Second chapter of the week, as promised!
Enjoy!
Myrcella
She had two full years to prepare for her wedding to her sweet Trystane. They had traveled together, they had spent all of their time together for moons. She had learned truly how to love him and he had learned how to love her. It was true they were children at the time and it would have been inappropriate for them to marry right away, but it was not totally unheard of. In some political alliances, the parents or the guardians insisted on the wedding with brides as young as six though it was customary to wait for the bedding in those cases. Here, she has been given a week to prepare. Seven little days to get a wedding gown, prepare herself psychologically and get to know her betrothed. Daenerys was in a hurry, she wanted the wedding done and over so that what she saw as Jon's threat would be eliminated and they could focus on what she called his 'afabulations'.
It would have actually been easier if her betrothed had actually any interest to get to know her. He did not. She could understand that after learning who he was and that he would soon be married, he needed time to brood. But she needed time to see who he was. Sure, she had talked to him before but never expected to be stuck with him for the rest of his life. She wanted to know how he grew up, what the Wall was like, what man he was. She needed it to at least trust and respect him. But he did not give it to her. He avoided her, when they were forced to be in the same room, he eluded her eyes and left as soon as possible. Others came to see her. Sansa came often, she told him of Jon's childhood though she had not been close to him then. Arya would have been more insightful but when her future goodsister came to see her it was mostly to threaten her to make sure Jon would be well treated. It had made Myrcella scoff she had almost challenged the girl to a spar but then decided against it. It would not do to injure each other. Lyanna Mormont came to pay her respects and no doubt assess the future Queen in the North. Myrcella guessed the only reason the Northerners were not more hostile towards her was because they saw her as a victim of the Dragon Queen whom they hated. All the more cause not to spar with Arya, her appearance of a frightened and defenceless princess served her. Even Brienne of Tarth came to see her assuring her that no harm would be allowed to come to her once she was Queen in the North. Myrcella had stopped counting the number of times people had told her that.
The wedding gown proved to be a challenge on such short notice. There was no time to make one, she needed to borrow something for Sansa. Fortunately, the young Lady of Winterfell – it made Myrcella think that by all laws she would be taking the Lady of Winterfell soon, she worried Sansa would resent her – had something in ivory. A simple woolen gown, very northern, trimmed with white furs. It was by no way up to the standards of wedding gowns she knew, after all, it had been one of Sansa's simple gowns, but she honestly did not care.
"You look beautiful…" She heard the whisper behind her. She had put on the gown late in the afternoon, waiting for the last moment before the wedding which would take place at night as was the custom under the Old Gods. Jaime had come to take her to the Godswood, she knew… as her uncle, though she doubted anyone still believed this lie. Sansa who had helped her all afternoon arranged the last of her hair and exited the room with a last squeeze of the hand.
Once she was gone, Myrcella finally allowed the tears to flow. Jaime did not say anything but he accepted her in his arms when she flew to him.
Sansa
Jon was not a cruel man, Sansa was convinced of it. But forcing Myrcella to marry so soon after she had lost her beloved was cruel. And Daenerys Targaryen was to blame for that, amongst many other things. Sansa glanced at her discreetly. She stood on the other side of the aisle, looking highly pleased with herself in Sansa's opinion. Then, she looked at Jon… a Targaryen now… her brother was sombre, if not for the rest of the assemblee, no one would guess this was his wedding. I guess I looked the same for my wedding to Ramsay… She thought.
Myrcella finally arrived at the arm of Ser Jaime. She looked simple yet elegant and held her head high, as she always did since she had arrived back at Winterfell. Only Sansa could see her eyes were a little redder than they had been when she left her a few minutes before. Sansa would not blame her for crying, she did not deserve to be treated as she was.
"Who comes before the Gods this night?" Jon's friend, Samwell Tarly was the one conducting the ceremony. It had startled Sansa at first to see a man from the Reach insisting to perform the Old Gods rites. Then, Jon had explained to her that 'Sam' had said his vows of the Night's Watch in front of a heart tree. He was right, the Seven never listened anyway…
"Princess Myrcella of House Martell," Ser Jaime started, Sansa heard the gasps and saw the glare the dragon queen sent toward him – Well done, Ser Jaime, she thought with a smile – "a woman grown and flowered."
"Who gives her?" The fat boy went on.
"Ser Jaime of House Lannister, her uncle." I do not think anyone here truly believes that. "Who claims her?"
Jon took a small step, but Sansa saw him avoid the eyes of his bride. "Jon of House Targaryen, the King in the North." He announced. Sansa hoped she was the only one to notice the difficulty he had both with his name and his title…
The vows of the Old Gods were short. That was a small mercy. Sansa remembered how uncomfortable she had been during her first wedding. Standing next to Tyrion, repeating endless prayers and taking worthless vows that no one expected them to uphold. Though, seeing this wedding was still no easy task for her. It looked so much like her second one. She made the effort, for Jon and for Myrcella, she reminded herself. The promises they made only included protection and care, one Ramsay had broken as soon as he could with her. And to keep each other warm in the Winter… Sansa had never been cold, but it had nothing to do with her husband. The ceremony ended with a kiss, she had to applaude the bride and groom both for not flinching away from one another, though Jon averted his eyes from Myrcella as soon as it was over. Then, it was tradition for the husband to carry his wife inside. Sansa had always thought this part romantic, but she wondered why as she watched her brother carry her new goodsister inside. They did not look at each other and neither of them looked happy.
The wedding feast was pretty much what could be expected of the North in times of winter. The ale was there and the guests were drunk. The dishes were simple but filling and good, parsnip in honey, a whole roasted boar and oatcakes with jam as sweets. There was dancing, but the bride and groom did not partake. They both stared at nothing looking gloomier than ever, not that the drunken guest would notice or that the sober Queen of the South would care.
Jon resisted for two hours, after which he announced that his wife and his would retire to their chambers. Some crude jokes were made and some asked for a bedding but the couple left too quickly for them to do anything. Good, at least she will not get the humiliation of a bedding.
Myrcella
Good, at least I will not suffer a bedding ceremony. Myrcella thought as she followed her new husband to his bedchamber… their bedchamber now.
Jon opened the door and went in. She entered as well but after closing the door, she stayed there, not knowing what she was to do. Jon kept his back to her. He took off his boots but as she wondered if she should strip as well, she was surprised to see he stopped there. He remained in his breeches and doublet. Instead of taking off his clothes, he took out some furs from a trunk and scattered them on the ground. He arranged them and once he was satisfied, he took off his doublet though again, he stopped. He sat on the furs and finally looked at her.
"You can take the bed, my Queen, I will sleep here." He told her.
She was too shocked to answer for a few seconds until she succeeded in composing herself. "You are not bedding me?" She asked in a small voice.
"It is quite clear you do not want me to so no, I won't." Myrcella did not know why, but she felt slightly insulted by that. Maybe because no one had really asked her what she wanted in this mess.
"The Queen will not take that lightly…" She replied coldly.
"You are the Queen." He looked at her in the eyes for the first time since she had stood next to him while he told Daenerys who he was. "By marrying me, you have made Daenerys give up her claim to the North."
"I have also promised to give her an heir, to give both of you an heir in fact." She thought of the irony. "I do not see how I could do that if you will not bed me." She snarled sarcastically.
"I do not care for an heir!" He told her.
Myrcella wanted to cry. She was tired, she missed her daughter and most of all, she was sick of being the pawn of people who played the game worse than her. She had enough. "Well I do! I need an heir, the Realm needs an heir. You are the King in the North, you cannot act like a rogue little boy, like a bastard anymore! You will bed me whether I have to force you or not." He was so surprised by her snapping that he did not even think of turning his widened eyes away as she started to undress leaving everything a mess on the floor.
Only when she started to walk naked toward him did he react. He got up. "Myrcella please… I do not wish to do that to you…" He told her.
"Do what to me? You have done nothing to me! You are as much a victim of this as I am… But we have to make do with it now, we are bound for life, or have you forgotten you vows already?" She challenged him.
"Of course not, but you need…" She did not let him finish.
"What I need is to have Trystane back. What I need is to hold my daughter in my arms. Considering that I cannot have that, then, at the very least I need my husband to give me some comfort. I need a family. You can give me a family." She told him intensely. She could see his reserves dissolve.
She reached him. He did not protest when she stripped him, nor when she led him to the bed. He did not need much encouragement, at least his body desired her. But there was sadness and shame and guilt in his eyes as he finally entered her. She could not bear to look at his eyes, so she looked to the side and waited. It was awkward and gave her no pleasure. After a few uncomfortable minutes, she felt his seed flow inside of her.
He rolled off of her body panting. They stared silently at the ceiling until she heard him talk. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
She turned to her side to look at her new husband. "What for?" She asked.
"For this… I know how uncomfortable you must have felt." He said with obvious embarassment.
"You will get better." She replied. "I do not blame you… for this…" She added.
"But you blame me for other things?" He picked up her hint.
"Why did you avoid me all week? When we talked before I had thought you enjoyed my company."
"I do." He finally turned to her.
"Then why? Why did you leave me all alone thinking you hated me?" His eyes widened, it was clear he had not thought of that.
"I… I could never hate you Myrcella… I just thought you needed your space that you wanted nothing to do with this marriage." He explained.
"I wanted to get to know you! With… with Trystane I had two years, but it was arranged as well. I just wished to get to know my future husband." She felt pitiful.
"I'm sorry." He whispered to her again. "Maybe we can make up for it now…"
"I would like that." She smiled.
They asked each other many questions. By the end, she thought that maybe she would not be completely miserable after all. Though she had not dared to ask her most important question. Where had he got those hideaous scars all over his chest? She had seen wounds before and with those, he should be dead.
Tyrion
"Your Grace?" Tyrion entered Queen Daenerys' solar after the feast.
"Lord Tyrion!" She greeted him cheerfully. "Is it not wonderful? The Realm is finally united." That was what she believed, but if anything, she had made the North hate her even more. All the lords and ladies had seen how unhappy Myrcella and Jon had been. It would not surprise Tyrion if the South also demanded to have the young couple as their rulers. They would be much more loved than her.
"Jon and Myrcella Targaryen are still King and Queen in the North, your Grace." He reminded her.
"They still need me for their so-called White Walkers." The Queen chuckled. "They will give me dominion here before long."
"I do not think…" He needed to say the truth to his Queen, but she did not let him.
"I will make Myrcella force her husband if I have to." She said dismissively. Tyrion knew then, there was no hope. He just prayed that his niece would not suffer too much from the dragon queen's plans. She will need to learn the game, he told himself. Once we get back to the capital, it will be easier.
"Was there anything you needed me for?" He asked politely, she had summoned him after all.
"Yes, I need you to get the confirmation from your niece that the marriage was consummated. We did all that for an heir, I remind you." She told him. He did not look forward to having this conversation with Myrcella. "Jon will not be a problem for you in this task, I am taking him with me."
"Taking him with you?" He did not understand.
"We will be flying to the Wall. My patience has its limits. If there is indeed a threat, I need to see it." She said with authority in her voice.
Tyene
Tyene had managed to remain idle for four moonturns. She had patiently waited for her uncle to do something. She had respected him as her liege. But now she did not want to wait anymore, she did not want anymore false promises. Her aunt had been murdered with her children in the capital and he had done nothing. He had settled for the mere excuses of Lord Arryn. When her father died, he called it no murder and though he agreed to a vengeance, Tyene was sure it was only because Myrcella wished it. And now, he did not want to lift a finger for Cella. But Tyene wanted to, she needed to help her best friend.
"You promised Myrcella that you would protect her daughter. There is nothing more and nothing less you can do to help her. Myrcella is the heir to the Iron Throne, she's very safe anyway." Her uncle reasoned with her.
"Do you truly believe that?" Tyene snarled letting the little princess play with her fingers. Arianne could sit up now and she babbled happily in her crib while her grandfather and her guardian argued. "You have not met the dragon queen like I have. She is selfish and unpredictible, I do not think she is truly mad but she is certainly playing the game like she was some drunkard in a porcelain shop!"
Prince Doran sighed. "If you do anything against her, how do you think she will react? I have no wish to see Dorne engulfed in dragonflame, no wish to see my granddaughter burn."
"Not even the Conqueror with his three dragons could make Dorne bend." Tyene shot back. Did her uncle truly think she would have forgotten the history of her House?
"At what cost? Thousands died. We could resist the dragon queen, I'm sure of it. But I'm less sure that I would survive or that you would survive or even Arianne." Tyene turned back to look at the little girl. She would start speaking soon, but who would she call? What would Tyene tell her when she says "mama" or "dada"?
"It's not fair." She said with resignation.
"Highborns are so privileged in many other ways. The world was not meant to be fair to us." Her uncle spoke soothingly. "But we can protect Arianne, we can be her family." He tried to smile. What a family they made. A crippled prince, an orphaned princess whose mother was half a world away and a bastard who only had place for revenge in her heart.
Jon
Myrcella had argued and stared and snarled when he told her that the dragon queen had ordered him to go with her North of the Wall to see the threat of the White Walkers for herself. His young Queen was quick to use the words he had had for her the previous night. He was King in the North and Daenerys could not order him around.
He agreed with her somewhat, but the southern queen needed to see the Army of the Dead. Otherwise he feared she would lose her patience and leave with her army and her dragons. Though he now had the hope that Rhaegal would stay with him. He had bonded with the green dragon somehow.
The "Queen" had decreed that they would leave as soon as possible. Jon had no idea how fast dragons could fly but he told his wife that he should not be gone more than three days. One day to reach Castle Black. One to find and see the threat. And one last to make the trip back.
Still Myrcella insisted on seeing him off. She accompanied them to the clearing where the three beasts rested with Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan, Grey Worm and Lord Tyrion. Shyly – more than he would like to admit – he kissed her cheek. She held his arm to prevent him from backing away and whispered in his ear. "I lost my first husband, I will not lose a second."
"I will be in the air and we have three fire-breathing dragons." Jon told her quietly.
"You were the one who told me the Night King should not be underestimated." She reminded him. In a way, he knew he should be glad that at least his wife seemed to believe him and his 'stories', as Daenerys said, of the Army of the Dead.
"I will be safe. I will see you in three to four days." He pressed another kiss to her cheek.
That was awkward wasn't it?
Next chapter: Jon and Dany go beyond the Wall.
