A/N: Here we go folks, the last chapter of part one! More info on the sequel at the bottom!
Guest: Yes, both Aegon and Sansa are naive, but there will be plenty opportunity for them to learn. Good King's aren't born, they're made. If Aegon is sensible, he'll be following Robb around like a shadow, and taking advice from many quarters. To be a decent King he needs a good council around him. He has good intentions, he just needs to wise up a little bit.
Right-ho folks, on we go!
:)
L
Sansa was nervous as she made her way towards the chambers where Roslin was waiting for her. Her good-sister had asked her to luncheon, and Aegon had urged her to accept the offer and get to know the new addition to her family. Roslin had been nothing but nice to her so far, but since the end of the council meeting earlier in the week they had barely had any interaction. If Sansa was honest, it was probably more her fault than the fault of Robb's wife. She felt completely torn, wanting to support Aegon in his quest for an allegiance, but not wanting to anger Robb by siding against him. It was not a position she had enjoyed being in, so she had kept to her rooms for the most part, only really seeing her mother, since she had promised not to speak of the ongoing negotiations. Arya had also spent time with her, and again, they had neglected to speak of the potential rift developing between Robb and Aegon.
Somehow, Sansa had imagined that Roslin would want to talk about it, and she was wary of it because she had absolutely no idea how to explain her inner feelings. Roslin seemed like a lovely woman, but she also seemed to be incredibly clever. She had spoken up in the council meeting far more than Sansa had imagined she would. Her mother had explained later that Roslin had ruled almost single-handedly whilst Robb had been recovering, and was very politically minded. Sansa had relayed the information to Aegon later, and then had been unable to sleep that night over worrying whether she had done the right thing. Roslin made being queen look easy. Cersei made being queen look easy, Sansa could grudgingly give her that. She wasn't so sure that she possessed that same effortless grace though. Though she had grown in confidence, she still felt as though she bit her tongue more often than not.
She closed her eyes and tried to push the negativity away, pausing outside Roslin's chambers and taking a deep breath before knocking. Roslin called for her to come in after a moment, and Sansa did as she was bid, the smile her good-sister sent her immediately putting her at ease. Perhaps that's why she was so good in council, because she had an inexplicable warmth that you couldn't help but be drawn into. "Come and sit down," Roslin urged her, "you are just in time, the maids have just come and left us some hot tea and lemon cakes. Your mother said they were your favourite."
"They are, thank you," Sansa said, smoothing her skirts before she took the seat opposite Roslin. "I can't help but feel as though you have been avoiding me," Roslin said, her tone light and un-accusing as she poured out two cups of tea. "Not you, exactly," Sansa said awkwardly, and Roslin sent her and understanding smile. "It isn't the easiest of situations," she conceded, "I imagine Aegon has been as difficult to live with as Robb has been these past few days."
"He has been rather distracted," Sansa admitted, "sometimes I wonder if he even notices that I am in the same room as him." Roslin smiled at that, passing her a cup of the tea. "Robb has been the same," she told her, "but I have sent him out to the tiltyard for a few hours. He can't think being cooped up here, I think he just needs to savage a few training mannequins and clear his head. It really is a struggle for him to know what to do for the best, Sansa. Robb has wanted to go home for so long, and he wants to do what's best for the people. You must realise that prolonging this war will cost even more lives, mean even fewer men get home to their families."
"I do realise that," Sansa replied, "but Aegon isn't asking Robb to do anything he wouldn't eventually have to do anyway. He would never be able to settle knowing the Lannisters are still in power, and Stannis is still declaring himself king." Roslin nodded at that, taking a sip of tea before she spoke again. "I know, but you are asking Robb to back Aegon for the throne, a man thought to be dead, a man with no proof of his real identity," Roslin said calmly. "I know you believe his tale, and false or not perhaps he would be a good king, but that doesn't mean that he is the right king," she continued, "there is more than just who sits the throne to consider. The Greatjon and the Mormonts have not yet retaken Winterfell, and we cannot just forget that we made a temporary alliance with Stannis. He will not take it well if we suddenly declare our allegiance to a Targaryen long thought dead."
"Who is the right king, then?" Sansa asked in frustrated manner. She knew damn well that there was no one else that her brother would even consider backing for the Iron Throne. Tommen was a Lannister puppet, and Stannis wanted to destroy the Gods. There was no question of Robb allying with either of them, so why would he not trust Aegon? "I don't know," Roslin said quietly, "but I know Robb won't back Aegon just because he is the only choice left to him. If he backs Aegon, it will be because he believes that he is the right man to sit the Iron Throne."
Robb hammered one last blow against the training mannequin before he sheathed his sword and wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. Roslin had been right, going out into the tiltyard and working out his frustration had been just what he needed to forget what was going on in his head for a little while. He had been going over the letters that Lord Karstark and the Greatjon had sent him only yesterday. They were cautious, urging him to think carefully and trust his own judgement, and that they would back him whatever he decided. He was touched by their loyalty, but still no closer to making a decision. Backing Aegon could be his biggest triumph or his greatest mistake, he just wished there was a way to find out which it was.
He huffed irritably, before deciding to head back into the keep and go up to the nursery. It seemed the only way he could achieve a calm state these days was by being with his daughter. Roslin eased him somewhat, but she also had the ability to talk, which he didn't always appreciate when he was trying to think. Bethany's incoherent babbling was much more agreeable to him at the moment. He knew he was being slightly unfair, that Roslin was only trying to get him to talk because she herself was worried. The trouble was he had no idea what to say to her, what to promise her. He had no idea what he was going to do, his head conflicting horribly with his heart. If only there were some way for him to come to the same decision.
"Your Grace!" a squire hailed him as he made his way across the courtyard, and Robb moved to meet him, seeing he had a letter clutched in his hand. "Thank you," Robb said briskly when it was handed over, turning it so see the sigil of house Mormont. Likely an update from Dacey or Maege. He hoped that it was all routine news, and not anything bad involving Stannis or the Wall. The only way to find out was to open it of course, and so he cracked the seal and unfurled the parchment. His legs almost gave out beneath him when he read the message. By the Gods. They had found him. They had found Bran. Before he could stop himself he was laughing, his hand clapping to his forehead in sheer disbelief. After all of this time he had almost given up hope of his brother ever being found. Now he was safe with his own men, and Olyvar and a guard of men would be taking him to Last Hearth to remain with Rickon until Winterfell was safe to return to.
Gods. He had to tell his mother. He set off at a brisk pace at once, only half looking where he was going as he scanned the rest of the letter. When he reached the entrance hall he stopped dead, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he read the words through twice more to be sure he was understanding them. The Reeds claim Bran has greensight. I believe that the boy, Jojen, is gifted with it – his eyes are unnaturally green. Bran has said little but he is insistent on one thing, that you must 'trust the dragon, but beware his shadow'. I don't know what it means, your Grace, if it pertains to this Aegon Targaryen or not, but Bran and Jojen both insist that it has been seen. That it is true.
Greensight? Gods. Robb wanted to name it false at once, but why would the Reeds lie to him? Their father had been one of his own father's greatest friends and supporters. Robb frowned deeply, thinking on the words that his brother had been uttering. If it did pertain to Aegon then it meant that Robb could trust him, something which he was grudgingly inclined to do. Then the shadow…it could only be Connington. The only time he was not one step behind Aegon was at night. Then again, it seemed that Robb was right to be cautious of the old knight. His head was aching with the effort of thinking what felt like a thousand different thoughts at once.
Most prominent in his mind was telling his mother. She needed this news more than the rest of them put together. Bethany being born and Sansa returning had eased her pain for a while, but more recently he had seen it resurfacing in her eyes. She had almost everyone here with her, but she was missing her two youngest sons. Knowing Rickon was safe made it easier for her to bear the separation, not knowing where Bran was or if he was even living had slowly torn her apart. She never said anything, but Robb could see it all too clearly in her eyes. Every time he met them he felt his own guilt rise higher in him. I should never have sent Theon to Pyke. It was too late now. Too late for regret. He had made his first mistake trusting him, and his second in trusting Bolton. He would not make a third. He could not afford to make a third, not now when he was so close to fixing everything he could possibly fix.
His mother's door came upon him quickly, and he knocked sharply, entering immediately when she called for him to come in. "This is a surprise," she said with a smile, and he held out the letter to her. "They found him, mother," he said simply, "or rather, he found them." Her eyes were wide with disbelief as she took the letter from him with shaking hands. One went to her mouth as she read through the letter. "Bran," she choked out, "oh, Bran, thank the Gods, thank the Gods for him." Robb stepped forwards and gathered her into an embrace at once as she let the tears fall. She clung to him, her body shaking with what he knew to be relieved sobs. "You'll be with them again soon, mother, I promise you," he vowed.
"Robb, what did it mean about greensight?" she choked out, pulling away from him and meeting his eyes. He could see the confusion mingled with fear, and he had no idea what to say to her. "I don't know," he said honestly, "I can only trust Dacey, and trust my brother." His mother nodded her head at that, her eyes going back to the parchment. "They say the crannogmen are more prone to it," she said shakily, "those who keep to the old ways…and the eyes, what she says about the eyes. I have heard it told before. Gods…Robb, will you heed what he says, about the dragon?"
"That I can trust Aegon?" Robb questioned her, and she nodded her head, to which he sighed. "Even if I can trust him, I cannot trust his shadow. You can guess who that is, can't you?" His mother nodded at that, and he sighed again. "I could never persuade Aegon to be rid of Connington, the man has raised him, been as a father to him. He is his most trusted advisor, if I were in his position and someone asked it of me…" Robb tailed off, the thought of coping without the Umbers or the Karstarks was not an inviting prospect. "I could not," he shook his head, "so how can I expect him to?"
"Robb, if you do not feel safe around this man how can you march with him?" his mother demanded of him, and he had no answer to that. "I don't know," he said honestly, "I can only hope that his respect for Aegon outweighs his ambition to hold power over all the kingdoms." His mother did not look placated with that answer, and Robb himself was unhappy with it. "Why not make it a condition of your allegiance?" she asked hopefully. "Aegon would choose the thousands you can give him over one man, surely?"
"No," Robb said, "no I don't think he would, and nor would I ask him to. Not without proof of Connington's ill intent." His mother looked distraught, and he knew without asking that she was thinking of Bolton. "Mother, I will be watchful," he promised her, "and Roslin is insisting I form a Kingsguard. Whatever happens Jon Connington will not be my end, I assure you of that. Now please, stop this worrying and have a drink with me. We ought to toast to Bran's safe return."
"Forgive my ignorance, but how do you know when you are having a green dream as opposed to an ordinary one? Or, are all your dreams green?" Olyvar asked Jojen as they trotted side by side along the road to Last Hearth. "They feel different, I can't explain it properly," the boy told him, "it's as though the edges are blurred differently to ordinary dreams. They can sometimes be difficult to decipher, sometimes the meaning is not clear until the events foreseen have passed." Olyvar hummed at that, considering his words carefully. "So this, dragon?" he questioned. "You are sure that the dragon represents a person, rather than an actual dragon?"
"That was Bran's dream, not mine," Jojen told him, "though I have had others where a dragon appears. Many dragons, and wolves, mingled together. I cannot tell exactly what it means. At first I thought it was war, but the feeling wasn't right. After Bran told me the dragon could be trusted, I imagined it must mean an allegiance, but that doesn't quite fit either. In some ways it does, but there is the added image of a tower, a faraway place I do not know of. The tower leaks blood, and secrets surround it. I try to get in but ten spectres keep me at bay."
"Wait, you try to get in?" Olyvar interrupted. "So you have some level of control, you can control how much you are shown? How far you delve into the future?" Jojen seemed to find his eagerness amusing, letting out a burst of laughter before he answered his question. "I cannot delve into the future at will, the dreams come upon me, sometimes I have some level of consciousness, and I can try and see images more clearly that I think have a greater meaning," he explained, "the tower, for example, I sense has more meaning than is clear to me, so I try and get closer to it. Inside it."
"But spectres block your way?" Olyvar checked with him, raising a brow. "Ten," Jojen confirmed, "sometimes I feel as though I can see their faces, but then they are snatched away before I can put a name to any of them. They are guarding a secret, I know it, and I cannot help but feel as though it is connected to the letter that my father gave us. I just can't find the missing piece that links it all together. The tower, the dragons, the wolves," Jojen shook his head in frustration, "there is something else I know it. Something missing. If I could only find that piece, I feel the whole thing will become clear to me."
"The letter is for Jon," Olyvar said hopefully, wondering if that would stir something in the boy's mind. "I know," he said heavily, "but try as I might, I cannot make him fit in the puzzle." Olyvar frowned, silence falling upon them for a long moment, as he sensed both of them were thinking hard. "Perhaps he will fit when you know the content of the letter," Olyvar said when he could think of nothing more helpful to say. "Bran thinks it reveals the name of his mother," Jojen told him quietly, glancing around to check that Bran was out of earshot. Olyvar did the same, seeing the boy further back along the line on Hodor's back, talking quietly to Meera who was riding at his side. "Perhaps it does," Olyvar said quietly, "Jon is a Stark, a wolf, perhaps…I don't know, perhaps his mother was a dragon?"
"I had thought of it," Jojen confessed, "and dismissed it. His mother could not have been a Targaryen, at least not one who was trueborn or known of. I don't think that can be it, though it would link everything, save the tower. Though…perhaps that was where his mother was from…or where she…" Jojen tailed off, and Olyvar understood well enough. "Died," he finished the sentence, and Jojen nodded his head. "But where does the dragon fit in if his mother did not have Targaryen blood?" Olyvar asked, frowning so hard in concentration that it was a wonder that he did not give himself a headache. "Unless…" he said slowly, a creeping sensation of dread working its way into his veins. "Unless?" Jojen prompted almost urgently.
"It was the other way round," Olyvar whispered, hoping that Jojen would just scoff at his ridiculous suggestion. Fall about laughing and tell him to leave speculation on his dreams to him. He didn't laugh. His expression was serious, and Olyvar swallowed hard. All his old history lessons were coming back to him now, the wheezy voice of his old Maester resounding in his head. Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna. He raped and murdered her. Lord Stark found her and returned her body to Winterfell. But did he not also return with a bastard boy, whose mother's name he never uttered? Robb had told him that himself, that his father would not hear talk of Jon's mother. That none of them ever dared ask him more than once. Could it be he never uttered her name because his sister had given birth to Jon after being brutalized by Rhaegar Targaryen? Olyvar could understand why such a thing would be too painful to bear.
"The Tower of Joy," Olyvar muttered before he could stop himself, and he heard Jojen take in a deep breath. "Lord Stark took six companions, and they were met by three Kingsguard," Jojen said, as though reciting word for word what his own Maester had taught him. "Only he and my father survived, they were too late to save the Lady Lyanna," he continued, "my father never spoke of it, he said it was too painful."
"Or perhaps he was sworn to secrecy," Olyvar speculated, and Jojen nodded his agreement. "Until Lord Stark's death," he elaborated, and Olyvar nodded his own head. "Ten spectres," Olyvar said slowly, "guarding a secret, Lyanna's secret, all the men who knew it are now dead. But the truth is in that letter." It was Jojen's turn to nod again, and Olyvar looked back at Bran once more in despair. "Jojen," he said quietly, "if this is true, if we are right. How in the name of the Gods are we supposed to deliver this news to Jon? Do you not think it cruel? Do you not think it would be more of a kindness that he never discovered it?"
Roslin tightened her grip on Robb's arm as they made their way down the hallway. "Are you certain about this?" she asked him in an undertone, and he stopped their progress, pulling her into a near-by alcove. "Yes," he said, stepping closer to her and placing his hands on her cheeks so she met his eyes. She did so gladly, seeing them set in conviction. That was what she needed to see, that he truly thought that this was the right thing for them. "Then you know I support you, if you're sure," she told him quietly, and he nodded, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers for a long moment. "Come on," he murmured when he pulled back, "before I forget myself." Roslin couldn't help but smile at that, a little tingle of desire running through her which she knew she would have to quell for now. It had been a long time since she and Robb had been able to be together properly, but her want for him had not faded. It seemed his own for her had not either, and that brought her a great comfort after the changes that Bethany had brought to her body.
She determined not to dwell on her illicit thoughts as she and Robb continued on down the hallway. Right now he required her to conduct her queenly duty, not her wifely one. She focused on their destination, again tightening her grip on Robb's arm. He seemed to understand her apprehension, reaching his free hand over to lay over hers. His touch soothed her, calmed her nerves and took her mind away from what he was about to do. She tried not to think about the fact that if all went as he said it would, she would no longer have his soothing touch. It would be away from her for far too long, and not just from her, but from Bethany too. That was harder. Roslin knew Robb's face, and she knew beyond doubt that he loved them. Their daughter could not know that, she was too young, she needed contact with those closest to her every day. She shook he head slightly, she could not day such a thing to Robb, it would break him.
They were coming to a halt again now, Robb's fist already rising up to knock on the door. Roslin's stomach clenched, part of her hoping that the occupants would not be there. There was no such luck. They were called to come in and Robb pushed open the door at once, pulling her through behind him. Roslin stood a step behind him and lay one hand on the small of his back as Aegon rose up from a chair and stood himself opposite him. She caught the apprehensive look in Sansa's eyes as she too rose up, moving to her husband's side, but not touching him. "I've made my decision," Robb finally spoke through the crackling tension, "I will march with you and support your claim to the throne, but -," he continued as Aegon smiled widely, "I have conditions."
"Name them," the fair man said at once, the relief in his tone obvious. "As I said before, I want an official treaty drawn up so we are all clear on who is to be king of which kingdom," Robb began, and Aegon nodded. "We do not march until Winterfell has been retaken and I can send my wife and family home," he continued, and Roslin swallowed hard as Aegon nodded again. "I would prefer Sansa went with them as well, my sister should not be anywhere near what we are going to have to do," Robb said softly, his eyes flickering to Sansa. Aegon seemed to look between them for a moment, clearly torn. Roslin guessed that he wanted Sansa out of harm's way, but that he also did not want to be separated from her. "That is a decision for my wife to make," Aegon finally said, and Roslin felt Robb tense under her touch. "It might be best that no one knows she is your wife for the time being," Robb said, and Roslin could tell it was uttered through gritted teeth.
"Perhaps you're right," Aegon said, the disappointment evident in his voice. "Finally, I do not seek a war with Stannis," Robb said, and Aegon frowned at once. "We had a truce at the Wall, a stalemate so to speak," he explained, "Stannis was promised another meeting with myself and the queen. Circumstances have changed, but I will honour what my queen promised him if he so wishes, and I will not have my men raise arms against him unless he strikes us first." Aegon looked the most uncomfortable with this request, but after a long moment he nodded his head once more. "Very well, I agree to all your conditions," he said, stepping a little closer to Robb. "Good," Robb said, closing the gap and holding his hand out. Aegon grasped it, and the two of them met eyes for a long moment. "I'll help you win your throne," Robb said, "but once you seat it, it will be your own duty to keep it."
A/N: And so ends part one! So, I really hope you enjoyed it, and you will read on into the sequel. It will be called United We Stand, and I will be publishing it in a few weeks. I'm going away tomorrow, and I will try and work on it on my travels and get a little bit ahead. Anyway, I am hopeful that I won't keep you waiting too long!
Catch you all in a few weeks, and thanks for reading! Hopefully see you for the sequel.
:)
