"The Honored Guest" Chapter 53 Let the Siege Begin
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Note: Surprise! Here is a rapid update. However, I am sorry. I promised that this would be the reunion, but that matter will have to wait until the next chapter. Our young lovers will have some problems to hash out, and the ugliness begins here. Their reunion is not meant to be all fluffy, as I originally planned, at least not initially.
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Lord Jon Connington gazed around the captain's dining pavilion, pondering how the dynamics had changed. A few days ago the atmosphere was hushed and lackluster, yet this evening the mood was light and the conversations were lively. Laughter was often heard. The change was due to the arrival of the Tyrell family and their retainers, and the news that the Tyrell army had been defeated.
The main dining table had routinely been populated by the serious leaders of Golden Company and the major bannermen of House Targaryen, and now they had been joined by several civilians, including a number of women, several of whom were beautiful and loquacious. The presence of women, especially good-looking, friendly, young women tended to remove any solemnity from a roomful of warriors. Lord Jon reflected how the same change had occurred at Harrenhal upon the arrival of Lady Nymeria Sand and her Dornish attendants, and Lord Stark and his party, which had included several sociable and animated young women. He had to admit that he himself was enjoying the change.
Seated at the main table now were Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and High Marshall of the Reach, his mother, Olenna Tyrell, and his beautiful daughter, Margaery. Regardless of his titles, Mace possessed a weak and obsequious mind, and it was his mother, Lady Olenna, known as the Queen of Thorns, who was the real brains and ruler of House Tyrell. Lady Margaery Tyrell, had recently and briefly been Margaery Baratheon, but her husband, King Joffrey, had died in an untimely manner at their wedding feast, and the marriage was unconsummated, and thus annulled.
House Tyrell was in the awkward position of having lost control of their army in a battle against the combined forces of General Obara Sand of Dorne and Lord Renly Baratheon of the Stormlands, and of having Mace, Olenna, and Margaery forced to flee the Red Keep for their lives following Joffrey's death. Even if they were not the target of the young king's probable assassin, they would surely bear the wrath of Joffrey's hotheaded and vengeful mother, Queen Cersei, who accused them of being implicated in his death. The Queen, though impetuous, was not wrong, as Lady Olenna had indeed plotted Joffrey's demise with the dangerous Sand Snake, Tyene Sand.
The Tyrells was now the 'honored guests' of Prince Aegon Targaryen, and as high-ranking prisoners, were being treated with the respect due good friends. Their presence signified that the Lannisters had lost their most important ally, and were deprived of much-needed supplies and soldiers. That knowledge also was a cause for the levity in the dining tent.
The main focus of attention was the recently wed and widowed Lady Margaery Tyrell, a beautiful maiden of ten and six namedays. Many would argue that Lady Margaery was the loveliest young woman in Westeros, and surely that was true in the dining pavilion that evening. Lady Margaery had been accompanied by almost a dozen ladies-in-waiting and handmaidens, most of whom were her cousins and noble companions. These pretty young girls, all cheerful and dressed in stylish, brightly-colored gowns, were scattered among the tables of nobles, and contributed to the festive mood.
The men in the pavilion found it hard to tear their eyes from Lady Margaery, as she was also dressed in a well-fitted gown, and possessed a delightfully voluptuous figure with wide hips, a narrow waist, and an admirable bosom, which was not-so-modestly revealed by her low-cut bodice. Her face was round, with plump cheeks, wide red lips, large doe eyes, and was framed by a cascade of soft brown curls. Those who professed that Lady Sansa Stark was the fairest maiden in Westeros, and many did, would have had to admit that, whereas Lady Sansa represented a form of sweet and innocent youthful beauty, Lady Margaery appeared to be much more womanly, and the movement of her hips, her sultry voice, and welcoming eyes all seemed to suggest that she was a maiden that would satisfy the desires of any red-blooded male.
Lady Olenna, that clever politician, had contrived to seat herself next to Lord Jon, and Lady Margaery next to Prince Aegon. The two youngsters were having an animated conversation when the Queen of Thorns leaned close to Lord Connington and said, "Don't those two look so nice together, Lord Jon? They are both beautiful and would make a lovely couple. They appear to be getting along so well already! What say you, Lord Jon, should we encourage them to form a close friendship, which may become something more?"
There were many things that Lord Jon felt like saying, but he chose to only reply, "Apparently Lady Margaery is made of stern stuff, my lady, as she does not seem to be mourning in the slightest for her recently departed husband. What a strong young woman, that she can quickly bury her grief and move on to the next available prince!"
The dowager seemed to be taken aback, and gave Lord Jon a shrewd look, acknowledging that she realized that he was wise to her machinations, and not a dunderhead like her son. She replied candidly, "My lord, mayhaps she does not seem to lament the loss of her husband, and we can both agree that marrying her to that loathsome Lannister turned out to be a very bad idea, but you surely see that Margaery and Aegon would be an excellent pairing. They definitely look the part of a royal couple, and her figure promises successful childbearing. Do not be fooled by Margaery's visage. She is not empty-headed, but has a clever and well-educated mind. She would be worthy consort for a king!"
Lord Jon also decided to be frank, "My lady, even though it has not been formally announced yet, I am sure your sources have informed you that Prince Aegon has given his heart to a Northern lass, and has pledged his troth to Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell."
Lady Olenna frowned at his words, and her indignant expression explained why she was called 'The Queen of Thorns'. "You are correct," she snapped, "I learned in the Red Keep that the Prince had befriended an uncouth and wild child from an uncivilized province, who wears the clothing of a boy and keeps a large wolf by her side. The Lannisters had even implied that she used magic to ensnare Prince Aegon's heart!"
"I assure you, my lady," Lord Connington smiled, "that although the description is partially true, much of it is exaggeration, and I seriously doubt that any magic was involved in the affection that developed between the prince and the younger daughter of the noble Ned Stark. Her mother is a Tully of the Riverlands, and Lady Arya may be free-spirited, but she not uncivilized." Lord Jon was surprised to find himself defending the wolf girl so vociferously. It is as I have feared when I first saw her with her father, he thought, the little urchin unconsciously worms her way into everyone's heart!
The Lady of the Reach was still fuming, "I still do not see why Prince Aegon, who is of a similar age to my granddaughter, would prefer a dirty child to Lady Margaery, a woman grown and prepared to bear him an heir immediately. I also understand that she has gone off to Dorne with that bastard harlot Nymeria Sand as her mentor, and if and when she does return, she will no doubt have the morals and experience of a prostitute!"
"More exaggeration, Lady Olenna," Lord Jon laughed, "Lady Arya's mentor is not the corrupt courtesan you imagine. It is true that Dornish women are raised with more independence and practical education than those in the rest of Westeros, but I assure you that Lady Nymeria has not been remiss in attending to the girl's formal education. She has written to me several times, and Lady Arya excels at history, sums, and science. Oh, and I have been informed that Arya has flowered and is blossoming into a lovely young woman, who," and he could not help but smirk, "could, by all accounts, outshine your illustrious granddaughter."
"Humph!" was all the Queen of Thorns would say, but continued to glare at Lord Connington as though her gaze could wilt him like a flower. But the old campaigner was strong, and was not a wimp like her son, Mace, and he did not flinch. Finally she addressed him with a feral grin, "Well, my lord, why don't we leave the two young people to their own devices, and we shall see if Margaery can replace this absent urchin in Prince Aegon's heart and mind. I still contend that she is a perfect match for him, and mayhaps she will prove me right." She knew that Margaery was clever and wily, and knew all the tricks to capturing a young man's attention.
But Lord Jon had the last word. "One more thing, my lady," he said in a japing voice, "I expect that Lady Margaery is skilled with her tongue, but does she have any experience with real blades? You see, Lady Arya has also become quite capable with a short sword and a dagger, and has a short temper. I fear that if she returns and sees Margaery wooing the Prince, blood may be shed."
Lady Olenna glared at her host one last time, and returned her attention to the plate in front of her.
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As Lady Olenna had surmised, Lady Margaery had every intention of capturing Prince Aegon's affection. Both women had realized early in their sojourn in the Targaryen camp how advantageous for the entire family it would be for Margaery to attach herself to the prince. Lady Margaery initiated conversations as often as possible during chance encounters at first, and had his extended attention during that first dinner, when she asked him about his time in hiding.
Actually, Aegon had fond memories of growing up in Essos. He was too young to worry about the price on his head, and instead was happy in his interaction with his mentors, Lord Jon, Septa Lemore, Half-Maester Haldon, and Ser Rolly. Each served a role in preparing him to return to Westeros to conquer his enemies and seek revenge for his murdered family, and as he grew up he was confident that becoming the ruler of the land was in his future.
The prince spoke for a long time about his pleasant experiences in Essos, and Margaery asked leading questions to keep him talking and content with the sound of his own voice, occasionally commenting on any event that she could relate to her life. Prince Aegon quite enjoyed his conversation with the agreeable and intelligent young woman, and felt strangely comfortable in the presence of her large, expressive eyes and soft brown hair. He suppressed the urge to stroke her long chestnut locks.
For her part, Lady Margaery was impressed with the young prince. As he spoke, she realized that he was not just a pretty face with an empty head, but an intelligent and scholarly boy, with a sensitive and compassionate nature, a lover of the fine arts, and a determination to be a worthy ruler. The ambitious young lady was practical, and briefly worried if he was too nice, and if that quality would prevent him from leading an army. But she recalled that his father, Prince Rhaegar, was as praised for his love of poetry and music as he was renowned for his power of command on the battlefield.
She realized that he was the opposite of handsome King Joffrey, who was self-centered, conceited, jealous, mean, vicious, cruel, and greedy – all the bad Lannister traits, and if the rumors were true, he was pure Lannister. It did not help that his lady mother encouraged his evil behavior, and possessed many of those traits, herself. Lady Margaery was relieved to be far removed from that awful family and in the presence of a noble youth who was almost too good to be real. She made up her mind to use all her considerable charms to make him fall in love with her, or failing that, convince him that marrying her was the best course of action. With the wealth of the Reach behind her, she was a very confident young woman.
As the siege of King's Land began, there was little to do besides staying out of the range of the Lannister bowmen and catapults on the parapets of the walls, and blocking the access roads. Prince Aegon had much free time, and Lady Margaery, having determined their common interests, sought out his company. His favorite pleasure was to find a quiet spot in the woods and practice his harp. Aegon played old favorites and also wrote his own songs. Margaery had a voice as melodious as a little bird (of course), and she often made requests, singing along harmoniously and gazing at him with adoring eyes, placing her hand on his forearm. She would smile sweetly when they finished a number and comment on how well he had played and that they made beautiful music together. Aegon began to enjoy their duets.
Like the prince, Lady Margaery was also a lover of romantic literature, and had studied the classic tale of Florian and his Jonquil extensively, among others. Aegon found that he could spend hours reviewing these stories with Margaery, covering every detail, interpretation, and analysis. One afternoon, while discussing the passionate love affair shared by Queen Naerys and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, both of whom were fabled ancestors of Prince Aegon, Margaery moved in closely, and without thinking, he began to stroke her long and lovely brown hair. She murmured, with wide doe eyes, "You may kiss me if you wish."
The lonely prince was sorely tempted to do so, as she was close enough for him to feel her soft breath on his face, and her ruby lips were so inviting. He hesitated, but she did not, moving swiftly to press her mouth against his, and before Aegon knew what was happening, they were embracing tightly and tangling tongues, moaning softly with desire. Aegon struggled to remain in control of his senses, and soon broke the kiss, but Margaery would not let him draw back, and in a moment their embrace became tighter, their kisses more ardent, and the girl began to press her curvaceous bosom against his chest.
Aegon finally broke free, panting heavily, as his guilty conscience began to shout for attention. While still in her embrace, he created some distance between their torsos, and in doing so, happened to glance down at the upper curve of her shapely breasts, always partially exposed by the low-cut gowns she favored. Once again he hesitated but she did not, seizing his hand and gently placing it on her exposed skin. Aegon marveled at how soft she felt, and the sensation reminded him of another feminine form he longed to fondle. "Ah, I see you like that," Margaery ventured, "would you like to see my breasts, mayhaps hold them?" and began to unlace her bodice, which was bound so tight that merely opening the first bow revealed a glimpse of deep and inviting cleavage.
The overstimulated prince was torn between impatiently grasping the bodice and ripping it open to suck on the delicious teats he was sure were hidden beneath it, and halting the action before it became too late to withdraw. His conscience reminded him that there was another set of mysterious breasts that he was patiently waiting to worship, and he finally regained control, gasping, "Lady Margaery! We must stop! I have given my heart to another and our behavior is becoming unseemly! I enjoy your company but it would be wrong to continue this intimacy!" With wide eyes and a heaving bosom, he broke their embrace, and stood back, wildly combing his fingers through his hair in distress.
Now, all of a sudden, Lady Margaery's gaze hardened and she coldly stated, "If you tell me that you are rejecting my love because of Arya Stark, I must inform you that you have misplaced your affection!"
Aegon stared at her. "What do you mean?!"
"My dear brother, Loras, is presently in the camp of the Dornish army and has frequently seen your beloved," she seemed to spit out the word 'beloved'. "He writes to me often and has mentioned that Lady Arya has been spending much of her time in the company of Lord Ned Dayne of Starfall, and the sounds emanating from his tent at night would convince any witness that some serious fucking, pardon my coarse language, is going on inside!"
Aegon shouted, "I don't believe you! Arya would not do that!"
"Face the truth, my prince," Margaery argued, "you have been parted from her for a long time, and like her promiscuous Dornish companions, she has been sampling all the available male members she meets. 'Lady' Arya (and 'lady' was pronounced contemptuously) has moved on, and no longer loves you!"
The obviously distraught prince shook his head in disbelief, "That cannot be true! Arya has always been honest with me, and would have told me if she no longer loved me."
"Believe what you want, if you insist on being so gullible," Margaery actually seemed to enjoy watching Aegon squirm with discomfort, "but they have even been seen embracing in public, and your intended's hair is frequently disheveled and her lips puffy. The Dornish harlots are so wanton that they sit at breakfast sucking on sausages as if they were cocks!"
Aegon's mind was reeling from Margaery's scornful words, and shook his head again, "No, I refuse to believe that Arya is faithless. I must go and think on what you have said. There must be another explanation if what Ser Loras has told you is true." He stumbled away to his pavilion, almost dragging his precious harp on the ground.
Lady Margaery tried to placate him. "I am sorry to have distressed you, my prince, but I felt that you deserved to know the truth. Please come to me when you accept this tragedy, and I will do my best to comfort you and help you deal with your loss."
He looked back briefly and nodded silently, tears streaming down his cheeks.
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Lord Jon noticed that Prince Aegon had not come to dinner that evening. The lad was not a glutton, but loved his food, and rarely missed a meal. He also noticed that Lady Olenna and Lady Margaery were sitting off by themselves, immersed in an intense conversation. Lady Ashara came up to him and said with a troubled expression, "Something is amiss, but I am not sure what is going on." Jon nodded and decided to check the prince's pavilion.
He was surprised to find the young man sitting in a chair, weeping into his hands. Alarmed, Jon asked anxiously, "Did someone die?!"
The prince shook his head, raised his reddened eyes to his mentor, and told him all that Lady Margaery had related to him, and desperately inquired, "Could any of this be true?"
Lord Jon was not sure how he should answer. As promised, Lady Nym had sent many ravens detailing Arya's education, both with the maester and with weapons instructors, and the bold Dornish woman had also expressed no reservations about her apprentice's experiences in the erotic arts. However, she assured Jon that Arya made every effort to preserve her maidenhead and not dishonor her family and the prince. He carefully addressed the sensitive boy, "I suspect that the inquisitive wolf girl has been kissing some boys, and mayhaps been somewhat intimate, but I doubt that she has been as wanton as Lady Margaery has implied. We will only know the truth when she joins us here and you can ask her in person about these rumors."
Prince Aegon nodded sadly and picked up his harp.
The prince did not leave his tent the next day, but the day after that Lady Margaery found him at his favorite place in the woods, sitting on a stump and strumming a dirge on his harp and singing sadly. She approached him and wrapped her arms around him in an embrace and said, "I am sorry that Lord Jon could not offer proof that the accusations were false, and I am sad that you are suffering so."
He laid his head on her bosom, which was conveniently at the same level as his tear-streaked face, and sighed. Margaery murmured, "Let me console you." She was prepared today, and with one pull of a ribbon, her magnificent breasts sprang free of her bodice, right into his face. The boy was amazed and had to touch them. The round globes felt surprisingly heavy and luxuriously soft in his hands, and appeared as impressive as those of his beautiful cousin, Lady Nymeria. He welcomed the large pink teats into his mouth, first one and then the other, and Margaery whispered, "Yes, they are yours to enjoy. I only want to help you forget your sorrow." She pressed her bosom tightly to his face and buried her hands in his hair, kneading his scalp.
Aegon did as he was told, and worshipped her breasts, realizing that a tenting in his breeches had occurred in response to Margaery's attention. She moaned softly as he sucked, and taking one of his hands, guided it underneath her gown and placed it over her damp smallclothes, panting, "Do you feel what you are doing to me? I am yours to command, your grace!"
Her bold action startled the prince, and he abruptly removed his hands and mouth from her inviting body, sputtering, "Lady Margaery, forgive me! I did not mean to take advantage of your friendship! We must not behave thusly!" and he hastily tried to secure her bodice, confining her wet breasts with their peaked teats under the cloth.
"Do not fret, my prince, you have not taken any liberties that I would have denied you, but I know you are upset and confused, and will not torture you any longer," she demurely responded, while slowly relacing her bodice. The clever girl smirked to herself, In a few days, he will be putty in my hands! She left him in the grove, making sure that her womanly hips swayed in the most inviting way as she walked away.
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Having concluded all their preparations, the Dornish army set out for King's Landing. The Tyrell force had been disarmed, and the conscripts, mainly farmers, villagers, and craftsmen, had been allowed to divest themselves of all soldierly trappings, and return to their homes in the Reach, where they were an important part of the economy. The remaining captured soldiers dared not cause any problems, as the major members of their ruling House were the 'honored guests' of Prince Aegon.
The assemblage was able to move quickly since they now traveled on the roseroad, and not overland, and General Obara, studying her maps, concluded that the main body of the army, consisting of wagons, livestock, foot soldiers, and captives, would need a week to reach the capital, whereas the mounted warriors on their sand steeds, could be there in two days. The general announced that she was leaving one troop of cavalry to travel with the foot soldiers and wagons, in case of an unlikely attack from renegade Stormlanders, and the rest would immediately set out for King's Landing and link up with Golden Company.
Lady Nym, Sarra, and Arya were very excited as they began the last leg of their journey, but Arya and Lord Dayne, riding within sight of each other and making eye contact, knew that this was their last opportunity for affection before joining the Prince's host.
Since the three-orgasm night, they had performed the 'couples kiss' several additional times, but were too busy preparing for the trip to the capital to spend much time together, and that intense evening had worn them out and sated much of their mutual desire.
However, this night was to be their last chance to share intimacy, and both youths wanted to take advantage of the occasion. Arya felt guilty knowing that Ned was extremely fond of her, and she was about to callously throw him over for her Prince, but she knew that it would not be right to deprive him of one last night of passion. She also felt guilty knowing how much she looked forward to a lustful night, too. Lady Nym had assured her that there was nothing wrong with her persistent quest for erotic satisfaction.
"Those frigid septas in most of Westeros have convinced the women there that it is sinful and wanton to enjoy sex," she assured her apprentice, "but women are no different than men in that attribute, and amorous frustration does not aid the healthy mind. Men will seek to marginalize you politically based on your gender, but you are a Sand Snake now, and must be bold and refuse to be cowed even when they try to discredit you. It is difficult to be so forthright, but you are strong, and I expect you to confront the hypocrites. I am proud of you!" Lady Nym gazed at the she-wolf as she spoke, thinking, she is so young to have such a challenging task, but if anyone can do it, Arya can! Nym reflected how her father Oberon, an older and experienced man, had succumbed to her will.
After the pavilions were constructed, and dinner was over, Arya waited until dark, and quietly crept to Ned's tent, avoiding any prying eyes. He was waiting nervously, and embraced her as soon as she entered, murmuring into her ear, "This night would be impossible to bear if I did not see you one last time." Arya leaned up to kiss him and they tangled tongues, and she became aware of his eagerness for he immediately started massaging her breasts and squeezing her teats as they kissed.
When they came up for air Ned took the initiative to loosen her robes and let them drop to the floor, attacking her breasts with his mouth, first saying, "I love your breasts, I fear that I think about them all day," and began to suck and bite, sending shivers through her body and a fluttering in her groin. As he favored her teats with quick, brief love bites, she felt her smallclothes becoming very damp, and she wanted his attention, drawing one of his hands to fondle her mound.
That was not enough for the hasty boy, and he quickly loosened the laces of her smallclothes and slid them down her legs, then urged her to sit on the edge of the bed. Ned kneeled on the floor between her open thighs and stared into her inviting and pink center. Then he picked up her discarded and wet smallclothes and held them to his nose, inhaling deeply. He captured Arya's gaze and smiled, "I'm going to keep these to remind me of our time together."
Arya grinned and replied, "Sarra won't be happy. I felt girly today and borrowed them from her. Even though they fit Sarra perfectly and are large on me, I like the way they feel."
Ned took a closer look and realized that they were dainty and delicate, of sheer linen with cute lacy edges around the leg openings and waist.
The wolf girl added, "They were made by Lady Nym's skilled seamstress, Victoria."
Lord Dayne grinned back, "I will value them even more so, and mayhaps I can somehow repay her." Now he turned his attention to her inner folds, stroking them gently and moving his face closer to begin kissing, and his voice sounded muffled because he was so close, as he told her with obvious reverence in his voice, "I love your sex. I love your smell. How can I go on without tasting you every day?"
Arya was becoming uncomfortable as he lamented the unavoidable end to their trysts, and she felt even guiltier for allowing their relationship to become so important to the romantic young man. However, that did not stop her from enjoying the exquisite sensation of his lips and tongue as they heightened her pleasure. Reflecting first on her mentor's words, she closed her eyes, and let her mind wander, thinking about the next evening, when no doubt she would be among her old friends again. She laid her head back and allowed her center to pulsate, matching the rhythm of his vibrating lips, and sighing with contentment at their delightful intimacy. As she was immersed in her faraway thoughts, Ned's tongue probed the perfect place in her slit, and his thumb circled her nub at the right moment, and she came rapidly and explosively, exclaiming, "Oh, Aegon!"
Ned's head jerked up to stare at her, his hair disheveled, his mouth dripping with her juices, his fingers still entwined in the soft curls of her mound, and he repeated with frustration in his voice, "OH, AEGON?!"
The she-wolf turned bright red, and she began to apologize profusely, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know why I said that!"
But Lord Dayne gave her a sad expression and said, "Well, I know why. I think we should stop now," and he stood up, looking down at her morosely.
Arya was desperate to make things right again, and pleaded, "I really am sorry! Shall I give you the Lady's Kiss? Mayhaps that will make things better," but when she reached into his smallclothes, his cock was limp and retracted.
Ned confirmed the disposition of his readiness by saying, "No thank you, I find that I am no longer in the mood. You should probably get dressed. Here are your robes."
Anxiously, she asked, "Do you still want to keep my smallclothes?"
With a sigh and a look of despair, he picked them up again and took one last deep sniff and handed them to Arya, saying, "Nae, it would serve no purpose. Here, I don't want Sarra to find them missing."
After she silently dressed, Arya quietly stated, "You don't have to walk me home. I am going to slip quietly through the shadows. It will be easy."
He only replied, "All right," and kissed her on the top of her head, stroking her hair just a little.
Before she turned to go, she gazed at him with regret and repeated one more time, "I really am sorry, Ned," but he was not even looking at her.
When she returned to her pavilion, Sarra immediately knew something was wrong. "What happened?" she asked.
Arya blushed again and said with embarrassment, "As Ned was giving me the Lord's Kiss, I shouted, 'Oh, Aegon' at a most inappropriate moment."
Sarra tried to look concerned, but then her eyes sparkled and she clamped her hand over her mouth, but could not help but start laughing hysterically.
Lady Nym had been sleeping soundly, but now looked up and asked, "What is going on?"
Desperately trying to stifle her guffaws, Sarra choked out, "Arya called out Aegon's name just as Ned made her come with his tongue," and started laughing again.
The Sand Snake joined in laughing, and Arya looked annoyed, snapping, "It really isn't that funny!"
"Not to worry, sweetling," Nym sniggered, "I have done that about a half dozen times myself." She yawned and rolled over, "It won't be the last time you do it, either."
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The Dornish party approached King's Landing late in the afternoon, and when they discerned the Targaryen banners waving high over pavilions, Lady Nym, Sarra, and Arya could not help but impatiently spur their horses, and gallop to the camp. They ordered their tent to be set up post-haste, so they could clean up and change clothing, and then seek out their friends. Arya was excited to see Aegon again, and at first thought to show him her new warrior clothes, but then decided to get pretty in silk robes. She asked Sarra for help, and the older girl laughed, saying, "You are acting like a simpering fool."
Arya didn't care, she rushed into the camp, looking for familiar faces, and saw Duck first. The large man smiled when he saw her, but then his expression became uneasy. He greeted her with a hug, and when Arya asked, "Where is the prince?" Duck answered vaguely, "Oh, he is around here somewhere. He is usually practicing his harp in the woods around this time of day."
She walked in the direction that Duck had roughly indicated, and as she approached the trees, she saw two people walking her way. Her heart leaped when she recognized Prince Aegon, but she felt a chill in the pit of her stomach when she realized that there was a woman holding his arm and smiling prettily at his face, and he was smiling back at her.
Totally confused by the scene confronting her, Arya thought, what in the seven hells is going on here?!
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Note: So, they finally reunite in the next chapter, but it won't be pretty. There are some serious issues.
Alluding to certain thoughts of Jon Connington, GRRM at one point suggests that Margaery has a similar look to Lyanna Stark.
