A/N: Chap 28 review responses are in my forums. Please also note that I will be taking a two-week hiatus over the holidays and will start posting again the first Saturday of 2022. I hope you have a safe and joyous holiday season.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Parley of Riverrun

On the morning after the Battle of Castle Black, Jon Snow snuck out of his bed and walked stiffly across the ice-crusted bailey to where the bodies were piled, awaiting burning. He found a shock of frozen red hair toward the top.

They'd placed her face-down on the pile with the other Wildlings killed. The freezing rain the night before encased her there. In a way, he was glad. His last sight of Ygritte was her staring down the shaft of an arrow at him, but unable to release. In that brief moment, he saw that she loved him, and his heart surged with an insane joy.

And then the blade from one of Stannis Baratheon's experienced, veteran soldiers sliced through her chest at the perfect angle to ensure a quick, clean kill. Her mouth opened and blood had spilled out, but still she looked at him until the life left her eyes. He continued to see that life fading in his mind, even days later.

The nicker of Bran's horse drew him from his thoughts. He looked over at his step-brother, who seemed to have woken from his half-dream state to examine the marshes of the Neck that spread out on either side.

Behind them, the newly restored and occupied Moat Cailin stood as a lonely sentry guarding the neck from any incursions from the south. Hopefully, if all went well, they wouldn't need it any more.

"I've seen her, you know," Bran said in that absent tone of his, as if his mind were on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms. "Rhaenys Targaryen."

"Oh?"

The young man smiled. "She's not pretty. Not like Sansa. But she is quite extraordinary. Beautiful, even. And powerful. I told you the Night King saw me through my vision? She did too."

Ahead of them, Robb rode with Sansa. The young king made a habit of selecting one of his liegeman to ride with them each day, and today was Lord Manderly. The rotund, red-cheeked man proved amiable company and several times had Sansa laughing.

"How can one be beautiful but not pretty?" Jon asked. "Are they not the same?"

"I suppose that depends on who you ask," Bran said. "I saw her after the firing of King's Landing. How she worked for endless days using her magic to heal the small folk. She gave the wife of a cesspit cleaner a hug when her husband died. Can you imagine mother doing such a thing? I also saw her leading her Unsullied across the ships of the Iron Fleet. Over three hundred Ironborn fell to her hands alone, Jon. She is not pretty, not like Sansa, but she is beautiful. Extraordinary."

Jon snorted. "Sounds like you're in love, little brother."

Bran actually blushed.

The response made Jon suddenly suspicious. "Soooo, when you touch a Weirwood, you can see the past or present?"

"Yes."

"You've seen her naked, haven't you?"

Bran shook his head even as his cheeks flared. "No! Not like...she swam. Sansa was with her, too. She swam with the village children and her dragons in the Stepstones."

Sansa must have heard her name because she let her own horse slow until she drew even with them. "Her swimming shift hid very little," Sansa noted slyly. "Did you see into her bed chambers?"

For the first time since his return, Jon saw an echo of their little brother of old when Bran sputtered. "No! I wouldn't! And...and even if I wanted to, her Shadowbinder cast protections on it."

"So you've tried, then," Sansa needled him.

"Once, maybe," Bran said. "Just trying hurt. My master corrected me, and rightfully so."

Behind them, the might of the North rode in columns, each led by the banner of their House. Five thousand men, a thousand of which were ahorse. Three thousand men at arms and another thousand archers. The supply train and camp followers added another thousand, with food animals and carts of supplies for the march.

It was a show of strength that paled in comparison to the forces the Queen could martial. There were another two thousand men waiting at the Twins, along with a flotilla of river barges that would take them down the Green Fork to the Crossroads Inn and the agreed site of parley.

Since they travelled to a parley rather than battle, Robb set a solid but not grueling pace. Ten hours of travel with a break in the mid-day, then camp, and then they would resume. The days quickly blended into each other as they continued their way south on the King's Road.

Or was it the Queen's Road now?

During camp that night, Jon saw how Robb looked forlornly north and couldn't help but laugh. "Come, brother, surely you can stand to be without your lady wife for a little bit."

Robb grinned-with his eye patch it made him look almost wolffish. Beside him, Grey Wind lounged over a ham-hock. Ghost was still gnawing on his. "Aye, but why would I wish to? I paid a dear price to marry for love, brother. If I had my way, I'd never part from her."

Though Robb sought to spend time with his lords during the march, that particular night his tent held only his two brothers. Until, that is, Sansa stepped in. "Your grace, are you pining again?"

Robb answered by tossing her a biscuit, still warm from the cookfires. She smiled as she caught it and settled down between Robb and Bran and stared into the brazier that warmed their tent. Jon couldn't help but smile to see them like that. "I'm surprised Arya didn't sneak out with us," Jon finally said.

"She tried," Sansa said. "She's not quite the warrior she wants to be. Not yet, anyway."

"She's with the camp followers," Bran said with a wry smile. "Old Bertie Three-Tooth the cook took her in, not realizing who she was."

Jon shook his head. "Should we fetch her?"

"No," Robb said. "Not yet, anyway. Maybe tomorrow."

"So, what else have you seen, Bran?" Sansa asked. "I'm sure there are many other ladies who don't have magic protecting them."

The young man's cheeks blossomed. "No. Though...I've seen father. As a young man. And Uncle Benjen and Aunt Lyanna. And... your mother, Jon. I saw where you were born."

It took a moment for that to percolate into Jon's mind. "You saw my mother. Was father there?"

"Yes. It was at the Tower of Joy. Your mother was being guarded by Ser Arthur Dayne himself, the Sword of the Morning."

Robb laughed. "Here that, Jon! Your mum was important!"

Sansa, though frowned. "Bran, Ser Arthur Dayne was a kingsguard. Why would he be guarding Jon's mother? She wasn't...was she a Targaryen?"

Bran shook his head, then looked intently at Jon. "He lied to protect you, Jon. To claim you as his son. King Robert would have had you killed, or the Lannisters would have. How could they tolerate the true-born son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark to live, when they were so sure their marriage was a rape? So, Aunt Lyanna made father promise to protect you, and he did so by hiding your true name."

"Bollox," Jon said. "Rhaegar was married!"

"He had his marriage to Elia Martell annulled," Bran said. "Though it was not necessary. Targaryens were known to take multiple spouses. They married before the High Septon, and nine months later you were born in the Tower of Joy, while Father and his knights fought three Kingsguard to save your mother. She died shortly after."

"A Targaryen," Robb whispered, unsure how to respond.

Jon shook his head, his heart roaring in his ears. "A Snow," he insisted. "More importantly, a brother of the Night's Watch. Even if it's true, I wouldn't be the only Targaryen in the Watch. Maester Aemon is also a Targaryen. Nothing's changed. I took my oath, regardless of who my parents were."

"Which is why I told you," Bran said. "Now that it won't cause you harm. But you deserved to know who your true parents were."

Sansa nibbled her biscuit. "That makes you Raenys's brother."

"Think of all the belated name-day gifts she owes you," Robb added.

"That I would owe her," Jon added. "And I don't know if you've noticed, brother, but I don't have much in the way of coin."

"Should we tell mother?" Robb asked.

"NO" Jon, Sansa and Bran all shouted.

Their king blinked, then laughed good-naturedly. "Aye, probably not the best idea."

They spent the rest of the night just speaking or enjoying each other's company, knowing their sneaky little sister was probably scrubbing pots.

~~QoaQ~~

~~QoaQ~~

The valley where the three forks came together in the Trident stretched out in green splendor before them. The barges carried them at a fair clip down the stream, cutting a week or more off their travel time.

This is where my natural father died, Jon realized. It was here, at the Battle of the Trident, that Robert Baratheon killed Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and set the stage for the end of the Targaryen Dynasty. They brought the barges to a halt where the great stone bridge spanned the Trident River.

On the far side, filling the entire river plain, was the army of Rhaenys Targaryen. He looked and saw Robb counting tents with a grim expression. "Twenty thousand, at least," he said.

"We're not here to fight, brother," Jon said.

"A good thing, I think."

The Tullys had gathered with those of their bannermen north of the Red Fork who had not already bent the knee or lost their holdings. It was a far smaller accounting than the Iron Throne's forces, numbering no more than five thousand. With the forces Robb brought, they might number ten all told.

The leaders of the North met in the Crossroads Inn to prepare for the next day's parley. Seeing the force arrayed against them, the atmosphere was somber. Jon stayed to listen for a time to Robb's advisors as they made contingency plans to attack or retreat. As a brother of the Night's Watch, Jon was not a part of those discussions, though.

Sansa, too, seemed not as interested in potential battle plans and drifted to Jon's side. "You don't think we'll fight?" he asked.

Sansa shook her head. "Rhaenys only fights when she has to. Did you read the report about the Hightowers of Oldtown?"

"Ah, yes. She arrived in the morning and had the city open and was feasting with Lord Hightower that same evening," Jon said. "I'm sure that huge black dragon of hers had nothing to do with it."

Sansa snorted. "Do you think it's time to fetch Arya?"

"Probably," Jon said with a laugh.

~~QoaQ~~

~~QoaQ~~

The King of the North and his entourage of twenty, including Jon Snow and Sansa Stark, gathered on the north end of the great bridge. Just across the river, a huge pavilion had been raised overnight. They could see tables within. The Targaryen dragon, red on black, rose in a banner on the south side of the tent. The Stark Direwolf banner rose in the North.

Though it was on the Targaryen side of the river, the Queen's forces were actually further from the tent than the northern forces, and on an open plain that would make any attempt at military action obvious.

They would see figures made small by distance standing patiently in front of the tent. There was no sign of the dragon queen.

"It's a power play," Brynden Tully said from the king's side. "Whoever arrives first is in the weaker position. Like as not she'll arrive on her dragon to intimidate from a position of power."

"What do you suggest?"

"I suggest the parley cannot start unless one of you goes first," Brynden said bluntly. "We called for it, therefore we go, your grace."

"So be it." Decision made, Robb kicked his mount gently forward and brought the train moving.

The weather was fair, but with the promise of storms from the brittleness in the air. As they rode closer, Jon could see some of the surcoats of those waiting to receive them.

"Dorne-Prince Doran himself, I dare say," the Blackfish told the king. "And that man there is Ser Baelor Hightower, Lord Hightower's heir and a knight I've yet to beat in tourney. A good man, in truth."

"Is that Tyrion Lannister?" Robb asked.

Jon looked to Sansa, who stared stonily forward.

"Aye," the Blackfish said. "She put him to work almost as soon as she captured him."

No one mentioned the fact that he was technically Sansa's husband, even if the marriage was never consummated. There were other nobles present from across the Crownlands, Stormlands and the Reach. Equal in number to those banners accompanying Robb.

Just across the bridge, a screeching howl sent a primordial shiver down Jon's back. A shadow passed over them, sending every eye skyward.

"By the gods," Jon whispered.

The dragon Temeraire had a wing span greater than most ships. Its body was lean and long, but immensely strong-looking. The head housed a jaw that could snap a man up in a single bite, and as the dragon banked they could see it looking at them. Atop its shoulders rode the queen herself, black hair whipping in the wind.

She banked the massive creature before leading it to the open grass next to the pavilion. Wings flared and wind flattened the grass as the dragon brought itself to a halt with another roaring screech. The creature lowered its head with startling tenderness, and remained in such position as the queen dismounted, and then fondly rubbed the dragon's jawline.

"That's a big fuckin' dragon," Greatjon Umber said.

Looking to where Jon's and Robb's direwolves stood with their hackles raised, Jon had to agree.

Beside Robb, the Blackfish grunted. "I'll give her this-she'll be arriving at the same time. A mark of respect."

Indeed, the queen reached the tent almost at the same time Robb did. Jon studied her, curious about the dragon queen who came from across the known world to take the Iron Throne almost without contest. For the occasion she'd dressed in black silk-oddly loose slacks that hung like a skirt until she walked, with a spectacular cloth of gold surcoat over a silken tunic. Instead of a crown, she wore an intricately made golden head piece with a large Ruby at her forehead. The gold laced through her hair, keeping it back from her face.

As Bran said, she did not possess traditional beauty as Westeros defined it. And yet Jon suddenly understood Bran's fascination. The woman radiated confidence, power and intelligence with every step. She stood taller than most of the men around her, and though she had the slimness of a young woman, her arms were not so thin as to not be muscled. Suddenly Jon understood-Rhaenys Targaryen was not pretty. But she was beautiful—and the golden starburst against black of her eyes made that beauty exotic and dangerous.

The two monarchs stood studying each other for the longest time until the queen smiled. The expression changed her face entirely. "You know, when I gave you warning about the Frey's treachery, I expected you to slink back north. Instead, you spanked the Lannisters so hard they felt it all the way in King's Landing. That was a spectacular victory, and one that helped set the stage for my own. Well done, your grace."

"And to you as well, your grace," Robb said, once he recovered from the unconventional greeting. He couldn't help but respond in kind. Jon knew from long practice that the best way to make Robb Stark smile was just to smile at him. The man couldn't frown in the face of a genuine smile, not ever. "Given our own treacherous experience with the Iron Born, I learned of your victory with great satisfaction."

The queen nodded. "So, we've kissed each other's asses. Shall we get to work?"

This is the queen of Westeros?

Robb appeared to be as flummoxed as Jon was. "Aye, I suppose we shall."

"Excellent. Let's eat some breakfast. I just flew in from King's Landing and I'm starved!"

Jon actually felt some of his tension ease. If there was food, then that added the blessing of guest rites on top of parley. The queen led them to a central table. There were other tables on either side, but she came to stand on the south side of the table and waited for Robb. Her immediate advisors (including the dwarf Lannister and a huge female knight of all people) stood waiting for Robb's people to go to the seats. Only then did the two monarchs sit.

Once they were seated, the rest followed suit. Once again, the queen broke convention. "Sansa, it's good to see you again."

"And you, your grace. How is Elliot?"

"He is growing like a weed and considered the bane of pig farmers across the land. Temeraire and Saphira prefer sheep, but for some reason Elliot likes bacon. So, introductions. It is my honor and privilege to introduce my uncle, Prince Doran Martell of Dorne. To his right is Ser Baelor Hightower of Oldtown, and to his right Lord Minister Ser Davos Seaworth, my Minister of the Navy. To my left is Lord Minister Tyrion Lannister, my Minister of Finance. To his left is Lady Commander Brienne of Tarth, Commander of the Royal Constabulary of King's Landing. The rest of my companions are those loyal vassals who have pledged themselves to the Iron Throne and hope to see peace this day."

Robb nodded. "A pleasure all. With me today on my right is my dear uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, to his right Greatjon Umber of the Last Hearth Umbers. On my left is my brother Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch, my sister whom you know, and my brother Bran Stark, newly returned from North of the Wall."

Jon's hackles rose when the queen looked past him and stared intently at Bran. "I have met your brother, your grace. He repaid the debt you Starks owed for my warning you of the Freys by warning me of Cersei's treachery. If not for him, those fires would have killed me. While I recognize the North would not mourn my death-here, now, your brother's warning is taken to heart. So much so, I'll overlook his using his power to attempt to access my sleeping quarters."

Sansa demurely covered her mouth, but she undoubtedly saw Bran's cheeks glowing as everyone in the room stared at the young man. Bran bowed his head. "My master corrected me, your grace. It shan't happen again."

The queen nodded, but didn't smile. "I understand the circumstances were unique, Bran Stark. In fact, you may have had no choice. But as someone with the power to crush a man's mind, I know more than most how sacred the human soul is. No matter how base their birth, all souls are sacred. Do you understand?"

Again, Jon felt oddly apprehensive at the warning in the woman's voice, and her statement. More so, Bran nodded. "Yes, your grace. My old master said the same."

"Good. You're powerful, Bran. More so than any other I've met in my travels. If we are successful today, I may even choose to heal your back. But I will have your word before your king and your family, and before the gods themselves, that you will never warg into another human again."

What? Jon turned and stared at his younger brother...cousin...in shock. Even Robb appeared concerned.

Bran met the queen's gaze squarely. "You have my word, my grace. But how did you…?"

"The Three Eyed Raven reached out to me," the Queen said. "In the realm of the mind, a second can last an eternity. In that last moment of his life, he asked that I watch for you. Perhaps even complete your training. Power such as yours is most dangerous when only half trained."

The queen looked back to Robb. "Yours is a powerful family, King Robb. At this table are three wargs, including yourself. Sansa could have been one, if not for Lannister treachery. I've no doubt your youngest sister is the same."

Servants arrived bearing food. Jon was pleased to see fruit, the likes of which they rarely saw in the north. Blood oranges and sweet pears, figs and dates. All politics stopped as a rich breakfast was shared. Instead of wine, luxurious fruit juices were poured for them. Even the Greatjon, who drank ale for breakfast, was pleased by the sweetness of his drink.

When the meal was finally consumed and taken away, the two sides once again found themselves facing each other over the table. Having taken the initiative in their first meeting, the Queen inclined her head to Robb.

"A good meal," he said. "We thank you. We've asked for this parley to discuss a way to end conflict between the North and South. We do this not because we fear defeat, but because of a more urgent cause. That is why I've asked my natural brother, Jon Snow of the Night's Watch, to attend us. Jon?"

"Your grace," Jon said with a nod. "Winter is coming. And with it comes the Long Night. The White Walkers have returned-I've seen them with my own eyes. Almost three hundred brothers of the Night's Watch were slaughtered by walking corpses. Even now, a hundred thousand wildlings are just north of the wall, scheming to come south because the White Walkers hunt them."

Those around the queen, and those of her supporters who heard, sat up in open alarm or skepticism. All, that is, save the queen herself. She listened patiently before nodding. "I believe you, Jon Snow. May I share something of myself, your grace?"

"Of course, your grace."

"I am told that I was smuggled out of King's Landing with my brother by men who had a specific vision for my fate. My brother was to go into hiding and be trained for kingship, while I was sent to the Shadowlands of Asshai to learn magic and the art of restoring dragons to the Targaryens. My brother died of a fever, and my own guardian died of exposure to the shadows. I was raised in magic, but without a clear understanding of my heritage. It wasn't until Ser Barristan fetched me to Qarth that I learned the truth of my birth."

Jon noticed that the queen's own bannermen listened as raptly as those of the North. Was this a story none had heard before?

"I was to join my Aunt, the Princess Daenerys, at Qarth. Instead, we found her executed and her dragons captured. But I also found a Shadowbinder with a powerful, clear vision of the future. She told me that I was Azor Ahai, the Princess who was Promised. She saw my swords of blue fire and declared that I was the one chosen of the gods to stand between the Long Night and the realms of men. More importantly, Ser Barristan said that it was my father's belief that it was one of his children who would be the Prince who was promised. He thought it was my brother; but it appears it was me.

"I am queen of Westeros, Robb Stark, because the gods themselves have ordained it. And I am here, now, because I don't want to fight your armies. I want you to lead mine. You might make a decent king, but you are an extraordinary general."

She stood, stepping back from the table. "The north had just cause to rise against Joffrey No-Name. The Lannister family did you grievous harm and committed the most foul treachery. For their treachery, they have forever lost their ancestral lands and status as a great house. Those involved in your father's death have seen justice done. Just as he helped see that those who did wrong to his father before him were brought to justice."

She met Robb's gaze squarely. "Bend the knee, Robb Stark, and you will not just command the northern forces, you will advise the throne directly. Because I will also be in the north fighting beside you. Through a pardon is not required, I will grant it anyway for any man who took up the sword against the pretenders.

"When the ice and snow come, I will draw on crops from across the kingdom to ensure none of your people starve. If you are attacked, I pledge you the full force of the entire Kingdom to aid in your defense. And when we have thrown down this threat and brought peace back to the kingdoms, I will ensure that the North always has a voice in the kingdom. I will create a parliament of lords that shall meet every other year to discuss the health of the realm and to advise the Iron Throne of the needs of the people."

Jon began to see how this woman swept into power so quickly. Her voice rang in their ears and surged in their hearts. He found himself sitting straighter, and knew others behind him did the same.

And his brother, gods bless him, was as swept up as the rest of them. Even as he admired the queen for her oratory skills, he felt a sense of disappointment at how quickly Robb gave into it. Instead of arguing for preferential trading rights or lower taxes, he stood, swept around the table, and bent the knee. Behind him, Ser Brynden's face was like a mask, but Robb wore his heart on his surcoat for all to see.

We never had a chance, Jon realized.