She remembered the last time she had done such a foolish thing.
Corpses covered the frozen earth like the leaves on forest grounds. Something catastrophic had happened there but that didn't concern the man-shaped thing. It stalked closer to the cave mouth where the number of bodies underfoot grew to the point where bones crunched beneath its ragged boots, not ice and stone. Torch in hand, it found a burned out campsite within and walked to where the bodies stopped littering the cave floor and piled up instead; it threw them aside easily. Some were ragged naked and others wore black, swirling cloaks of the Night's Watch. Behind them all was a crevice in the rock and the torch's light drew something else as well. A spearhead surged out from within the darkness that it just barely caught in its hand, with speed and strength likely not possible in a man, and slammed it against the rocks. Its dragonglass tip chipped and broke off in pieces.
Her grunts and struggles sounded from within.
"Damn you!" she croaked hoarsely. "Die!"
"I've come to save you, girl." It whispered to her. "Jeyne Stark."
Her fight began to die down but her grip remained tight on her spear.
"Who … are you?"
"You don't die here, Jeyne. But if you remain, you surely will."
Slowly, its grasp on the spear fell away and it stepped back from the crevice. Slowly and reluctantly, she climbed out after him in groans of discomfort. She stumbled and fell to her knees before his feet, breathing raggedly. It had been days since she had been outside of that place and her body felt as stiff as the wights moved and sounded. She was bundled in the cloaks of black brothers and tatters of wights alike, anything to keep her from freezing. Still, she shivered from the chill that clung to her person like worms looking for soft parts to burrow. She didn't trust the man-thing but she didn't want to remain there and die. She left herself at its mercy.
"Wa … ter" she croaked. "Please."
It unlatched a furred water skin from its hip and passed it down. She was surprised that the water was kept warm within. It worked wonders on her dry throat.
"Not so much." It said to her. "You have grown weak."
She begrudgingly set it aside. It offered a hand to help her rise. Dark rags wrapped the palm but its darkened, hard fingers showed through. She looked up saw its tattered clothes, seeing it for some odd, unnatural thing. Still, it wasn't like the others and perhaps going along was a mistake. A worse mistake would be staying there. She reached up and took the hand, finding it cold as a wight's but it was also a helping hand.
It led her to the frozen shore where it had a small boat awaiting the two them; it rowed her through the Bay of Seals, bundled her in her furs and many more while she slept, within sight of an Eastwatch ship or as close as it could take her because like others, the Wall's ancient magic worked to keep it separated from the untainted folk of the realm.
She felt the boat dip and lull slightly and then heard a soft splash to accompany this. She began to lift some of the cloaks away but paused when she heard a voice that didn't belong to her savior.
"You know nothing, Jeyne Snow."
That voice. No, it can't be. She looked up from the cloaks and realized there was no rescue for her nor was there her savior. Still, she felt no cold. It was him instead, working the oars that powered them both through the icy bay. My man. He was still thick, stocky and strong within his wear of sheep fur and deer skin; Most of his apparent flesh was freckled including his hands, arms, face, neck and back. The hair on his head was a mass of tangled, bright red for he was 'kissed by fire' as the Free Folk said. He had red stubble on his face that he fashioned a beard. He had bragged that he would grow a magnificent fiery face like his father but he didn't grow hair on his face so well. His jaw was rounded and yet strong though slightly crooked; his blue-grey eyes were as unkind as when they first met.
She sat up and reached for him. "Ygren."
He stiffened and glared at her. "Don't do it, woman. I'll save you but I will have no soft touch from a traitor. I'll smack ya. See if I won't."
She scooted closer to him regardless. "I had no choice. Please, see that. I had to protect Winterfell. The north."
"You killed me."
"No!" she dared slip in close to him. "It wasn't me! I could never harm you!"
"You killed us all. You knew what we were fighting for and you killed us for it!"
"Stop it, please!"
"To think I would have had you for my wife. I should've never taken you!"
"I said stop it!"
"No, you stop it!"
As she watched him, three arrows punctured him in him in the back from nowhere at all and he began choking and bleeding from his mouth.
"Ygren!" she lunged for him but she fell on nothing for he was never really there. It wasn't right. There were good memories to be had as well so why did her thoughts of him turn to pain? Could she have nothing? He might have been gone but two investigating boats were rowing out towards her from the ship; each were filled with three armed brothers. She knew her survival was at stake and that she should have called for them but she suddenly felt that she didn't deserve it; any kind of salvation. The harsh winds of the bay were something she was beginning to feel so she packed in her dark, flowing curls and the rest back into her bundle and laid back down.
.
Rest. That was what she was supposed to have been doing. That was why she been tucked in warmed furs and left in a guarded room with a stoked fire at Eastwatch. Past deeds had made her an eternal friend of those in leadership at the Watch and protected her from the unsavory characters. She had eaten small helpings as she grew in strength, beginning with strips of meat and small cups of soup to small chicken legs and cups of water. All of that to rest again. Rest. Yet, how could one rest when she wakes to find her queenly sister at their bedside upon awakening?
Her eyes fluttered open that morning and she glimpsed her at her side, seated in a dress of nightly green brilliance. Her auburn hair was in rolled tumbles and crowned in a headpiece of polished obsidian. Jeyne was awestruck and at a loss for words.
"Sister" Sansa murmured to her. "Finally you wake."
"You … shouldn't be here" Jeyne groaned.
"All this time and that is all you have to say to me?" asked Sansa. "That I shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be here."
"You're the Queen. Your place is in Winterfell."
Sansa rose and leaned over Jeyne. She planted a kiss on her cheek. "So is yours. I told you not to go."
"I-I'm sorry. I was the only one of them that's ever seen them. The true threat."
"They told me of what you did."
Jeyne and the others had come upon wights beyond the wall and had their quarry in chains and bound for their Eastwatch ships. They were waiting for them on the shore to the Bay of Seals, only then they were set upon by a near army of the undead. Over a hundred armed wights chased and trapped them in a valley. So, Jeyne and her company had no choice but to fight their way through. It was a terrible event and many of them were lost in the struggle. Jeyne had two daggers of dragonglass and a spear. She made her through the center, along with half a dozen others, to a clear path through the valley. Only what she saw there stilled her heart. They were riding coursers that were in various degrees of decay; the horses had flesh missing and bone and muscles exposed to the winter air. Upon their backs were three armored Others with their otherworldly bodies nearly transparent in the open daylight and their armor gleaming in distorted colors of the rainbow.
"They said you went to them" Sansa went on.
"I did. To kill them."
"Yet, I have heard from the survivors that your spear wasn't raised."
Jeyne did walk to them and oddly enough as she did, no wights attacked her; they instead shifted their focus to somebody else of the living. Her spear hung limply from her grasp, dragging through the snow until it dropped from her hand completely and laid there behind her. She wasn't alerted by this at all and continued on. If any of the others had seen her face, they would've seen that her eyes were awestruck and glazed.
"And you left it. I didn't believe it when I heard that. Why would you do that?"
Jeyne laid back and sighed in weariness. "I'm tired, my Queen. I promise I will make the journey for Winterfell when I am well again."
"I can see that." Sansa said with a nod. "When you are fit enough to travel, we will go back together."
"But you have seen that I am well. You shouldn't even be here. Who holds the Hall in your absence?"
"Oh, now you show concern for our Hall. Well, fear not, sister. Lords Baelish, Cerwyn and others have it in hand."
"Littlefinger? Sansa, tell me you haven't given that man power over matters in the Hall."
"You focus on that name like a wolf on a rabbit. How curious."
Jeyne closed her eyes. The two of them had argued over this subject so many times already and she didn't wish to have it yet again.
"Will you please return to the Hall?" she asked instead.
"When you are well enough to travel, I will."
"You're being irresponsible. You're queen."
"And you're my Hand." Sansa said with some resentment, standing away from her. "Hands do not leave their Queen's sides to run to the Others and neither do Starks! By the gods, Jeyne, there are only two of us now! I may be queen but you are my sister. My elder sister. Why are you so intent on leaving me alone in the world?"
Jeyne was quieted then, somewhat shamed. She turned away momentarily. "That wasn't my intention."
"Then what?"
Jeyne didn't answer.
"I'll be by to see you again in an hour's time. I hope you'll be more receptive then." Sansa then left her there.
.
That was some time ago, however, well before Lady Jeyne had even met the Dragon King. Her foolish thing had been leading an expedition to the Land of Always Winter to capture a dozen wights as proof to the world of the true enemy. It ended in miserable failure and she was the last to return alive as the surviving party had been forced to return alive. She told nobody of the true circumstances of her arrival for she was sure none would believe it. She had done another foolish thing since then; just how foolish it was had yet to be seen.
A riding party arrived at the gates of Winterfell on a much later evening; One of high merit that was given near immediate entrance past the guard without issue. When the gates were opened, Lady Jeyne Stark, freshly arrived from her Dragonstone journey and her tours through the North, rode into the stronghold on a northern courser with a party that included Asha Greyjoy, Lady Val, Toregg the Tall and members of the Stark household guard. She immediately gave her horse to stablehands to board while she hurried to the Great Hall and shoved its doors open.
What she saw astonished her. The tables had been largely pushed apart and two fully armored combatants were battling it out in a melee with blunted weapons right in the center of the great room. The northern lords were cheering them on as well as some of the Vale lords. Lord Baelish sat alone on the dais in Queen Sansa's seat. She went to the large feast bell by the Hall door and began ringing it furiously, putting its sounds over all else in the room. Slowly but surely, they all began quiet down and look to the source of the sound.
When they had ceased, she stepped towards the center within plain view of the high table.
"What is the meaning of all this? The Queen has allowed this?"
Lord Baelish stood and raised a glass of mulled wine. "My Lady Hand. I am glad to see you returned home at last."
"Lord Baelish, what are you doing in that seat? As you know, that place is reserved for the Queen in the North, the Hand and the maester. In the absence of maester, that is still myself and nobody else. You are sitting in the wrong seat." She removed her riding gloves and flexed her stiff fingers by the heat of fire.
Lord Baelish paused for a moment and dipped his head in her direction. "My Lady Hand, of course. I will not deny you your honored high position. I was only keeping your seat warm for you."
You were warming the Queen's seat and probably more than that though I loathe to think of it.
She waited for Baelish to vacate the spot before she went on. He stood but didn't leave the dais so she settled for that. "Where is the Queen?"
Lady Anya Waynwood from Ironoaks and the Vale stood. "Our precious Queen has taken to her chambers. She has taken ill. We all think she just misses you, her dear sister."
Jeyne's hard glare wiped the smile from Lady Waynwood's lips. Satisfied, she went on. "The Queen has fallen ill? Have physicians seen to her?"
Lord Baelish answered, to her chagrin. "Why of course, my Lady Hand. She is only running a mild fever. Well, that and dramatics." That drew a bit of scattered chuckling that Jeyne didn't like. "A draught and your presence should right her again, I believe."
"We shall see, Lord Baelish" Jeyne said begrudgingly as she turned her back to him. Oh, she loathed talking to the man. She turned to the rest of the Hall. "Until the Queen is well again, it is I who will govern this place! These games in the Hall are at an end!" She gestured to the swords, shields and armor stacked on walls and tables, some of which had been overturned and splintered in the midst of their games. "Stewards! Gather your staffs and set this rabble right again! My lords and ladies, do not interfere in their works or I will put you out into the snow! "
Young Robert Arryn, whom was among the crowded Vale lords, feebly protested. "But the fighting … I wanted to see the fighting. It was fun …"
When she saw that the maids and grooms were well under way, she sat in the Queen's seat where the cupbearer came upon her.
"Peppered beer, my lady?" the nervous girl asked.
"Why yes, sweet girl. Thank you." The girl poured her beer and left her. Jeyne drunk deep and looked over the hall. She knew that none liked her especially well at that moment but they would like her even less in a moment.
She set her drink onto the table and spoke loudly. "Hear me, Lords and Ladies! Listen well! All who are not in this hall, tell them the same and true! I will send letters to who I can! I have brought chests overflowing with dragonglass from Dragonstone! Yet, we must prepare! King Daeron Targaryen and his royal party are on their way to Winterfell. They are royal allies! I have already informed all castles and cities on the way here. They are not to be attacked or molested. We will receive them with kindness."
There was a slight uproar in the Hall.
"What is the meaning of this, Jeyne Snow?" Lord Yohn Royce demanded to know. "We have not heard of this."
"Have you truly invited a foreign invader to these lands?" asked Mors Umber.
"Yet again you over step your authority, Jeyne Snow!" Ser Justin Massey accused "And where is Lady Asha?"
Asha stepped up behind him and slapped him on the back of the neck. "Are you giving my Lady a hard time?"
Jeyne was immediately glad for Asha. She knew that Melisandre's sworn knights were quick to hysterics as religious fanatics often were; if one were riled, it would likely set off the others. Yet, she also knew that Ser Justin desired Asha and her hand above all else. Asha surely knew when to take advantage of this.
"Does Queen Sansa know of this Dragon King's visit?" Lord Baelish conveniently asked. "And what of the Night's Watch? Surely, this concerns them as well."
"I've sent word to Eastwatch and all concerning locations in the North to expect the King's visit already. And I will speak to the Queen shortly."
Lord Baelish nodded and cryptically turned and stepped down from the dais.
Jeyne called out to him. "Lord Baelish, where are you going?"
He turned back to her with a sly smile. "Oh, Lady Hand. I'm afraid I'm too embarrassed to say."
She could feel her eye twitching. "Lord Baelish, you will stay here in the Hall until I have spoken to the Queen."
"Lady Hand, I am remiss to say it but you have forced my hand." The man chuckled to himself at that. "I have drunk too much wine for my body. I only wish to relieve myself –"
"Lord Baelish, you will piss in a bucket. I am your Queen as of now and I command that you remain in this hall until my return."
She saw the smile fade from his lips and for just a moment become replaced with something else. She knew what he wished to do; turn Jeyne's intentions into poison in the Queen's ear before she had her say. She wouldn't have it. She knew that they were all watching, especially the Vale nobility. He especially wouldn't like that. She knew he would try to make her regret it but she didn't care for the moment. What she did care about was that he would have to obey her.
He quickly dipped his head after that moment passed. "As you wish, my Lady Hand. I only hope that Queen Sansa shares your acceptance in sharing the Halls with another court that would much rather rule us." Of course he would have parting words.
When Jeyne came to Sansa in the same chamber their father (and Theon unfortunately) had once used, she saw that it was mostly the same as it had been when he was alive. Somebody involved in the rebuilding and design of it must've either seen or built it before Winterfell's fall to the Greyjoys. Too much was the same. Sansa was glad to see her but seemed as ill as they had said. She had some strength but was a bit pale and had occasional coughing fits that made her wish to lie down.
"Oh, dear sister. You're aren't burnt or beheaded!" The words were somewhat harsh but it was said in such a merry, childish way that Jeyne had to smile. Somehow, Sansa was still beautiful in her disheveled, flushed appearance. She wore a nightgown and two loose robes and sweated through them all and Jeyne still felt self-conscious about her own appearance in her presence though she would never tell her that.
Jeyne made a show of patting her dresses and sides. "No, Your Grace. I believe I am still in one piece."
Sansa snorted. "Oh, stuff the Grace's for now. Come hold me. Everything else feels like sick death on my skin, even these clothes. Perhaps my own family can make me feel alive again." She held out her arms wide for Jeyne's embrace like a child wanting to be carried.
Jeyne shook her head at her. It must have been the sickness speaking.
"I think not. Have you taken your medicines?"
Sansa dropped her arms in mild haughtiness. "You traitor. Of course I have. How did you not catch sickness beyond the Wall?"
"I honestly couldn't say."
"Don't let it be said that I am no true northman. It isn't my fault I caught sickness!"
"Of course not. It doesn't surprise me however. You brought all of those folk from the Vale. Who could know what infections they might've brought with them?"
"Hmm. You might speak true. Now, tell me. How is our Targaryen king?"
Jeyne wasn't nervous to tell her sick, younger half-sister what she did, even if she was queen. At least that's what she told herself. As she told her the truth, of Dragonstone Island and Castle, of King Daeron himself and his court, of his intentions and even her plans, Sansa would sometimes stare at her blankly with her sky blue eyes and sometimes she'd close them as if she were trying to sleep. When she was finished, Sansa reached over and took Jeyne's hand firmly.
Her grip grew tighter until Jeyne asked what she was doing. Sansa only shushed her and went on with focused determination.
"Damn it!" Sansa bemoaned. "I'm trying to hurt you but that's all the strength I can muster!" She leaned up into a sitting position and slapped Jeyne in the chest as hard as she could though the Hand barely moved. She fell back into a bed in a coughing fit and Jeyne brought her more cloths as an apology.
"I gave you no leave" Sansa said as she came down from her coughing fit. "You betrothed to a foreign madman who threatens my crown and our family's sovereignty."
"We need them. We need help. We cannot do that alone. The Long Night is approaching and he gives us best chance of survival."
"If I'll bed him. A Targaryen."
"He is not his father. I spent weeks with him. I feel I know him."
"Know him well after a few weeks?"
"Well enough. Let us greet him. Then we shall decide on a contract that is mutually beneficial. You're the one who's spent much too long in King's Landing. You've seen the wrong way to do things. We must compromise. The Vale is not enough and you know it."
Sansa thought on it.
"We don't have too long" Jeyne went on. "I arrived ahead of him and he's already at White Harbor. They are not accustomed to traveling in the North but he travels with a smaller party and on dragonback as well."
"He's brought his dragons!" Sansa was aghast.
"Just one" Jeyne answered apologetically.
"Just one" Sansa mockingly repeated. "As if one dragon isn't a terror. I suppose you had little choice at the time. Though I wish you had discussed these plans with me before. If you weren't my beloved blood, I would strip you of your title and fling you into the dungeon and you would not enjoy the company."
"I … understand."
"Betrothal. After all of these years, you're still telling me what to do."
"Well … whose fault is that?" Sansa had of course chosen to legitimize Jeyne and name her Hand after the work she had done at the Wall.
Sansa shook her head. "Well, we'll just see how things go. Oh, and there's something you need to know as well. Perhaps the betrothal won't be as necessary as you thought."
.
In the coming days, the North prepared but Jeyne did so especially. Sansa focused on getting as well as she could; Jeyne had scribes, chambermaids and grooms copy decrees that she herself dictated before she signed and sealed them. Ravens were sent to Ramsgate, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Torrhen's Square and of course, Eastwatch. Though there had been some forewarning beforehand, she thought it dire that they realize King Daeron was already in the North. Bitterly, she felt just as much his subject as her sister's.
"King Daeron is visiting our castles!" she announced to the gathered Northern lords in the Hall afterwards. "He says he is interested in the North and that he just wants to see how we live as well as the true threat! Believe me, he is giving us opportunity to damn ourselves as well! This decree I have sent is from my station as Queen's Hand, which is as good as the Queen's word herself! King Daeron will be mounted on dragonback but his party will be a traditional royal progress! They will not be fired upon or harried in any way. They are to be treated with all ceremony and respect as befit an ally. Better yet, a king. I highly advise all gathered lords of White Harbor, Ramsgate, Hornwood Castle, Castle Cerwyn, and Torrhen's Square to return to their seats to ensure proper treatment of the king unless you trust that your castellans left behind will act in good faith and leave a remarkable impression. Violate this decree and you will become enemies of the Crown, I assure you."
She could hear their rumblings as they discussed amongst themselves the situation. She knew most if not all were not happy with his presence and her seeming closeness to him. They talked of losing the North already, what with the constant absence of their queen and Jeyne's talk of impressing the king. They thought her to be his woman. She did nothing to dissuade them, instead focusing on preparation.
"A wheelhouse, your Grace?" Jeyne Stark asked Queen Sansa as she tightened the furs over herself on the ride beyond Winterfell. The queen was feeling better as of late so she thought it would do some good to take a short trip. They left the minor dealings to Lord Baelish in their absence. Most of the work had been done so Jeyne saw no harm in it. "Things have changed, haven't they?"
"It doesn't do for me to ride outside the walls on horseback" Sansa stated. "A queen has to maintain her dignity."
"You have been spending too much time with Littlefinger, my sister."
"That isn't only Lord Baelish's thinking. That's tradition. That's proper. It was one thing when we were lords and wardens of the North but we're kings and queens now. Things have changed. We should be higher than the others."
"I'm sure Lyanna Mormont, Mors Umber and the others would agree. They want a fighting sovereign, not a riding parade."
Sansa exhaled. "It's winter. I'm ill. I wouldn't like to ride horseback for leagues or however much distance regardless. Just accept the wheelhouse."
Jeyne leaned back and sighed.
Sansa shook her head. "You're as difficult as ever."
"You missed me."
Sansa looked down and folded her hands. "I did. Even after you did what you did, I can't help but love you for it."
"Everything I did, I did for us. For the north."
"And I know it. I just hope that you consult me on matters so drastic."
Jeyne sighed and flexed her neck. "With the gods' good grace we will never have to do something so drastic again."
Sansa shook her head. "We'll just have to see. I much enjoy your company more than the others. Always the scheming and whispering. You could be more aggressive in pushing your policies to me."
Jeyne preferred not to participate in badmouthing the others her sister spoke of. She only presented her own ideas and agendas which Sansa was usually happy to take in consideration. Perhaps that her fault in not playing the political game but she was just fine not doing that.
"I trust that you'll know the good advice from the bad and unethical. I'm sure they know some things I'm not privy to know and I the same that would prove useful in your reign. For the times that isn't true, I'll be there to set you right again."
Sansa smiled and touched a stray auburn curl of hers, twirling it around a gloved finger. "I've seen and heard you dictate your letters and order the stewards about. You sound like the Dragon's King herald. You haven't been won over by him already, have you?"
Jeyne was somewhat stunned. "Sister … I …"
Sansa waved it away. "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself. I know that you would never betray us. It is only a thought. Well, shall we prepare to receive a king?"
Jeyne felt a rather uneasy regardless on their ride back to Winterfell.
.
The Lady Hand walked past a bench in the forefront of the bell tower where she noticed Toregg the Tall and Asha Greyjoy flirting over mugs of beer and chuckled to herself. She found her good friend and steward apprentice, Jeyne Poole, having a tug-of-war with her direwolf Ghost using a long white cloth. Ghost was so large by that point that she could've dragged poor Jeyne anywhere in the North she wanted but the wolf liked the game since she was a cub and was safely playful at it so play they did.
She watched Jeyne giggle and pull at the cloth while Ghost held her ground and gave silent growls in response for a while longer before she approached. She only had to take one step closer before Ghost's large head and red eyes veered in her direction; before she knew it, Ghost stood before her and waited. Jeyne went to her and ran her hands over the direwolf's head, rubbing over that, around her ears and jawline.
"Dear girl" Jeyne said as she leaned over and kissed the wolf above the snout, which she accepted with a blink.
Jeyne Poole walked over and curtsied. "My Lady."
Still rubbing Ghost, she asked her "How are you coming along with the staffs?"
She hesitated. "Well enough, my lady."
"Are they treating you well?" Jeyne Poole was following in her father's footsteps in being a steward. At the time, she was an apprentice and worked over and sometimes alongside the very same grooms and maids that Jeyne commanded.
She nodded. "It's … hard work. Especially now, with the king approaching."
Jeyne smiled. "Oh, yes. Sorry about that. Things are only going to pick up, I'm afraid. Our peaceful days may be coming to an end."
"It certainly feels that way."
Jeyne touched her shoulder tenderly. "Will you not reconsider? Accepting the position as my assistant I mean?" Jeyne had offered her Poole to be by her side as her aide but Jeyne Poole had declined instead to go into the Winterfell stewardship. She even stayed in the servant's quarters with the others when Jeyne offered her a place in her own tower though they still visited each other often and practically shared companionship with Ghost between them.
She dipped her head. "I apologize again, my lady, but I politely decline."
Jeyne nodded and returned her attention to Ghost.
Jeyne Poole sighed. "Though if you continue to ask, my resolve may continue to weaken."
A pause and then they both shared a soft chuckle. They talked more candidly of what she had done on Dragonstone and the accusations she received in the North because of it. The two of them went to a stony outdoors bench to talk while Ghost stalked off to find something to hunt in the wolfswood.
"Oh, you foolish woman" Jeyne Poole said beside Ghost in a sarcastic tone of voice, "doing your best to protect the North. What were you thinking if you don't mind my saying?"
"I was thinking … 'how am I to get that dragonglass? And please don't burn me'."
She told her as much she remember on short notice.
"He has ebon-skinned red priests in brilliant red and black pants who look nothing like our Melisandre besides the crimson. I have to admit they made me uncomfortable."
She told her of the sulfuric air and general atmosphere of Dragonstone the island. The mostly pretty people and refugees of the war overflowed the island but were in good spirits due to the religious freedom and trade that was brought in from Essos. The gloomy castle had an assorted yet respectable court full of displaced lords, ladies and knights that constantly tried to curry the Targaryen's favor. She told her that she had seen two dragons: Visenyx was pale with golden horns and spinal plating like a crown and armor and Rhaellys was a dark leafy green with light coloring of bronze on her underbelly, wings and claws.
"They're she-dragons" she told her. "Or at least they were. Dragons apparently change genders often throughout their lives as necessary to mate and these are the last of them. But he still considers them his daughters because they were born female."
"I thought there were three."
"I did as well. I asked about it and he told me that Doreon spends most of her time flying across the sea and he sees little of her."
"How odd."
Jeyne nodded in agreement.
"What of the king himself?"
She told her. King Daeron, to Jeyne, was a serious man. He was brutally honest and appreciated honesty. He allowed Tyrion and others to govern but stepped in when they attempted to do something that displeased him. There were those in his court who had agendas but most seemed almost fanatically loyal to him. He had the fabled looks of a young Targaryen and had an almost surreal beauty despite minor blemishes to the visage such as one clipped ear and perhaps more scarring other than that beneath robes. There was a certain sadness and reluctance to him yet something drove him to act with purpose. He seemed a fair negotiator and didn't take battle lightly. That was perhaps why he was open to meeting their Queen.
Jeyne Poole reached over and touched the Lady Hand's questionably. "Do you … admire him … especially?"
Jeyne gave it a second's thought and patted her friend's hand in return in affirmation. "I've met with him quite a few times and have seen much. I believe he is a good man. But it isn't what you think. I am negotiating a betrothal between him and Sansa. Nothing beyond that."
Jeyne quickly nodded and moved past it. "King Daeron the Second" she murmured. "Will he be our salvation?"
"He refused to acknowledge North as an independent kingdom" Jeyne Stark admitted to her. "He denied Sansa as queen and my legitimization. He still calls me Miss Snow or miss. I tend to leave that out of my letters."
"Gods no. You must hate that."
Jeyne's eyes narrowed. "Unless he kills me, he has no say in the matter. But I've convinced him to come see the North for himself and have an open mind. I imagine when he sees what we have for him, he'll see things differently."
.
Rakharo, Jhogo, Aggo, Victarion Greyjoy, Moqorro, Lord Adrian Celtigar and young Lord Monterys Velaryon arrived on horseback accompanied by companions and an order of helmed soldiers sworn to Houses Targaryen, Velaryon, Celtigar and Greyjoy. At the rear was a mounted honor guard that carried the banners of the aforementioned houses as well as the reversed colors of Targaryen, Blackfyre. They were given entrance to the courtyard from the south gate and were greeted by a welcoming party.
The Dothraki in their company were less than impressed with the North's climate. They wore thick lamb wool and left their arms bare.
"The deeper we go in this shit heap" muttered Aggo in his native tongue, "the more I curse these icemen and their lands!"
"What can grow here?" asked Jhogo, rubbing his own arms for warmth. "My khalakka will not settle here."
Queen Sansa headed the greeting party alongside her Lady Hand Jeyne Stark, Lord Protector Petyr Baelish and others.
She approached them directly with two cloaked guardsmen at her side. "I am Queen Sansa Stark, Queen in the North and High Lady of Winterfell. The people of Winterfell welcome you. But I must ask, where is King Daeron?"
Victarion stepped down from his horse and approached the Queen. Some of the Stark men and knights sworn to Manderly behind her reached for their hilts instinctively. He wore a seal-skin doublet over heavy chainmail and a golden cape bearing his kraken. He removed his kraken-shaped helm and went to a knee before her.
"Queen Sansa" he greeted in his gravelly voice. "I am Lord Victarion Greyjoy and I faithfully serve King Daeron the Third of his name, the Prince That Was Promised."
She nodded to him and he rose again.
"You'll want to clear a wide berth in the yard. My king comes." He pointed upwards and Sansa's eyes followed.
A shadowy, winged shadow was circling them then.
"Seven help us" whispered Sansa in distress.
There were men beneath the scorpions lining the walls but they weren't actually manning them in good faith. She suddenly wished they were. She shuddered when she heard a few beastly hacking coughs and a short snarl from the high beast.
"Clear the yard!" shouted Victarion. "Provide wide berth!"
"D-do as he says" Sansa said low, stunned.
"Move back!" Jeyne shouted for her. "Away! The king will land! Away!"
It took some time but surely, the people made clear the area and pushed towards the walls.
Slowly, the shadow began to descend with hard, flowing flaps of its wings. The hard, beating sounds they made were like a galley's sails blown in angry sea winds accompanied by a monstrous heartbeat. Jeyne could see that Queen Sansa was shaking though she wouldn't run or abandon the others even if she wanted to hide. Sansa felt a hand reach over and take hers, interlocking slender fingers with her own. She looked over and saw Jeyne giving her a comforting nod. She steeled herself and looked skyward again.
Daeron descended on a dragon of pale cream scales with horns, spinal protrusions and claws that appeared shiny and gilded. He looked resplendent upon her back, wearing finery of black and scarlet and a snow bear skin cloak, a hollow snow bear's head hooded over his head and body.
Visenyx the she-dragon in question gave a triumphant roar that worried all northerners and those of the Vale in the yard. Who in Winterfell had imagined they'd ever see a dragon? Who in the North? And from generations past?
He carefully slid down her back and stood next to her head. He whispered some distinctive words to her in High Valyrian as he scratched her beneath her jaw. He lowered his head and bumped it against the crown of her own. She closed the slits of her molten gold eyes. He stepped away from her; the beat of her wings created gusts that felt like winter winds come again. In moments, she was rising above Winterfell and soared upwards into the distance.
Slowly, King Daeron turned towards Queen Sansa and lowered his snow bear hood, displaying his long, unbraided hair of silver-gold and eyes of light purple. He wore a band around his head at the center of his forehead of ruby, gold and obsidian.
Both objectively admitted internally that they were among the comeliest creatures either had ever seen. Some might say as a king and queen should be.
Victarion announced him. "Winterfell, I present to you King Daeron, the Protec-"
Daeron raised a hand back to Victarion and gave him a glance. "That won't be necessary, Lord Victarion. We are in Queen Sansa's court. These are her halls."
He went to her and she watched him closely the entire way. He took her left hand in his and kissed her knuckles.
"Queen Sansa" he said to her. "Letters and talk of your beauty have done you no justice."
"King Daeron" she answered. "If I were just a little girl, I daresay you would strike me as one of those handsome knights from the songs."
"You honor me."
Jeyne spoke up abruptly. "King Daeron, I welcome you to Winterfell. I will find suitable quarters and servants for your party."
"Jeyne Stark." He said to her, flashing a rare smile. "You have a charming look about you today. I suppose the winter snow serves you better than my smoky island."
Jeyne gave a small smile herself and dipped her head in graciousness. "You're too kind, your Grace.
"King Daeron" Sansa interjected. "I pray that you'll forgive my sending my dear sister to meet with you instead of I. As Queen of the North, many things require my attention as I'd be glad to show you. There was nobody I'd trust more to meet with you in my stead."
Daeron found his eyes on Jeyne yet again. "Think not of it. Miss Jeyne has left quite an impression of me speaking of your North. She's so … serious."
"That she is, but pray forgive me, it's Lady Jeyne." Sansa felt she must correct him with titles if she were assert they were a separate land from his kingdom.
He looked back to her and showed no hint of reverence in his eyes but dipped his head all the same. "Of course. Lady Jeyne, forgive me as well. That is one of many things we should discuss I'm sure you both agree."
"Where has the dragon gone?" Queen Sansa asked both out of worry and a desire to see the subject changed for the moment.
"I sent Visenyx to graze far from here. Do not worry that he will feed on owned property. I have made arrangements with a farmer near Deepwood Motte to feed on his cattle. I have and will continue to pay him handsomely."
"I hope you will think to ask my permission next time?"
Daeron seemed wounded. "Of course. My apologies."
Sansa sighed then turned to Jeyne. "We must have our guests out of the cold. Have our stewards see them to their chambers and situate them. We will the grandest feast Winterfell has seen in quite a while."
.
They were seated in the Hall where various meats, tankards of liquor and breads were passed around on trays and plates. Aggo stood by the doors tearing into a large hunk of roasted seabass, a fish he had never tasted.
"This meat is drowned in salt" Aggo look over the charred flesh in observation. "It has an odd smell."
"That is fish from the sea" Jhogo casually told him as he drunk mead, which he had developed a taste for since their arrival at White Harbor.
"Poisoned fish?!" Aggo exclaimed and looked down at it in his palms. Slowly, he put another piece in his mouth before swallowing the rest in short order. He liked it and contemplated whether he would bother a serving girl with giving him more. He found most of the girls too pale and plain for his liking but he had to admit that one or two of them seemed of good stock.
Some Westorosi didn't think too highly of the horse-loving people.
"Bloody savages, the lot of them" muttered Yohn Royce under his breath. "Worse than the mountain clans. I won't have them anywhere near the Vale. That damn foreigner king, as well. Brings nothing but eunuchs and freaks to our lands."
"Dragons, too" Petyr Baelish said from his side. "Don't forget about them."
"How could I?" Royce's eye grew big. "Beasts! They pose a threat to us all! How much flesh would it take to feed a monster like that? Winter is here."
"Yes" Petyr said, "but imagine if you control such a beast. Nobody could stand against you."
"You are a foolish man. Only a Targaryen can tame a dragon."
"You're likely right. You were there. You saw the love it had for its master. Yet, one must wonder how smart these creatures are. Could their love transfer to their master's wife, for instance? Just a thought."
"You think too much, Littlefinger. You'd best leave the plots to your betters."
Though he didn't notice it, a flash of rage crossed Petyr's features as he looked at him. A second later, Petyr stilled his face and drunk from his goblet.
"Perhaps you're right, my lord. I'll consider it."
On the dais, King Daeron had a high seat on Queen Sansa's right while Jeyne was conveniently seated on Sansa's left. Daeron couldn't help but give occasional glances in the direction of the woman he had come to know and admire over the past month. He would also look over the Hall itself. It was a large feast hall but miniscule compared to his courtroom and even his own dining chamber. Still, the people seemed much livelier and more honest when compared to the droll people always clamoring for his favor. These people were happily feasting, drinking and singing. He hadn't much of that since his time in the Free Cities before his rule over Meereen.
"I know it isn't your traditional court" Sansa said to him, "but this hall and many like it have been mainstays of Winterfell since the Age of Heroes. I did consider building a court myself but I think with these circumstances, this hall is more apt. I mean, look at them. How could they forget their worries in a stuffy court?"
Daeron looked at her. "And what of the Wall? What happens when this army of the dead break through?"
"I have trust that the Wall will send their ravens in the event of that. Their ravens will be sent to all corners of the realm, whether they heed them or not."
"I would like to see it. The Wall. I would like to see this threat for myself."
"You don't need to go to the Wall for that."
He looked back to her in curiosity.
"Come with me after the Feast. I have something to show you."
"I look forward to it." He looked at her hand, noticing that she wore ceremonial dark lace gloves that were ringed over her middle fingers. "What do you make of you make of our proposed arrangement?"
Sansa sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them. "I must be honest. You are the son of the man who brutally murdered my uncle and grandfather and terrorized the realm."
"You do know that these are things that I cannot help nor change. I never knew my father. I never knew any of my family save for my sister. I never had the chance. But I'm here, aren't I? My people are in your castles, trading and lodging peacefully. Surely, you can see I can't be my father."
"Perhaps. I know that we are not your common court but we are our own people."
"Are you saying you will not join my kingdom?"
Her eyes narrowed at him. "Never. As for our proposal, I would consider it if you would."
"You would?"
She smiled and swirled the goblet of wine in her hand. "Of course, you do have a literal mountain of dragonglass, access to Valyrian steel and dragons. You are the best choice to face the Long Night. You are also of great, royal stock. And very handsome if you don't mind me saying."
He gave her a surprised look.
"Don't look like that. You know what you are by now. You're more than valuable. Still, I am not a blushing maid. I do not see you romantically as of now. It could grow into love, I'm sure. My parents didn't love each other at first either but if it gave me the alliance I seek I do not see how I couldn't grow to love you."
"Surely, you know that the Stark line ends with you no matter who you marry. If there are only you and your sister, your line can't go on."
"You're right. But if our line dies, may it die with a queen."
Again, his eyes drifted past her to Jeyne speaking with a cupbearer that had come around.
"She's a fickle one" Sansa said with a smile. "My sister has been beyond the Wall and consorted with the wild Free Folk and both did battle against them and befriended them. They are settled with us now. One might say she has the most wolf of us all northmen. We are careful with her. Has she interested you particularly?"
Daeron settled back into his seat and shook his head. "Not particularly. No."
The night's festivities would go long into the night when all of the food and drink would be consumed but Jeyne eventually had her fill of both that and the wayward lords who came to protest the presence of the foreigners and the foreigners themselves come to beg a fight with some northerner who irritated them. When she had enough, she recused herself to In her tower chamber. She had just crept back over from the chamber pot and limped back into her bed when there were knocks at her door. Then it was opened and her visitor walked right in, in skirts of black and deep scarlet. Her red irises flickered in the lights of the nearby fire.
Jeyne laughed sardonically. "Those guards. What's the point of them if they'll just let anybody in? Lady Melisandre, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Well evening to you, Lady Jeyne." She clasped her hands together below her waist and approached the foot of the bed. "I trust that the night has been both kind and comforting to you. Do not blame your guards. You haven't been one who's needed protection for quite a while. We can agree on that at least, can't we?"
Jeyne's eyes followed her as she drew close to her fireplace. Melisandre always seemed drawn to fire.
"Why are you still here?" Jeyne asked her. "Lord Stannis is gone and so are his wife and daughter. What else is there for you? Such a shame, too. All of that time was wasted."
"I am only human, Jeyne" she said with her back to the fire. "I err just like all others."
"Yes, but when you err, people die horribly."
Melisandre seemed to ignore that. "Time wasn't wasted. It all led me here to the true war. To you and to him."
"Him?"
"Do you know why we are so … connected? You and I? Because we are counterparts. Both opposite. And yet … the same."
Jeyne shook her head. "I don't know why I ever entertained this. You spout such nonsense."
"You believe yourself a servant of false gods …"
"They aren't false."
"Yet, you did what you did."
"That wasn't me!"
Melisandre rose a settling hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. I … only mean to say that whether you believe or not, the Lord of Light has grand plans for you. You are his sword."
Jeyne sighed. "I suppose I do know nothing."
"Neither of us do. Fire and Ice. Flame and Snow. Light and Dark. Opposites. They don't seem to mesh, do they?" She interlocked her fingers, one pair of knuckles over the other. "But what if they did? Light and darkness can be similar in many ways. Light is illuminating but those swimming in it cast a wide shadow. Perhaps that's why there are those who are suspicious of me. But what of those who thrive in darkness? If they cast even a tiny sliver of light, would it not appear blinding? You cast a bright cone of light indeed, Jeyne Stark."
Jeyne sighed and shook her head. This woman is as mad as me, sometimes. No. Madder, even.
"It's coming, Jeyne. And war will come with it. We'll be on opposite sides of battle. Enemies. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends while there's still light."
.
Sansa, Daeron and a small retinue from both their parties accompanied them to the cell tower.
"As I'm sure my sister has told you, she headed a hunting party to the Land of Always Winter to acquire proof of the Others' existence and threat."
"Yes, though she seemed … reluctant with the details" the king answered as he covered his nose lightly in an attempt to handle the rotted stench. They stepped down towards the dungeon.
"Yes, it was a miserable failure. What she didn't know was after she left to meet with you, we sent a second hunting party. And while lives were lost, it was a success as you'll see. Come"
She led them by lantern to the cells in the lower guard's hall. The guards on sentry dipped their spears at her appearance.
"Your Grace."
"Your Grace."
Sansa nodded at them. "How are they?"
One raised his half-helmed head defiantly. "They never stop, my Queen. They never sleep. Hewitt knows better than that inside."
Sansa nodded and continued on inside the cell area. Daeron could hear them before he saw; the harsh rattling of chains first, then the scraping of stone.
"They never stop, my Queen" the spear-wielding guard named Hewitt told them at their arrival. "Sometimes, they thrash. Sometimes, they don't and simply stare. Sometimes, they move together. Most often, they don't. Sometimes, that light in their eyes dim with their mouths biting at dust but just when you think they're done, they're right back at it again."
He looked at them. Seven of them were side by side to the wall at their wrists, ankles and throats whenever applicable as a few of them were missing limbs. Their eyes burned with blue radiance; a legitimate unnatural glow that shone like sparkling sapphire or even a blue fire. The black rags some of them wore had torn off by then and betrayed spots of decrepit bone and dry, blackened innards. One of them was hanging from the wall by the wrists as most of its legs were gone though it was undisturbed by this. Only two of them were mostly whole but none made sounds and only seemed to stare at Daeron all the while, following his every movement with their heads and eyes. He couldn't say it didn't make him feel comfortable.
"If free" Sansa said to him, "they would not stop until they rip you to pieces or they are destroyed. There are thousands of them at the Wall and not enough can be said of the Others who lead them. I do hope you don't need a demonstration of them."
Daeron looked at her. "Dragonglass can kill them?"
"And Valyrian steel. And Fire."
Daeron nodded. He stared right into the eyes of one of them as it continuously stared right back. "Then you shall have them all."
Some days went by and in the passing of that time, Daeron had flown Visenyx over the nearby landscape, passing over the wolfswood and awed many a settler who dwelled near there. He had made visits to the lichyard, where he saw Jeyne's white direwolf chase off anybody who neared a grounded door leading into the underground crypts.
He very nearly pulled his own blade and made for the creature.
"What are you doing?" Sansa asked him at the sight of this.
"I won't hurt it" he told her. "I'll just run it off."
She touched his shoulder and shook her head. "Don't do that. Ghost is a Stark companion, like your dragons. She is only protecting my sister."
"I …see" he said in acceptance.
"I used to have a direwolf as well" Sansa told him wistfully. "Lady, I named her. She was so pretty. But she died. Because of two foolish girls and a vile boy, a beautiful creature like that was killed. I can show you where her bones were put to rest."
She went on the lichyard, leaving him to look at the snow white Ghost. Ghost was nearly three times the size of a wolf and twice as dense by that point. She was larger than any of her littermates had ever been as well as their mother. He watched as she calmed and laid back down on the ground before the crypt door. Only after then did he walk on after Sansa.
He took walks with Queen Sansa to the godswood. When he saw the partially snow-covered weirwood, he found himself slightly disappointed. On Dragonstone, Jeyne Stark told him of the ringing shallow pool that shone scarlet and gold due to reflections of the leaves and the sun above. But that was in autumn. It was winter so the pool was dark and frozen. Queen Sansa wiped the snow from the weirwood's bark, revealing a carved, melancholic face and dark eyes with frozen red within making it appear like gouged sockets.
"The Heart tree used to frighten me as a little girl" Queen Sansa said to him as she stood between him and the tree. "Jeyne used them to tease me for it. I cherish those times."
"Jeyne …"
She turned to look at him and the look on her pretty face caused him to hesitate.
"You talk much of Jeyne."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I just suppose I'd speak of a topic you're most interested."
"What do you mean?"
She gave a haughty laugh. "What do I mean? I see the way you look at her."
He shook his head. "Please don't assume things. She was my one voice for the north save for my own Lady Mormont. She is just someone I'm fond of as an ally."
Sansa nodded and stepped towards him. "Yes. Well, Jeyne is very dear to me and I am conflicted but I would see her wed to a good lord and put out of this entire affair."
"I … see."
"Well, we have other matters to discuss such as our alliance. And whether or not we are betrothed."
He looked at her before the frosted Heart Tree. She was truly one of the most physically beautiful women he had ever seen. He imagined her as his wife and queen. "Yes."
She smiled again. "But I think even that subject is too stuffy for the time being. She turned back towards the Heart Tree's face. "Besides prayer, this is where all of our marriages are made as well. Did you know that?"
Daeron nodded. "I've read of it. Would you want that? If we were married? One before the Heart Tree?"
"We could do it in both the fashion of the old gods and the new. I mean, if you agree on our marriage."
"T-that would be fine … I mean, if you were … fine with it."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Daeron began chuckling despite himself. Then Sansa joined him. A king and a queen of two separate but possibly joining nations laughed together before the Heart Tree. His bloodriders and her household guard and defending Vale knights shared slightly uncomfortable glances.
After their laughter died down, she began to rehearse the ceremony of marriage before the Heart Tree.
"The groom and his party are already waiting at the tree when the bride arrives. A man, be it her father, her lord or a man of her choosing, will arrive with the bride. The bride wears a dress of white lambs-wool to signify her innocence and worth before the gods. The one presiding over the marriage, not a priest because we don't have those in the old faith, will identify both the groom and the bride. He will ask out loud as if to anybody, 'who brings this woman before the Heart Tree', by 'woman' I mean her name, of course. The man giving her away identifies himself. Then it is asked, 'who accepts …' "
.
That evening, Daeron was by himself walking near the lichyard when he saw the great Ghost again sitting near the ironwood door to the crypts. That meant that Jeyne Stark was inside. He couldn't reason why it bothered him so much that it had been some time since the two had spoken but it did. He approached the crypts before he even realized he made up his mind. Even as she laid in the snow, Ghost was nearly as tall as he was and he knew that she was much longer; He knew a thing or two about large, mystical creatures however. He considered reaching for his sword but decided against it. His daughters knew such gestures were threats so he reasoned that the direwolf would perceive it the same. They were predators but were forced to abide the presence of man.
It didn't take long for him to be noticed and he thanked the gods that he knew to be wary. It stalked towards him, swift and silent in all ways; if he was ever unfortunate enough to be stalked by it without Visenyx he would notice it only too late. He crouched low and held his hands up in submission. This wolf was not his dragon; he was attuned to and could avoid Visenyx's violence if need be. He would be at a disadvantage in defending himself from Ghost if she tried to kill him. Ghost bared her teeth silently and crept closer; she stopped and studied him for a moment or two, gathering his scent. He removed his right glove and reached the cautious hand out to her. Just before his hand managed to touch her face, she sauntered right on past him towards the castle walls, brushing his face with her soft, immense fur. Somewhat amazed at this action, he looked back at her. She stopped as if she felt his eyes on her and craned her neck around to look right back.
Is she only a direwolf? Like Visenyx, she acts quite human.
After her curiosity was abated, she turned back to the wall ahead of her and turned the corner to wander off somewhere else within the castle grounds. Daeron rose to his feet and stumbled towards the crypt entrance. The way downward was nearly completely dark save for scant lit torches in niches on either side of him. He took one from the wall and used it to light his way down the steps. Both walls were lined with statues of crouched direwolves that didn't depict Ghost properly. Among the last tombs he sighted due to several lanterns, he saw her. Her dress, skirts and hood were all in sky blue coloring and illuminated under light, while her dark curls spilled out over her face beneath her hood.
She kneeled at a tomb before a seated statue of a woman and placed a wreath of blue winter roses in a pit at its feet. Peering about, he saw that the entire crypt were rows of statues and tombs extending down a long hallway that wasn't completely lit at the end. All of them were former lords of Winterfell and Kings of Winter; Most of whom carried steel blades either in their hands or laps. In fact, she knelt at the only likeness of a woman in the hall. He could hear her whispering some words but couldn't make out what she said. He simply watched her for a bit and wondered if he had made a mistake and was unnecessarily disturbing her. She finally looked up and saw him.
She rose and gave a curtsy towards him. "Your Grace. I saw your light but hadn't expected it to be you."
He said nothing and approached her.
His silence made her apprehensive. She held her arms close to her body within her bright blue cloak with a certain awkwardness.
"I haven't seen you since I've first arrived, Lady Jeyne." He hadn't meant to phrase the statement like that but found himself saying it before he could help it.
"I … apologize. I thought it best that you and the queen acquaint yourselves before I meddled with my own plans. So much counts on your alliance."
"It was a mistake."
She was stunned. "What was, your Grace?"
"Staying away from each other. I've … missed our talks."
"That's … surprising."
Daeron knew of all the talk of Sansa Stark. She was objectively one of the most beautiful women among Westerosi nobility as a whole and one of the finest women seen by most. He supposed Jeyne was only pretty in comparison with her darker, brunette looks but he was simply more drawn to her. He found himself gazing into her dark grey eyes often when they spoke and waited on her every word while he acknowledged Sansa's beauty, he was simply cordial with her. It bothered him because the circumstances demanded a diplomatic relationship between the two.
He looked around to simply keep from staring at her so openly. "So, these are your Stark crypts? And who is this?"
His eyes settled on the statue lit by fire, among all the others. She was the sole woman among them. Then he realized.
"This is her, isn't it?"
She swallowed. "Yes. Lyanna Stark. My aunt. Prince Rhaegar's lover. Or his victim. Depending on which tales you believe."
He looked at her likeness. It was a statue so the details weren't all there but he could see a resemblance to Jeyne herself.
"It's strange, isn't it? The two of us here like this."
She snuck a glance in his direction and saw his eyes darting at her. She tried not to look at him. "If anything is destined, have it be with Sansa. She is both Stark and queen."
"Your queen doesn't impress me." He turned to her fully. "I had already met you. I came to your North and broke bread with your people. Feasted in your halls. All while I should've been taking my throne. I violated my own agenda. All because you've entranced me from the beginning. I didn't come here for Sansa. I came here for you. I want you."
She felt his fingers on hers and instinctively pulled away. "I should've known that your Targaryen ways would rear its head again. Just like your dragons, you think you can have everything you want."
"I just want you."
"Well, I don't want you! And don't think you can threaten the North over me either because I won't do that. Marry our queen or don't but don't throw everything away over a meager fancy. You wouldn't want to be like your brother, would you?"
With that, she hurried past him and fleed with her torch from the crypt. She left him there to ponder over Lyanna's likeness.