something even the Manderlys stopped doing in the first years of settling North.

Lyra could not understand why Lady Catelyn never even visited the White Harbor.

They had a Sept there, granted there was no Septon or Septa in White Harbor, but still … ever since the Lady of Winterfell found out that the congregation members preach in Sept and that they do not pay tithes, she never again brought the topic up nor asked for her to visit the Sept – and she was not the first wife from the South, though she was the first that had a Sept in Winterfell, something other Northern Lords eyed with unease, and she was the first that raised the future Starks in both religions.

"My sister Talla inherited our mother's sweet nature," Sam continued, "she is also very smart as she often read with me. She especially liked to read the topics of healing and Valyrian poetry – she is fluent in High Valyria," he said with a fond smile, then his face darkened.

"Until Father forbid other books to her but The Seven-pointed Star texts. Then there are Rehela and Melara. They are quiet girls, or that is how I remember them; my Father didn't allow for much else with them than to study with the Septa. Then there is Dickon. When he was born Father ignored me – those were the best years of my life and then the Royals came to Highgarden and I was taken in as a Page for the two Princesses."

"You must miss them."

"I miss my sisters and my mother," Samwell said flatly, "And would you be disappointed if I said that I feel heavy and weary just thinking that soon my Lord Father and I will speak face to face?"

Lyra thought on all she knew about Randyll Tarly, from Samwell and Princess Elenei.

Then he jumped because there was a rap on the top of the wheelhouse. "Lord Samwell, we arrived at Horn Hill."

"You heard the man," Lyra said to Sam, who again retreated into himself, "let's meet my new family ."

Lyra smiled … now, this should prove interesting. Perhaps she should look at this as some sort of battlefield, where she doubted she'd win the approval – nor would she seek it, as she really doesn't need it – she had Samwell's approval.

Lyra's first impression of the fort, it was not a castle – it was a fort on the hill. Granted the fort itself was made from mud-red stones and tiled with red brick and had high and well-made archer towers.

But as a fortress, Mormont's Bear Den was a more fortified structure, and she highly doubted that there was warm water running through the walls as there was in almost every older castle in the North. Not that they needed it for warmth. But those poor servants who must lug (the) warm water for the baths.

"Sam!" came a shout, and a tall and lean, dark-haired young lady came at a brisk walk towards them, but her smile was kind and welcoming. Which was proven when she rushed to Sam and hugged him tightly.

"Talla! Where is Father?" Sam asked.

Lyra knew that Sam expected Lord Tarly to be in attendance. But as she observed her husband converse with his sister, Lyra was finding that she rather liked her god-sister. Talla Tarly had a passing resemblance to Sam, with those unfortunate too large ears that all Florents seemed to have. The too large ears were inflicted on Lord Stannis Baratheon's wife and his only child, Lady Shireen Baratheon.

When she was a Lady in Waiting in King's Landing, Lyra often heard Princess Elenei saying that the ears of Florents would not be so noticeable on her sweet cousin, if Lady Selyse did not insist on Shireen having braided hair up and around her head, so that her ears were even more prominent along with the scaring, which was a pity because little Lady Shireen was comely child, despite her scaring.

"They went to the wedding," Talla said, "your letter said that you were visiting a day after they left." Then she smiled, "Father left Dickon in charge, but our brother left on a hunt and has been gone for days now. Mother took Rehela and Melara with them to the wedding of Aunt Rhea to Lord Leyton Hightower and charged me to look over the household."

"Ah so they are unaware that I ..." Sam trailed off.

"No. I didn't even tell Dickon, though as soon as the wheelhouse was spotted I ordered for your rooms to be ready, with additional rooms prepared in mind of your marital status." Then she beamed, "Congratulations, little brother."

Talla turned to Lyra next, "I am unsure what welcome Lord Father will give, and Dickon tries to emulate father in everything, but know that Mother will welcome you with open arms. And so do I."

With that Talla hugged her as well and then released her, and Lyra was out of breath – there was a lot of strength in that hug, and judging by the slightly pained twist in Sam, her husband had some pain in his ribs as well.

Day's later

Lyra still did not forgive her god-brother, which she proved when she knocked the arrogant ass on the floor.

Twice.

"For the last time," she said calmly, "I am no delicate flower, as I've proven to you days ago or did the jousting stick knock the wits out of you? You say I am delicate ...'delicate' only gets brought in when a man like you is bested by one of my sex; are you afraid and insecure with yourself that women can whether pain better than men do? When you see her, apologize to your mother - as she had to push a babe out from her opening that is smaller than your mouth and did that five times. What is so delicate and weak in that?"

Talla came to them then, "Father's banners were spotted on the road; they will be here soon, Dickon. You must prepare for Father's arrival."

"Yes, of course, I'll go to my rooms to make myself presentable. Is Samwell ready?"

"Yes."

Dickon scoffed, "I suppose that he doesn't sweat much being in the library with Maester Allen."

"I wouldn't say that god-brother," Lyra drawled, "I would not challenge him in archery or staff fighting," though she did when she needed to spar; her Sam was very proficient in archery and staff fighting – but he hated the hunt and the sight of blood still.

She blamed her Father in Law for it the more she thought of Princess Elenei's words on the subject. Samwell didn't like the hunt, but he was not sick at the sight of blood until Lord Tarly brought Qartheen warlocks to bathe him in aurochs' blood. After that, for a long time the sight of blood, and even the smell of it made Sam sick. He was better now, though her Sam still preferred books to swords.

"Surely you jape, Father said that …."

"He is a craven? Aye Sam told me that on the second day we met … and it takes a special kind of courage for a man to admit to fear, for only a fool is not afraid, and only frightened men can be brave."

It was the second saying the whole North held to, the first being 'The North Remembers'. It was another frivolous thing of the South, she supposed, though not nearly as appalling as the sheer food waste that happened in every Southern castle.

"Challenge him then if you disbelieve me," Lyra said, finally done with this green boy who thought that just because his brother didn't like fighting and avoided conflict was somehow of lesser worth, same as how most Southerners thought that bastards were evil or some such nonsense. As if the status of one's parents decided on men's or women's character, why if that would be so, Darcy, her elder sister, would not be their Mother's heir. In fact, Lyra knew that each of her Lady Mother's daughters had a different bear for a father. And sometimes even Mother. Lyra's sister Lyanna Mormont's birth Mother died at childbirth and Madge Mormont named and took her as her own, just as she claimed Gwendoline when she reached Bear Island. Another Northerner Lady who come to seek freedom - this one from her abusing husband.

"I need to get ready; after all, this is the first time I'll meet with my Lord Husband's Lord Father and Lady Mother."

***Hour Later***

Randyll Tarly was a thin, balding man, who had a beak of a nose with a greying beard and whiskers that were trimmed short. Lyra would have been impressed by the dutiful man but … well, he really should not make so many disparaging comments, hidden as they were, to Sam and his hobbies and his marriage.

Granted Sam and she wed without his parent's blessing; however, they did receive a Royal Permit, signed by King Robert himself.

"I would expect for you to change Samwell but I still see the same son I sent to King's Landing to be a Page to the Royal Family."

These Southerners always had some funny ideas about who was useful and who was not, based on their perception. Now while Sam would never be a warrior, that didn't mean he'd be a bad Lord of the Keep. He was smart with finances; he knew which avenues to peruse to increase the coffers. Sure at times, he'd get lost in books, but she found that endearing. Also, he discovered an interesting fact – like the North being rich in mines of iron, tin, and copper. Something that was forgotten over time.

Why he found that there was an untapped gold vein on Bear Island. If they could find the vein and mine it, it would certainly help their living, and there were some other things he discovered or re-discovered, something Lyra wrote her mother for. Apparently there were two herbs that had grown in abundance on Bear Island and were considered a weed – one was Medria or chicken weed, which was actually a medicinal herb, and Sting hair plant, which could be used in food and drink, but also for making clothes – and to think that they had forests full of this nettling plant.

"So you say, Father, but I know that this was a time well spent," Sam said. His Lord Father looked like he'd have a fit of some sort …

"Dear, we just arrived, and we need to clean ourselves from our journey," His wife Lady Melessa had said while laying a gentle hand on Lord Randyll's forearm. The man frowned at her.

"As Mother says," Sam said, his voice level – it seemed that her husband had made some sort of decision now that he was facing his Lord Father.

"Dear, what's the matter?" she asked when her husband joined her in their rooms. Sam seemed pale but resolute.

"I'm not staying here," he said with conviction, his pale hazel eyes meeting her own darker brown ones. "My Father had said that I'm not worthy of his lands and titles and that I should take the Black, if not we will have a hunt, where my horse will stumble and throw me off."

Lyra snorted; her Sam rode a Northerner bred horse that was not nearly so prone to getting startled. Also, she felt insulted that she would be cast aside like yesterday's linen smallclothes.

"Ah, did it escape your father that you are married and that you'll be a father in a couple of moon turns?"

"He thinks that...what?!" Sam's eyes grew in size and his mouth dropped open in shock. Lyra shrugged; it wasn't such a surprise that she could be with child, after all, they were lovers.

"I'm late with my moon blood," she said matter of fact, "now what did you say to your Lord Father?"

"That I want not either his titles or his lands, that I will find my own way in the world. My way. And with my wife at my side."

Then he smiled, "And I accepted the Hunt – but I did remind father that he should hold in mind that the Gods curse kinslayers. But I refuse to stay a moment after the Hunt – I accepted Lord Tyrion's offer for a position at court."

***The Hunt***

She liked the expanse of the woods in Horn Hill; it reminded her of home, only that the woods were more of a leafy variety, and weren't wirewood trees that had red leaves in the height of winter or evergreen pines, hemlocks, white tipped spruces, cedars, pines, and larches that grew in abundance on Bear Island.

When they all mounted, Randyll Tarly's displeasure was clearly seen as his face was sour and unpleasant, partly that was why she was present – according to him a woman would be permitted to hawking, not the hunt for boars and Harts. She informed her godfather that that might be true for faint of heart Ladies of the South who were as useful as garden flowers, but Northerner Ladies were as hardy as the North itself.

That was promptly proven later when she tracked the boar, a magnificent beast that was the size of a greyhound. Lyra was grinning as it was her Sam's arrow that tagged the gigantic boar and her axe that fell the beast.

The best of that was the stony face of Randyll Tarly extended by an opened mouthed stare, that he closed with a click and then there was a flicker of irritation. There would be no 'accident' during this hunt. She inspected the saddle and the reins that were her husband's.

"My Lord!" the maester greeted Randyll Tarly when he rode before them. Lyra didn't like the man. As a rule, Bear Island sent a young man every ten years, it didn't matter of his birth if he was competent and willing to learn, to the Citadel and he returned a maester when he forged his chain. And those returned men trained their helpers; it didn't matter if they were male or female; all it required was talent.

"Yes."

"Raven's from King's Landing."

"Very well, I will read them in my study." Lord Randyll waved towards the castle while dismounting from his warhorse. But the maester stepped back, suddenly evasive and a bit fearful.

"Begging your pardon, my Lord," he spoke just above a whisper, but Lyra was still able to hear him clearly, "but the missive is for young Master Samwell."

Lyra smiled, she knew that the letter carried their future; she wondered if Sam would inherit Horn Hill regardless of his Lord Father's wishes or if he would truly forge his own, independent path.

***King's Landing 299***

And the rest was history. They left the same day, bidding his mother and sisters goodbye; his father stubbornly went to the hunt for hart buck with Dickon.

It was in King's Landing that they learned of the Greyjoy Rebellion and of Princess Elenei Baratheon, Ser Domeric Bolton, Lady Aliandra of House Briar, and Brienne of Tarth's disappearance. Other disappointing news was that Lyra was not with child; it was a false alarm, but then they discussed things and decided together to wait for a better time to have a child of their own. Meaning that Lyra was now on Moon Tea to prevent a pregnancy.

"Samwell, I have her decree from Robert. If you sign this, there is an heir-less Lord of House Cargyll that past away. The keep itself is located south of Harrenhal; you would be vassal to the House of the Archduke of the Crownlands. You can take the name, keep, and lands. But you will have to give your inheritance to Horn Hill and the Tarly name up."

"Lord Arryn, when I asked Lord Vermilion-Stark for this, to see if something could be done in regards to me being independent of my Lord Father who doesn't want me to inherit Horn Hill in the first place – I accepted this for what it was. Where do I sign?"

The Hand of the King sighed, and regarded Sam in fatherly fashion – sometimes Sam wished that Randyll Tarly would have fostered him to the Vale then spread out the parchment bearing the sigil of House Cargyll, a golden goose on a blend of black and red; under the arms of the House was writings done by Jon Arryn's hand, signed and sealed by Robert Baratheon.

"Here, and here."

Sam put his signature to the parchment, and Jon Arryn pressed the seal of the Hand on the other side and added his own; the King's seal and the signature were already present.

"Congratulations Lord and Lady Cargyll," Jon Arryn said, while his wife Lyra's dark eyes glittered.

"I expected this moment moons ago and asked for your wife's, Lady Lysa's, help so this was ready in time." With that, she pulled a parcel from her skirt pocket and unwrapped the cloth.

"I figured the new incarnation of House Cargyll will need a new banner," Lyra said when she held up the cloth.

Sam stared; it was fitting. He thought that his new house had no bearing to House Tarly, but favoured greatly with House Mormont, his own wife's House, and House Florent, his Lady Mother's.

On the burnt brick red background, there was a sleeping onyx bear, circled by lapis lazuli flowers. And in the corner, there were the words: 'We Learn. We prevail.'

"I also have a small note from Lord Vermilion-Stark; I had informed him before he travelled for Winterfell, as it's my duty of pending new banners he could gain," Jon Arryn had said while passing the rolled up parchment bearing a wax seal of House Vermilion-Stark.

Sam took the rolled paper, breaking the seal, and read:

'Sam,' Jon had written in his loopy and long hand, 'if you're reading this, congratulations to the new Lord and Lady Cargyll. I'm immensely glad that I made such a good friend as you Sam, and I am doubly fortunate and honoured to call you my bannerman. I came to an arrangement with Castilian of Wing Hall – that is the name of the keep and the seat of House Cargyll to fill the keep with necessary staff and to prepare for you and Lyra. They eagerly await their new Lord and Lady. See you soon. your friend, Jon.'

Sam blinked a couple of times to still the tears that stung him; he was so moved by the gesture his friend had made. It seemed that he needed to send a thank you letter to his sire for fathering and disinheriting him after all.

***Jon Vermilion – 1***

King's Landing 298 AC

Jon was circling the knight, the freshly knighted Ser Loras Tyrell, or the Knight of Flowers as he was called by the masses. The people loved the flashy knight and the man that knighted him, Lord Renly Baratheon.

Loras was a skilled swordsman; Jon was good as well, he knew, but Loras managed to win points from him, not that Jon hadn't returned the favour. Loras was also very popular with the ladies of the court; they were sitting on the walls and tittering and chattering like flocks of songbirds when Loras was sparring at the arena. Grudgingly Jon acknowledged that yes, Loras was pretty and gallant – Sansa would fall in love with Tyrell's third son at first sight.

But he was also a showy man – that his armour was made from silver, or at least the surface was coated in silver; Jon hoped that a more sturdy metal was behind the polished and glittery surface that was decorated by sapphires and twisting black wines. There were also solid gold roses on his helm. And where Ser Loras was, Lord Renly was not far behind. It was odd though; Jon could understand why Tyrion always bet on Jaime at the tourneys, but Renly never placed a bet on any of his brothers, when King Robert still rode in a joust, and when Lord Stannis bothered to; he only ever placed bets on Loras.

"Point for Lord Jon Vermilion-Stark!" the page that kept score yelled and the other page placed a flag bearing his house colours and crest. He now had six points to Loras' eight, three golden roses on a green field. And this was the last match.

"Well fought, Ser Loras," Jon congratulated and praised the young Tyrell, who was a year his senior.

"And you as well, Lord Jon," Ser Loras grinned, then his light brown eyes, that were almost gold, lit up.

"You both fought well," the voice of Renly Baratheon came from behind, and also Jon knew that look Ser Loras held when he looked at Lord Renly. It was the same one some of the ladies bestowed at Loras, and some at Jon himself, it was love.

He carefully filed that knowledge for later examination and storage, just as he did other tidbits about people that inhabited King's Landing; some information was about the Royal family and prominent Lords and Ladies of the Court, some were of the clergy, and some of men and women that served them.

For example the small observations of Ser Jaime Lannister and the Queen Cersei, who once were as thick as thieves, and seemed closer than many of the siblings that he saw when he first came to squire under Ser Jaime.

That changed later, and it was soon after that Ser Jaime told him he was feverish and delirious from dream-wine and some injury he got in the swamp where he and Jon hunted down the brigands that plagued the King's road … he told him why he avoided the queen and the other thing. Jon did not judge or condemn them for their actions – after all, why would the queen be faithful if the king was not?

He only needed to imagine his Aunt Lyanna in Cersei Lannister's place and he lost all sympathy for Robert Baratheon. Robert Baratheon still proclaimed his love for Jon's Aunt, to Jon when he met him in the halls of the Red Keep while coming from one of his rooms full of giggling whores from Chatya's. Jon heard the stories that while Aunt Lyanna was missing when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen took her, Robert Baratheon was fighting to save her and in his free time he was drinking and fucking any kirtle that crossed his path.

With a husband like that, could he really blame the Queen for seeking love and devotion and a man that would be faithful to her elsewhere? It made him wonder if Aunt Lyanna ... it was not good to think it; it was in the past, and they were both dead.

Before Jon found out the reason for Ser Jaime's sudden coldness towards his sister, and before King Robert sent Jaime and him to hunt those brigands, Ser Jaime avoided the Queen and usually Jon was the excuse, though Jon would prefer for the Queen not to send him to poison glares and words. It was good that he was a prominent Lord now, and not some Northerner Lord's bastard.

Queen Cersei was always haughty towards Jon, and others that were not Lannisters, even the King was under her contempt. Her son Joffrey – the oldest of the Queen's children, that Jon knew – he never had met Princess Argella, nor Princess Elenei; both were away in Dorne or Estermont Island, respectfully. Joffrey was much like his Queen Mother, haughty and cruel and very much a blend of the worst characteristics of the King and Queen.

He was as vain as the Queen, who was ordering silks from Essos, instead of fine cotton from the Reach or silks from Dorne, and oblivious in his own ignorance of the realm, just like the King who was either in his cups or on some hunt, or with the kitchen maids, or ladies from Chataya's House.

Princess Myrcella was as sweet and fair as a Princess should be. And she took care of her younger sister, the Princess Robara. Who was the perfect contrast to Princess Myrcella. Where Princess Myrcella's hair was all golden curls, Princess Robara's was straight and dark. Where Princess Myrcella's face was heart-shaped, with a high forehead and cheekbones, Princess Robara had narrow cheeks, a long pointy nose, and a high and wide forehead. They shared their fair skin tone, their eye shape, though not the colour Princess Robara's were black, while Princess Myrcella's were green.

Princess Myrcella loved to work in her garden – usually, she was accompanied by one of the Kingsguard but only to the gate to Myrcella's garden. She insisted to be alone in there, not even her ladies, all of them from the Westerlands, was with her.

Princess Robara, however, enjoyed the hunt – hawking. She knew how to shoot a bow. Sometimes Lord Renly and Ser Loras went hawking with her. Then they usually returned with a couple of hares or fowl.

Jon had more than a passing familiarity with Prince Lyonel, the young boy around Arya's age. Though, the second Prince prefered making his gadgets. Some were even functional; he made improvements on an "enlarging glass"; now they could see the distant stars as they looked at letters. And a couple of other things – like blocks of letters from wood that he put together to form a sentence and then pressed them on parchment; the Prince named that "wooden writings" or "press words".

It was Prince Lyonel however that showed him a small library full of scrolls and books in leather bindings and pretty much commanded him in helping him go through it ... and Jon hadn't regretted it. That small dusty library was a treasure trove of information, most was written in High Valyrian though. Luckily both of them were proficient in that tongue.

Prince Tommen wasn't around Jon much. He didn't particularly like when people or animals got hurt. Once he found a fawn after the hunt and took it home and nursed the young stag to health. But then one day Prince Joffrey skinned the poor animal, who died in torment, while Prince Tommen watched. Joffrey then commanded for the skin to be put in his brother's rooms and the meat served for the Royal Family's private supper.

Prince Lyonel and Princess Robara were ignored by the Queen completely, though she paid some regard to Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella. But fortunately for them not too much. There was talk that Princess Myrcella and Robara would be visiting their sister, Princess Elenei at Estermont Island when there would be a tourney at Storm's End. Jon could freely admit that he was curious about both Princess Elenei and Princess Argella. He heard many a story about the absent princesses, most notably that they were driving forces in making King's Landing a better place for the common people. The only ones in the Baratheon family that gave "two shits about the common folk" as one man in Flea Bottom said to him.

And then there was the King, Robert Baratheon, who was nothing like a man of his uncle Ned's stories, except for his love of a fun time. Eddard was always vague about that, focusing more on his foster brother's martial powers when he talked about him. Meeting the King in person was a disappointment for Jon. Instead of a jovial, hammer-wielding giant of a "maiden's dream type of a Knight", as Eddard Stark described him – there was a lush of the man that cared not one iota of the Realm, his wife, even if she was a harpy or his children. He all but forgot about to having them. He acknowledged Jon himself more at court than he did any of his blood.

Stannis Baratheon, Master of Ships and Lord of Dragonstone. And the middle brother. He was a stern, uncompromising man. An unbending man. Jon had conflicting feelings about him – he liked him for his honour, but it seemed that Lord Stannis's unbending character was both a credit to the man and his largest flaw. If he ever got it in his head that it was his duty to rule, he'd do it no matter the cost to himself or others. His dealings with Ser Davos Seaworth were a prime example of Stannis's Nature. His wife was unlikable; she reminded Jon much of the attitude of Lady Stark when she dealt with him or with a serf or anyone that she thought was treating Jon as a son of the Lord Paramount.

Then there was Lord Renly, the youngest of the King's brother's and the Lord of the Storm's End, and his squire Loras Tyrell, the third son of Lord Mace Tyrell. Where one was, the other was not far behind – and there were whispers of their adventures together in bed. Considering that he saw them share an embrace and a kiss, Jon was inclined to give credit to those whispers.

Members of the Small Council were interested in the way of watching deceptively weak poisonous creatures that slowly leech the life out of the unwary. Some of them were decent people, trying to help the Realm, like Lord Jon Arryn who served as Hand of the King, but in truth, he guided the realm while the King was absent. And the King was always absent. Lord Arryn's right hand, Lord Tyrion Lannister, who when Lord Arryn was acting as King, Lord Tyrion acted as his Hand.

Then there was Varys – The Spider, the Master of Whispers. Who sometimes gave aid, with timely information. Jon was wary of the Spider, mostly because he didn't know what the man wanted. He had some kind of agenda, but for the life of him, Jon could not figure out what that was. And so Jon was wary and slowly built his own information network. Strangely or not so strangely – one of the maids of Princess Myrcella, Rosa, who was his informant, told him that he picked up the 'Silver' network.

It was raining ...

Some months past

Jon was blinking. "Silver Network?" He was puzzled, and a bit amazed, since it hadn't been a day since he made tentative inquiries with his own people about a certain individual, and now there was this slip of a girl, who caught him unaware in his own chamber with an offer of an information network.

Rosa nodded; her freckled face stretched into a smile and russet curls bouncing, "Yes M'Lord, and you have the blessing of the one who made it."

Now he was intrigued; he knew that this probably wasn't the Spider's work, because he doubted that the Spider would just give somebody his spy network. "Who?"

"I can't tell you their name, however, you can guess the person's identity," was the impish reply. "They said that you'll need it more than they do." Then her expression sobered, "Make no mistake, M'Lord, we will make reports to them as well as you. Unless your inquiries would be of personal nature; your mistress for example."

"I don't have a mistress."

"It was an example," Rosa sighed something sounding like 'you know nothing'.

Ignoring her muttering, he decided to move forward. "And you will tell me if I'm right?" Jon was sceptical. Would Rosa really tell him?

Rosa nodded again. "Aye, Silver commanded it and singled out two people we are to report to. You are one of them."

"Male or Female?" Jon asked, a suspicion forming in his mind as to who this person – or two could have been.

"Pardon, M'Lord?"

"This Silver – are they he or a she?"

"Cannot say that, M'Lord."

"Can you gave me a hint?"

"Silver refers to their hair colour. And Silver is on the island," then Rosa paused, "and Sable is in the desert."

"Estermont Island?" Jon paused as well. "And Dorne." If he was right and judging by Rosa's smile, he was.

"Yes," the red curls bobbed.

Could it be ... "It's Princess Elenei and Princess Argella?"

Rosa smiled. Jon took this as an affirmative answer, and then gave Rosa – who told him the key to the cypher that the Silver Network worked into their messages the name he wanted to be investigated – truthfully.

The name was Petyr Baelish for starters; the second name on Jon's list was Varys.

---

This is all for Part 1. Part two will be the continuation of Jon's PoV, where Lady Whent will tell the truth about his parentage.

Part 2 will also have Lysa Arryn's PoV, Bran's, and a couple of other people.