the sword in the darkness
DISCLAIMER: Every character mentioned and anything in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to George R. R. Martin. I own nothing except the writing.
A/N: I don't know why this one turned out pointlessly long, but oh well.
24. figure
Fury spread across Aegon's face. "What do you mean, no? Have you forgotten your place? I am your king."
And just a moment ago you were insisting you were my brother. Jon's lips thinned and he sat back in his seat, fisting his hands. "I said, your Grace, I do not wish to be wed." Not to her, no. I am not a Targaryen, not truly. Do not make me do this. "She was my half-sister," he reminded the figure across from him.
"She is your cousin now, no more a sibling," Aegon said, as though that made much of a difference, his brows furrowing and crossing his arms over his chest. "Lady Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell, now that Brandon and Rickon Stark are dead. If you marry her, you would be Lord of Winterfell. From what I have heard of her, she has a pleasant nature, beautiful, and young, and surely able to bear you sons as well."
I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. Jon remembered saying those vows long ago, and he had never imagined that he would be where he was now. But Aegon and Daenerys had insisted that he had died once, that his vows had been completed and fulfilled, that they held no power over him now, that he would be a useful ally to them. He had a duty to family, they said. Never mind his protests that he was not made for a life of politics, had disdain for it, that they would be better off having Tyrion Lannister as Hand.
"You are Prince Jon Targaryen now," Aegon continued. "You are expected to marry, and currently, you are mine and Daenerys's heir. Should we die before we get the chance to have children of our own, you are our heir. You would have to marry sooner or later, and what better option than to bind the North to our cause with you? You grew up there – the minor lords would sooner have you than a Southern man."
Jon's half-brother's argument made sense, but he did not intend to yield. He shifted in his chair. "Sansa went through a terrible experience when betrothed to Joffrey. I do not think she would be agreeable to another arranged marriage." He recalled Arya telling him something about Sansa being involved with Willas Tyrell, when she was in Highgarden and had escaped the clutches of Petyr Baelish in the Vale. Tyrell's nice enough, at least, and he would be good to her, despite that leg, Arya had said. Not like stupid Joff.
"She will have to agree," Aegon insisted stubbornly. "She bent her knee to the crown." He scowled. "You will not mistreat her, and you have been acquainted before." He turned, abruptly. "I will hear no more on this." His tone was final, and he stormed out.
Jon clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth, and he slammed a fist onto the table in front of him.