Sansa
The seamstress fitted her in a gown of ivory with long, flowing sleeves. The waist was tight, but she felt beautiful. And Prince Tommen would too. Even if it hurt to breathe. Mother gasped with tears in her eyes.
"Oh, you look so beautiful, my sweet girl."
"Could you brush my hair, mother?" Sansa asked. It was one thing she missed in Kings Landing, having her mother brush her hair. None of the servants do it right. Every night in the south was a dream come true, but she missed the small things. Sansa enjoyed organizing the balls and the masquerades in father's name. Nothing like it existed in Winterfell. All the ladies of the court fought like vultures for any time by her side. It made her feel like a queen, having everyone so desperate for her approval. I can't wait to be queen and have everyone love me
Mother nodded.
"I wish your father could be here with us." Mother chuckled. "I suppose he must be miserable in the South. When King Robert came to Winterfell, I did not think my Ned would be gone this long." Mother's hands shook as she brushed her hair. Poor mother, I don't think you'll recognize him.
"Father does his duty." Sansa replied. "He loves good King Robert."
Mother's hands steadied. "He does sweetling."
Father's hair turned more grey than brown over the years as his skin wrinkled under the weight of his office. Long, gaunt lines formed on his face. It made his grey eyes more piercing in the courtroom as he drove Lady Stokesworth to tears with a single glance. He did not ride a horse as he once did since his accident. A leg wound that refused to heal. Father melts in the south, decaying inside out. Grand Maester Pycelle begged him to take more days of rest, but father only shook his head. "I'll rest when Robert returns or the Others take me." Her pleas did as little as the Grand Maester. The Regency would kill father if he kept at the pace he rode. They would need a younger man to handle the vigor of the office and maintain the spoils they had gathered. But mother didn't need to know about any of it. She would only worry over father's health.
And father needed his rest in Winterfell. He didn't understand how to reach for things House Stark was clearly owed. We deserve it all for our services. And the more power her family held in the capital, the more she could do with it. Winter shall never come for House Stark.
Prince Tommen was very childish in his interests and it was a chore steering him in the right direction, but he was at least easy on the eyes. Days in the training yard turned him into a maiden's fancy. Sansa considered him a deadly puppy. One moment he was japing and the next he brutalized his opponent in the training yard beaming a bright smile at his victory. Once she would have adored the ground he walked on, but she had grown up. No longer did she dream of princes sweeping her off her feet. She dreamed of luxury and titles the crown could afford her and her family. The closer one sits to the Iron Throne, the more power one has. And power meant balls, feasts, crowds of wellwishers, and the finest jewels and clothes gold could buy. And the Summer of riches and parties would never end for House Stark.
"Do you think Prince Tommen shall like it?"
"He would be a fool, not too sweetling." Mother kissed her on the brow and Sansa surrendered to the warmth mother provided. It reminded her of charming days of girlhood before the games of court, when everything was simple. Days of snowball fights or silly childish pranks with her siblings. Though she didn't wish to go back to the drab walls of Winterfell. My wishes go beyond what they could provide. And in the Red Keep, she was without equal. Who could rival her? No one was above her social station in court. She was the daughter of the Regent of the Iron Throne and betrothed to the Crown Prince. Why wouldn't Prince Tommen love her? Septa Mordane told her she was perfect like mother and father always listened to mother. Father even gave mother a sept to pray to her gods. She took a bite from one of the lemoncakes. Prince Tommen would give her everything. Bran was his greatest friend. Her father ruled the realm for him and she was beautiful. He desires me. Every lingering gaze from him told her the truth. He's a love struck boy. And why shouldn't he be? I'm beautiful and a perfect, demure lady.
A Stark guardsman peered his head through and informed Princess Myrcella wished entry. Sansas mood soured and she shoved the lemoncakes away. I should refuse her. But it would be poor manners to slight her so openly even if she deserved it. "Is it okay, mother?" She voiced softly.
"Yes, darling." Mother kissed both of her cheeks. "I'll let you two spend some time with one another without the presence of an old woman. I'll take my leave."
"I love you, mother." Sansa hugged her before pulling away. "you are not so old, you know." Mother nodded and offered a kind word to Princess Myrcella as she left. Princess Myrcella, after birthing three children into the world, was still beautiful, with bright green eyes and a sweet voice. How irksome. Sansa thought. Once she had considered her a dear friend, but she knew the truth. A sweet monster is what she was. Myrcella is incapable of friendship or any sense of decency.
Princess Myrcella babbled cheerfully about how beautiful she looked like a false creature. Sansa returned the warmth with icy courtesy. "Oh Sansa, are you upset?" She gasped, appalled. "Whats the matter?"
"You know the reason." Sansa replied curtly. "tis why you are here trying to make amends."
"I'm confused." Princess Myrcella said. " I came because we are friends and I thought you wished for my company. Have I slighted you somehow? I'm very sorry if I have. Tell me what it is and I shall make it right, I promise." Her voice was filled with hope as Myrcella reached for her hands as if they were friends. For a moment Sansa weakened before ice filled her veins as she knew the truth. It was the mummery of a master actor and Sansa cursed herself for almost falling for it again. Varys was right about her. "The sweet princess, ever soft and kind, manipulates everyone around her. It's her nature." Varys voiced soft as silk. "You shall never be truly queen as long as she is near her brother's side."
"Why would she do this?"
Vary giggled. "Why control my dear lady. Control and power. Do you ask a viper why it kills? It's in its nature."
"And why have you helped me? What is your nature my lord?" Sansa asked, eyes narrowing.
"I wish the favor of the future queen and the ear of our future king. Your father has little love for me. A poor little spider out in the cold." It made sense to her. He wished to maintain his position in court and Sansa trusted in his self-interest. Who else would he turn to? And he proved an expert source of information for other ladies of court with eyes and ears even in the walls.
Sansa smacked them away. "You tested my virtue! Don't deny it! You had one of my ladies-in-waiting report my every move back to you!" And it was more than it. It still made her seethe, knowing Lady Rosamund encouraged her to engage in a dalliance with handsome Commander Harrion Karstark. She would have ruined me!
Myrcella didn't deny it. "Is that why you are upset? It was only if you showed any interest with any lords of court. And Rosamund was very clear you showcased interest. I honestly don't see the problem. No harm was done. You grew weak so I tested you and you passed as I always believed you would."
"You think no harm was done?" Sansa said appalled.
"Your being silly Sansa." Myrcella offered an apologetic look. "But I'm sorry for upsetting you."
A small moment passed as her eyes became as hard as ice. "No, you shall be sorry." Sansa vowed.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" A hint of worry in her voice.
Sansa smiled a small thing. "Stay out of my way or you shall find out. A Queen's ire is not easily forgiven."
Something flashed in Myrcella's kind eyes as her face twitched before she smiled sweetly. "But you are not queen yet, are you?" It sounded very much like a challenge and Sansa tensed.
"You threaten me in my home?"
"Never." Myrcella promised. "A simple observation. I expect a future queen to know the difference."
"I think it's best you retire."
It was a toothless threat. What could she do? Tommen was already smitten with her. Father and King Robert would never undo the match. She had no authority to see it undone. And Myrcella may be manipulative, but she was no killer. She was trying to unbalance her and force some error. But it would not work. She will not get what she wants.
Sansa took another bite out of her lemoncake.
Tommen
Lord Robb and Lady Wylla led the first dance.
Tommen thought they looked a happy enough couple. He pushed the plate away. No sweets for him. I love winning in the courtyard. And he followed Maester Colemons' suggestion for a healthy diet zealously. It was his responsibility as prince to do the right thing. It was a very challenging to do during a wedding, but he managed. Lord Arryn extended his hand to Myrcella and took her out to the floor like a knight of song. Myrcella accepted shyly with love in her eyes. If only my Sansa shall look at me like that one day.
He pushed his chair back.
Lady Sansa smiled sweetly, but he walked past her. Love he held for Brans family commanded him. "Lady Stark." Tommen dipped his head. "Would you wish a dance? I'm sure Lord Stark would wish such."
"Tis kind, my prince." Lady Stark demurred. "But I would prefer you to dance with my daughter."
Tommen nodded. "I still wish to see you smiling Lady Stark." He turned his head. "Ser Brynden, could you honor your niece with a dance?"
"Aye my prince. If Little Cat isn't opposed."
"Of course not, uncle."
Tommen hoped it would bring a smile to her face. He felt awful her husband couldn't be with them to celebrate the marriage of his firstborn. Father, you shame Lord Stark with every breath. A man who served the realm selflessly deserved to be with his loved ones. Instead, Lord Stark fulfills the duty his father should be handling. A Hand is no King and shouldn't be expected to bear the entire realm on his shoulders. A hint of fury grew in his chest.
When I'm king, things shall be different.
Sansa wrapped her hands around his neck as they swirled. "You were very sweet, my prince."
"It was the least I could do, my lady." Tommen replied. "Think nothing of it."
Tommen tried to keep his eyes focused on her bright blue eyes and not to stray below the neckline. I'm not some depraved prince. He wanted to kiss her pink, pouty lips. The one thing he knew they both loved. Though one needed more than kissing to make a strong union. He tried some of his best jokes on her trying to get a real laugh out of her. She laughed at all of them, but he knew it was a fake laugh. How did she not enjoy my knock knock castle joke. Even Bran liked that one. "My prince. I know the perfect fool from White Harbor. He would serve perfectly in our court. A good Northman. He was Lord Manderly's fool." He paused.
"Our court?" Tommen asked, puzzled. "You mean my court."
Sansa flushed prettily. "Forgive me, my prince, I'm so embarrassed for misspeaking."
And Tommen knew that was what it was. I'm nervous too. "Think nothing of it!" Tommen said cheerfully. "No harm was done. I find these dances make one say silly things. I pray you shall forgive me when I say something silly."
"You've said nothing silly, my prince." Sansa promised.
Tommen kissed her on the brow for that.
"My prince." Sansa blushed. "My thanks for your affection." They did some more dancing. Sansa was a wonderful dancer as he finished telling one of his pranks involving Bran and Lord Nestor's son. It was Brans' greatest idea. Samwell Royce was itching himself for weeks and every time Tommen struggled not to snicker.
Sansa smiled, and it was honest. And Tommen loved making her smile. She sighed. "May I speak candidly?"
"Always."
She bit under her lower lip.. "I shouldn't involve myself, but I know my father is losing trust in Lord Nestor's abilities. Rumor has it he shall be sacked. Wouldn't you support Lord Manderly as Master of Coin? He's a great lord whom knows his sums."
Tommen laughed, expecting some punchline that never came. He grew solemn. Why would Lord Stark do that? Tommen wondered. Was he trying to stack his father's court with his own banners? Tommen expected such a move from his grandfather, not his future good father. It didn't seem like something the Honorable Lord of Winterfell would do."Then I shall write to him to reconsider at once. Kings Landing is not Winterfell, my lady. The Vale should be represented in the regents councils." He spoke like a king. A voice that sounded a stranger. Lord Arryn would support him and with him he would secure the Lord of Riverrun and Lord of Casterly Rock to prevent Lord Starks position from growing beyond his station. Someone must be leading him astray. Lord Stark wouldn't do that, Brans father was a good man, fathers greatest friend.
"My father thinks of the realm." Sansa swore. "You know this to be true."
"It would be a mistake to replace Lord Nestor, and I shall make that clear." Tommen smiled. "But enough of this! It's a wedding, lets celebrate. A good day for Lord Robb and Lady Wylla." The concerns of the realm would wait for the morrow. "Excuse me, Lady Sansa, I wish to dance with my sweet sister." He exchanged partners with Lord Arryn.
Myrcella giggled, practically hugging him as they danced. "Are you enjoying yourself, brother? Lady Sansa is very beautiful." She teased.
"Even a bumbling blind bat could see such Cella!" Tommen snickered. "I'm very lucky."
"Yes, she is even more beautiful than mother." Myrcella admitted. "Though she would hate her. I'm so happy for both of you!"
And he supposed that was true.
He danced with Lady Wylla for a moment and congratulated her on the wedding. He danced with Alys Hornwood a fine dancer, Lady Jeyne Cassel seemed overwhelmed as they swayed together, he even danced with Arya for a little. He offered to let her lead, but she called him an idiot for suggesting it. Tommen snickered. Though the thought lingered about what Myrcella said. As beautiful as mother. It hit him in the middle of one of his japes. "Excuse me." Tommen left to grab a drink. As beautiful as my mother. Was Lady Sansa acting like his mother? She seemed to take a great interest in my court as mother would. Nothing else seemed to entertain her. All the small things, the gentle caresses, the lies, misspeaking, he waved off as being nerves. Most ladies were nervous around him. But mother did every one of those things with father. And she didn't like any of his jokes! Mother never liked my jokes.
Oh, she is. Tommen felt green. The realm can't handle Cersei Lannister. My realm..
"Are you well, my prince?" Ser Robar asked. "Bad fish?"
Tommen grimaced. "I wish."
He needed to confront her, but he needed to choose his field of battle well. Lord Arryn him did not raise him to be foolish, but showcase patience. If I do it here, I shall cause a scene with a lot of yelling. And he didn't want that. "Is there anything I can do, my prince?" Ser Robar offered.
"No, ser." Tommen brightened. "But that certainly helped!" Some woman just dumped ale all over Bran. He struggled for his breath, as it was hilarious.
It improved his mood greatly.
Bran
The Northern ale swirled in his cup, and he drank. It was his fifth cup, and he had just started to feel as light as a feather with an easy smile. Everyone was drinking to Robb and Lady Wylla. A sweet voice echoed around his skull. Bran tried his best to ignore his sister. A couple of nods as his eyes wandered around the halls looking for the prettiest serving girl to bed. Though the Ladies of the North were quite easy on the eyes, but he knew better than to bed them. Robb or father would likely force him to marry. And who wanted responsibility? Robb tried to tell him about his plans regarding him. "When spring comes, I intend to restore the New Gift to House Stark. I shall name you Lord of Queenscrown. A dozen holdfasts shall be sworn to you." Robb said. "You are my brother and shall be the shield for the North." His noble brother didn't understand the Dawn would never come. Bran dipped his head like a dutiful brother and said he was honored. It took every ounce of self-control not to kneel over in laughter. None of it mattered, anyway. The only thing that mattered was what he held in his hand.
"Brandon Stark, are you even listening to me?"
Bran smiled and yawned. "Yes, yes, something about being Hand or another dull title."
Sansa huffed. "Bran, you must take this seriously. You'll make a perfect Hand of the King. You are Prince Tommens' closest friend." She reached for his hand and squeezed. "We need to maintain the influence of House Stark in Kings Landing Bran. Father shall not remain." A hint of desperation in her voice. "It'll leave us vulnerable."
"The only thing I intend to Hand my dear Tommen is a cup of ale." Bran snickered. "Tom doesn't understand good vintage."
"I don't need you to do a damn thing. Spend the days in the Streets of Silk for all I care." She winced. "I only need you to wear the pin." Must be serious if Sansa speaks of brothels. It made him snicker, imagining turning the Red Keep into a giant brothel as Hand. Bran could throw the greatest parties since Aegon the Unworthy, but Tommen deserved someone who actually cared a lick. Though taking a whore on the Iron Throne could be fun…And it was tempting, very tempting.
Brans rolled his eyes. "I could do that without the title of Hand and they have such long hours and dull guests."
Her look was murderous.
The conversation was giving him a headache. If he didn't bolt, it would switch to her complaining about Cousin Jasper and the evil Princess Myrcella. And as enjoyable as it was seeing his sister rant about some absurd grand conspiracy involving sweet Myrcella, he'd rather spend the night with a woman he could bed. Moaning woman or irksome sister…tis not a hard choice.
"TOO ROBB! TO THE NORTH! TO HOUSE STARK!" Bran boomed, raising his goblet. Sansa likely wished to strangle him, but she would get over it. "WHERE ARE THE MEN OF THE NORTH! MY SISTER NEEDS A LORD TO DANCE WITH!"
"To House Stark!" Drunken replies filled the halls of his father. And his lovely sister was not short of admirers as Ser Wendel quickly offered his services and Sansa demurred. Poor Tommen. Sansa was going to nag him into a drunken stupor. He shall make good company! In the distance Bran noted Robb surrounded by his High lords. A bunch of dull old greybeard whom would bore him to tears. Do you think winter will be harsh? Will Winterfell march come spring against the King Beyond the Wall? A thousand vexing problems he didn't wish to concern himself with. Thankfully, Robb is the heir. He searched for Tommen and saw him dancing with Princess Myrcella, and he looked happy. Maybe I should warn you Tommen about your dangerous sister. Bran almost guffawed at the absurdity. Come on Sansa, Princess Myrcella couldn't hurt a fly. Once she shrieked at the sight of a mouse scurrying along the floor. What master manipulator would be afraid of a mouse? Cousin Jasper was holding a hushed conversation with mother and Ser Brynden. It looked a bit heated, but it might be the ale making his eyes water.
Bran found the right company with the Stark guardsman. They knew how to have a good time with the crass humor of soldiers. "You had enough, milord?" Renard asked, rubbing his chin.
"It's a wedding!" Bran grinned. "And I'm still thirsty. Mayhaps you need the wet nurse ser. You teeter like a girl."
Renard snorted.
"It's good to be among men of the North. The beer isn't sweet shit." Bran slurred.
"Fuck, we aren't southern flowers in their fancy suits." Arwen said. "Tis good to have you home, my lord. Lord Starks boy is home!" Men smacked him on the back.
"TO HOUSE STARK!" Bran cheered. "AND CROWNED PRINCE TOMMEN TOO! OUR FUTURE KING! CHEER FOR HIM YOU FUCKERS!" And his father's men did so. Tommen, the brave fool, believed they could save the realm from the monsters of song. He has the heart of a true king. Bran knew better, but he would stick with him to the end. I try to believe in the dawn…I try so hard to believe. But it was hopeless. Men had no hope against such reckless evil. Flesh and bone would yield to fire or ice. Or the waves…The waves scared Bran the most. A serving girl provided a useful distraction. Soft lips he kissed as he pressed her against the stone wall of the hallway. She was an amazing distraction.
"I thought I would find you here." A creepy voice tossed cold water on the flame of passion. "I dreamed I would find you here. You shall accept your destiny this night. A song as old as the land of Winter."
"Fuck off." He slurred as he kissed her neck.
The creepy bastard remained behind them with dark green eyes. Bran twisted around wroth. "I said fuck off. Can't you see I'm busy?" When he didn't move Bran grew angry. "I don't know what the fuck you're drinking, but back the fuck up. I am Brandon Stark." The young man was Jojen Reed, the heir of Greywater and was a pain in his ass. Bran caught him staring at him once or twice in the courtyard when he sparred with Tommen. It made his skin crawl the way he looked at people. As if he knows their fates. But he was just some queer, no doubt.
"I know who you are. I'm to help you." Jojen said, unbothered.
"Milord." The serving girl squeaked and took her leave quickly. Was she not enjoying herself? Bran thought, worried. She never protested his advances and seemed to enjoy herself. It was a terrible thing to force oneself on a woman. A hint of shame flushed his cheeks at the possibility, but it turned to anger at the irritating voice.
"Tis good. She is gone. We have much to speak on Lord Brandon."
Bran smiled." Yes." He choked the bastard with one hand, lifting him off the ground. The man was small. Jojen tried to pry his fingers away, but his blood was hot. He tightened the grip. "Listen here friend, stay the fuck away from me. Or Lord Howland shall find himself a new heir. Nod your head if you understand." He commanded.
Jojen face turned purple. "Dawn." He spluttered. "You named your direwolf Dawn."
"What of it?"
"The Old Gods have chosen their champion. It's why you named him Dawn."
Bran dropped him, laughing. I named him Dawn for the Sword of the Morning. Before he dreamed, he wished to be a man of the kingsguard and Ser Arthur was the best of the best. "You sad shit for believing in that nonsense." He turned from him. "The Old Gods don't care for us. They laugh at our tears. And they don't care enough to save any of us. The story of man shall end." Life wasn't like Old Nans' stories. The Age of Heroes shall never come again. Bran the Builder built the Wall to safeguard the living from the darkness, but it would fall. Bran dreamed of it falling. He knew it in his bones. And what did it accomplish? It only postponed the inevitable. Bran helped him up. "Fuck a girl Jojen. Or whatever you want. It could be a lizard for all I care. Drink. Sing songs. Stop listening to your dreams. You are wasting what time we have. Enjoy living while you still can."
"You've yet to open your eyes." Jojen replied in a deadpan voice. "You shall see, though. I've seen it."
He returned to Robbs' celebration in the Great Halls still fuming at his ill luck. The room was more sparse as they had carried Robb off with his blushing bride. Though it faded when he was approached by a slender woman with budding breasts. A bit plain, but a little wild with her unkempt hair. Unlike her brother, she wasn't a creepy little fuck. He imagined her naked and smirked. "I wish words with you, Lord Brandon. May I have you for a moment?"
"Soon it shall be Ser Brandon Lady Meera." He gave a devilish grin as he kissed the back of her hand. "I'm rather skilled with a sword, you know." It could make a maiden in Cousin Jasper's halls blush, but Lady Meera only rolled her eyes.
"As you say, but I only wish to do some talking."
"Dancing first." Bran grabbed her hand. "I don't think you've ever had a proper dance. I shall remedy such."
"I've danced before."
"But never with me." Bran placed his hands around her hips. "I'm really good." And he showed just how good he was. All the dumb dancing lessons Cousin Jasper insisted he partake in as part of his knightly education. He twirled her around with perfect grace and brought her in close. "Impressed yet?"
"You are a fine dancer, Lord Brandon." Lady Meera admitted. "But I did not come over to dance. My brother has-"
"I could show you how I kiss." He winked. "You are thinking of it. I can tell." Bran grinned.
Lady Meera smiled. I always get my maiden. It was too easy. "Oh, close your eyes, my lord. I wish to give you a gift." And he knew the gift she craved.
Bran closed his eyes and leaned forward.
Wine spilled all over him. "What the-" He wiped it from his eyes.
"Your gift, my lord." Lady Meera voiced with disgust as laughter spluttered throughout the hall. She stormed off as he combed his hair behind him, oddly amused. He stared at her retreating form and he smiled. She spurned me? Lady Meera was certainly a special one. The disgust in her voice bothered him lightly, but he waved it off. I know she wanted to kiss me. Bran could tell.
Tommen joined him with a shit eating grin and offered a handkerchief. "She seemed very nice. You should apologize."
Bran accepted it and chuckled. "Never apologize Tommen. Only thing worse is talking about her feelings."
"I love when they talk about it. You can become great friends afterwards." Tommen said.
"My point exactly." Bran said.
"You should court her! I shall help you." Tommen beamed with excitement. "You would make a great pair."
Bran wrapped his arm around Tommen. "Good man! But I have no interest in Meera Reed." And if the Gods weren't complete shits he wouldn't see her or Jojen Reed again.
But the Gods are shits.
Jasper
Jasper leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched Myrcella brush her golden hair. He was content to just watch her. Dancing with her during Cousin Robbs wedding it was like falling in love with her all over again. She knows I'm watching, but pretends otherwise, humming The Seasons of My Love. It was his favorite song. Myrcella turned her head, smiling. "Jasper, did you just walk in?"
"Yes Myrcella." He coughed. "Children are abed and safely secured." He even had the servants send for more blankets. It was very drafty in their quarters. And he didn't want them to catch a chill.
"It took you a while. Did they get another story out of you, my stern husband?" Myrcella teased.
Jasper snorted. "It was practical. Now they'll have pleasant dreams and get a good night's rest." They'll be crabby little crabs otherwise. And he enjoyed seeing the love in their big eyes. Roland slept with his toy horse Sword. A horse always needed a good name. He wanted a toy sword, but he was still far too young for that. Alyssa with Lady Sunshine, a doll he ordered from Braavos. It was easier to wage war than separate her from her doll. My darling children. Brynden slept in his crib with falcons hanging over his bright blue eyes. He had the classical Arryn coloring. Jasper saw nothing of Myrcella in him. I still love him, though.
Myrcella batted her eyelashes. "I'm very cold husband."
"I see.' Jasper remedied it quickly in a storm of blankets, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth.
"Jasper-" Myrcella squealed in protest. "This is not what I wished."
"Well, it's what I wished." Jasper laughed. "Ha! I win!"
Myrcella pouted. "I'm still cold." She chattered her teeth.
Jasper rubbed his chin. "Well, help me out, my intelligent wife. Would more blankets solve it?." Myrcella shook her head. "Fewer blankets?"
"Yes!"
He removed the blankets and clothes and made love to his wife. When they were done, she lay sprawled over him with a thick fur blanket on top of them. Myrcella traced a finger over his chest and Jasper was beyond content holding her. When he was a boy, he wanted this badly even when he gave up all hope of achieving it. A family who loved him. I don't feel lonely anymore He had everything he could want Myrcella his sweet wife, three beautiful children, wards he considered little brothers. Tommen was growing into a prince he would one day call his king with pride. Somehow, he did something right with him. Bran was becoming skilled in arms even if he acted a boy still. One day he would be a man worthy of his name. Even Robert seemed to be doing well. His health had improved modestly and he would one day take a wife of his own. Not even Jon Arryn was blessed like this. I don't deserve any of this. Lord Jon Arryn knew what As High as Honor actually meant He was As High as Honor! Unlike me.
And Jasper would never know it. He was a kinslayer and a liar.
Yet, House Arryn had never been stronger. A Valyrian steel sword earned by his talent, marriages and fosterings with the Crown, happy quiet banners, and soon the Office of Hand would be his own. A thousand other victories big and small to his name, but with every year he felt more and more a Falcon of Summer. Grand Uncle Brynden claimed this was wisdom, but he was never more sure he wasn't as wise as a lord should be. The Vale deserved better than the mummery he played for everyone. Theconflict was obvious to Myrcella, whom read him like a book. "something troubles you. Tell me."
"I'm fine." Jasper shifted, embarrassed. "It doesn't matter. Just sleep Myrcella and dream something sweet."
"Jasper. Tell me. I can't sleep knowing you are unwell."
"It's nothing." He coughed.
"Don't lie to me Jasper. Please tell me." Her arms wrapping arounding his neck in a tender embrace.
He held her gaze for a moment before caving to his dainty wife. I don't want her to have a restless night of sleeping. Jasper took a moment to gather his thoughts. It was still challenging speaking about his heart, even with Myrcella. It felt girly. "The last time I was within these grey walls I was a lonely man who sought more than his honor." He paused awkwardly. "I should have been satisfied with honor alone, like an Arryn should but I wished family Myrcella. I thought the Starks of Winterfell were my last chance and, like most things, I tried very hard only to ruin everything." "You wish to fight, bastard? I'll teach you honor. I'll teach it to you, damn it." The bitterness of the memory had faded to embarrassment.
"Oh, Jasper-"
"Then I was betrothed to you and formed a little flock with you." He grabbed her hand. "I've never felt lonely in our entire marriage. Every day is a new adventure." The happiness in his breast spilled out into his voice. "I don't know how it happened. It still doesn't feel real. It feels a dream." And he never wished to wake. "I know I don't deserve any of this. I made so many mistakes. I'm still that same unworthy youth that rode through the Gates of Winterfell." He winced. "And one day soon I shall earn the office of my father and I'm no wise lord. I'm not Jon Arryn. I hoped I would have become more like him." The days in the Eyrie wouldn't last, he would have to head to the capital to defend his ward. Arryn honor demanded it. I know that much, at least.
Already had he made the easy choice to defend Prince Tommen and his children. The Lannisters sent the daggers with my backing. The Lannisters did the planning, for it was their world of daggers and poison. Jasper knew little of such things and the less he knew, the more he could wash his hands of it. The Mad Kings daughter would never take his little family away from him. Lord Stark wouldn't understand and would punish them if he discovered it. Nor father or any Arryn before him. Jasper thought sadly. However, the Blackfish taught him to defend his family. It was the only way. Swords nor gold would defeat dragons. The alliances he had formed would melt like summer snow to dragonflame. What was one more stain on my cloak?
A man had to protect his family.
He swore an oath.
Myrcella caressed his cheeks with both hands. "You are imperfect." Jasper knew it was true and nodded. He wished it was otherwise. "You are so imperfect and flawed, Jasper, but you are my knight in shining armor. You rescued me from my tower and wrapped your cloak around my shoulders like a knight from song. The Kingsguard have nothing on you." He reddened. "I've seen how hard you perform for everyone trying to be this Lord of the Eyrie. I see all the effort. You are As High as Honor to me." Words that had him gawking like a fool.
"Myrcella-"
"No, ser." She said with conviction. "You are As High as Honor." Jasper flushed redder than his auburn curls he wanted to disappear into the sheets. The words were too good for him. "Listen to your wife Jasper. You are a good man. A good father and husband. I love you with all my heart." She kissed him chastely on the lips. "I would marry you again if I could."
"Do you really believe this, Myrcella?" His voice was small. Jasper didn't believe it could be possible.
Myrcella kissed him again.
He grinned like a boy. "Princess Myrcella of House Baratheon, will you marry me?" He voiced with perfect courtesy kissing the back of her hand.
Myrcella blushed. "Yes, Lord Arryn, I accept your proposal in the sight of the Old Gods and New."
He seized her lips in a kiss.
Bran
The banging against the door made Bran wish for death. Give me some ale and let me die. He put a pillow over his ears and closed his eyes. The Greatjon was far worse than him, likely dead in the stables. The after celebration was wild, even for him. Everything was a blur, but he recalled vaguely Tommen punching Cley Cerywn in the jaw. A perfect punch, too. A pitcher of water stood by his bedside and it was Tommens' doing. Bran smiled. Another round of banging. Bran groaned as he rose from the floor. Winterfell better be under siege by wildlings or whomever was knocking would regret it.
More knocking.
Bran undid the hatch and flung it open and groaned. "It's you. Come to throw wine in my face?"
Meera Reed entered without his leave. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed with a furious expression. "Go on, come on in." Bran said. She started yammering about creepy Jojen and his treatment of her brother. The creepy shit deserved it. He drank some of his water, bored by her conversation, and tried to ignore it.
"No need to use your brother as a shield. You just wanted an excuse to see me." He smirked. "You didn't need to do that." He winked.
She looked revolted. "HOW ARE YOU NED STARKS SON? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? THE GODS GAVE YOU GIFTS! AND HERE YOU COWER LIKE A CRAVEN BEHIND THE BOTTLE!" Jojen must have told her. Damn fool knowing was the worst. And the Reeds were fools for believing they stood a chance. Jojen didn't see enough. The strength of men couldn't withstand what was coming. Not even the full strength of the House of Dragon could stop the winter that never ends. Why should they try? Why should they waste their time were destined to win?
Bran scoffed. "You think this is a gift?" He laughed. "You don't know what I've seen. What I know comes!" His blood burned hot. Cities falling into the waves. Fire burning castles to ash. Monsters of ice killing the living. Every dream was worse than the last and he understood none of them save the feeling of doom and despair. "I DID NOT ASK FOR ANY OF THIS!"
"And do you think Bran the Builder asked for it?"
"I'm not Bran the Builder." He scowled before snickering. "Now get out." She gazed at him with disgust, as if he was the monster. The gods are the bastards to blame, not me.
Lady Meera shook her head and sighed. Then she took a seat on the edge of his bed. "And is there nothing worth fighting for, Lord Brandon?" There was much to fight for. Bran thought about mother and father. Robb. Sansa. Arya. Baby Rickon. Jon. He thought of Hodor and Old Nan. Princess Myrcella. Dawn. Cousin Jasper. And he thought about Tommen. Loyal and good-hearted Tommen. The best friend a man could have.
"I see no victory. Only death." He whispered. "Always death." His voice trailed. "There is no hope."
"You're afraid."
Bran held his silence before nodding lightly. Everyone should be pissing themselves.
"There is still hope, Bran." Her eyes shined with hope. "You are a Stark of Winterfell, you must fight." Lady Meera said. "If you don't fight, we shall lose for certain. Think of your loved ones, Bran." It was the first time she called him Bran. He held his silence and his father's words rang out. The only time a man can be brave is when he's a afraid. And Bran was afraid. The things weren't human and sent a chill down his spine.
"How?" His voice was cool. "Answer me that, my lady. The legends are little more than stories. The lessons of magic are gone." They had lost the knowledge they needed to the ages. None of his research turned anything up.
Lady Meera nodded. "Talk to my brother. Talk to Jojen. He shall explain this better than I."
Bran smirked. "I rather you explain it to me, my lady." He winked.
"Fair effort, my lord, but my brother shall serve." Her face betrayed no amusement.
He snickered.
Tommen
Ser Mouse was as dark as midnight, with little white paws that reminded him of boots. I almost named him Boots. Tommen held him close to his chest as he fed him little pieces of fish out of his hands. He kissed his cheeks with his little tongue. Tommen giggled. "Stop it Ser Mouse! No more kisses. Eat your fish! Be good!" Lord Arryn told him if he defeated enough Northern lordlings in the courtyard, he could take one of the Winterfell strays back home with him. I would take them all back, but we don't have enough room. Ser Mouse was terribly grumpy, but he loved belly rubs and would be marvelous friends with Ser Pounce and Lady Whiskers. He finished eating his meal, but Tommen still held him. Behind him, boots struck the carpet and Ser Robar, dressed in his wintery cloak, had found his quandary. Lady Sansa was beyond beautiful, but he hardened his heart. For those who died for him, he owed it to them to be firm like Aegon the Conqueror. Tommen thought of Jon Waynwood and Ser Arys and every man who could die for him if he allowed himself to act as a boy. I'm the Crown Prince. It's my duty.
"Lady Sansa!" Tommen smiled. "You look beautiful. Please join me tis a lovely view." It was a wonderful view of the Godswood in the distance. House Stark afforded him one of their finest rooms as the highest ranked member within the grey walls of Winterfell.
"Thank you, my prince." She chimed. "What a handsome fellow."
"This is Ser Mouse. Would you wish to hold him?" It might make the next moments more bearable. A hint of disgust in her eyes at his mangy coat, but Sansa nodded her head eagerly. It seemed something his mother would have done.
"I would love to, my prince."
Ser Mouse hissed when she extended her hand out to stroke his fur. Sansa quickly retreated her hand.
Tommen bobbed him on the nose. "Bad Ser Mouse. Tis a lady. Sorry." He smiled. "I'm still teaching him manners."
Sansa took no offense. "I'll confess, my prince. I'm at a loss to why you send brave Ser Robar to retrieve me." She brushed a loose strand of hair to the side. "It's irregular, is it not?"
"Honesty my lady." Tommen said solemnly. "I wish to have a moment of honesty between you and me." Ser Mouse purring was reassuring as he stroked him. He sent Ser Robar to man his post by the door with a wave of his hand. "You harbor ambition in your heart, my lady. Don't deny it. I'm not upset. I just want you to admit it." Ambition that would leave my Realm weakened and torn asunder. Mother's ambition killed tens of thousands, including brave Ser Kevan. Alicent Hightower's ambition tore apart the realm as well. I shall not always wonder if my wife is on my side? How can I rule the realm if I'm watching over my shoulder?
I'm not my father content to let my wife's family run the realm.
"Whatever do you mean, my prince? I only wish to be a good wife who shall bear you strong sons."
"I said don't deny it." Tommen darkened. "What you just did was a mistake. Correct it and admit it. You seek to profit off my crown. Titles. Wealth. You wish it all, don't you? You wish to pillage my court like a thief in the night." She quivered before his raised voice like a scared doe. Tommen didn't feel any sympathy for her. He wasn't convinced she was even scared. She feigns weakness to get me to stop.
"I cannot admit to something I have not done, my prince. I'm loyal to you."
"Sansa-"
"I swear, my prince, I have never once harbored a single terrible thought!"
Tommen sighed. Forgive me Bran. "I believe you." He lied. "Forgive me, my lady, but I needed to be sure. You are to be my queen. I needed to be sure." He dipped his head respectfully. "Do you forgive me?"
Sansa nodded. "Treason is an ugly thing. A prince has to be cautious." Her hand caressed his cheek. "but you don't need to be cautious of me." Tommen felt his heart quickened in his chest. She's really beautiful. Ser Mouse purring kept him focused. It was why he met with Sansa with his friend in his arms. His little friend reminded him to look only in her eyes and not her good heart.
"You have my thanks." Twisting away from her. "But I also wish to be honest with you. May I?"
"There shall be no secrets between us." Sansa promised.
Tommen smiled. "You know, my lady, I have not told many souls this, but I'm happy my brother is dead. I know what he was. A sadistic monster that preyed upon innocents." He paused, hearing their painful whimpers, and swallowed. "Who tormented every living thing he met. He hurt Bran and he would have hurt you."
"Prince Joffrey was terrible." Sansa chimed, resting her hands over his shoulders. A gentle caress. "You are nothing like him, brave and gentle. A true knight of the Vale." And he tried to be that every day of his life. He enjoyed playing jokes with his friends and enjoying making people laugh, but he enjoyed other things, too.
"Am I?" Tommen asked. "I love killing Sansa, I really do. I wish I didn't, but I do."
"You are very protective, I know. Your skill of arms is apparent to me." Sansa smiled, cupping his cheek.
"Sansa, I'm being serious." Tommen lowered his voice. "I love killing my enemies."
Her lower lip trembled, and he pressed on. "When I killed the Greyjoy woman, she gurgled on her blood. It was a sweet sound, like the greatest song the world has ever heard. Nothing comes close. I never wanted it to stop. It sounded pathetic and amazing." Tommen chuckled. "She tried breathing, but couldn't as her lifeblood gushed out. I've forgotten my friend Jons face, but I recall her last moments perfectly. It's one of my happiest memories. I felt a king that day." Sansa looked white as snow growing more and more horrified in his presence as she tried to keep her hands steady. "I suppose I have a bit of Joffrey in me, my lady, and I know what he would do to an ambitious wife." The threat would linger in her mind and would keep her honest. It was the only way he was going to get through to her. I tried to talk with her about it, but she forced my hand. Fear is what was left to me.
Tommen brightened. "But we won't have that problem. We are going to be the best of friends! You shall be my loyal wife! And I shall dote on you!"
"Yes, my prince. Very gallant of you." Sansa spluttered as white as a ghost. "I wish to depart, my prince. I'm exhausted."
Ser Mouse hissed to be put down. "Okay, I'll put you down." Tommen gave him one last scratch behind the ears.
"I shall escort you then!" Tommen beamed and entangled his arms with her own. He hated the way she looked at him, like he was some monster. Any woman would look at him like that for admitting he loved killing. But she gave him little choice. He had to scare her. The realm couldn't handle another Cersei Lannister. I may enjoy killing, but I wish to give the realm peace and fields of sweets. And he wanted nothing more than for the maesters to write of his reign as a peaceful one. Yet when he drifted off to sleep later that night, her fearful gaze tore at him. I don't think we shall have a loving union. Tommen snuggled with Ser Mouse. His coat shined after he gave him a bath. He didn't like it much. The realm can't handle the return of my parents. The books of kings told him this was true. Maybe they would love their children at the least? Tommen hoped so. Lord Arryn taught him of honor and he would keep his oaths.
"Good night Ser Mouse." He kissed his furry friend. "Sweet dreams."
Tommen dreamed of rivers of chocolate and trees of orange tarts. He played with a herd of cats who drowned him in kisses. A couple of puppies were flying with beautiful wings. "Tommen." A familiar voice said above the mountains of vanilla cake. "Wake up!" He woke up from his dream starving.
Slap!
"Arya-" Slap!
"I'm up!" He caught her next blow as she smirked. Tommen nursed the skin where she had struck him. It stung. The hour was late, with only the tiniest hint of daybreak on the horizon.
"Get up, you lazy prince!" Arya barked with a stern gaze. "I challenge you to a duel of honor for the right to marry my sister. And I shall not go easy on you!" Her voice turned playful. "I have a promise to keep, you know." She winked. And it sounded amazing. A duel with Arya Stark was worth waking up from his dream. Tommen jumped up, kicking his covers off, still in his night clothes, otherwise he would be red as a tomato. "What fun!" The duel shall be a legendary affair worthy of song. He would smack her around and she would hit him hard. Both of them would sweat and have a lot of fun. Yet his bright feelings dimmed as he recalled his talk with Sansa and his shoulders drooped. Tommen grabbed his arm.
"I don't know Arya." He said sheepishly.
Arya crossed her arms. "Whats wrong with you? You have a problem fighting me or something?"
"What? No, I would love to." Tommen sulked. "I'm just in a poor mood, I guess. Princely business it weighs heavily today."
His fierce friend softened and joined him on the edge of the bed. Ser Mouse crawled over and sat on her lap. Arya stroked behind his ears. "Well, I don't much about princes." She admitted. "but I know your shit at brooding Tommen."
Tommen scoffed. "I can brood if I wish." He crossed his arms, suddenly annoyed with her.
Arya rolled her eyes. "Whats a cat's favorite color?" He flinched as his lips threatened to twirl up. "Purrple." She finished, and he cracked up, snickering.
"Not fair." He said in between laughs. "That was too funny."
"Stop your sulking Tommen, you're not any good at it." She brushed a loose strand behind her ear. "Have some fun with me. You'll forget about whatever troubles you for a few hours." And it sounded amazing. Tommen wrestled with it for a moment before grinning.
"Alright Stark! You have yourself a duel!"
Arya
The practiced swords kissed throughout the godswood with the first rays of sun creeping over the edge. It bathed them in light as sweat poured down her brow. They matched movements, and even from the start, he didn't hold back because she was a girl. It was thrilling having him treat her like a peer. Arya loved every exchange of the duel as she struggled for every breath. Tommen had given out more than she gave. Her eyes lingered on his chest. A strong chest that Sansa must dream about running her hands through. "Not bad for a pissy prince." Arya mocked.
Tommen smiled. "I don't know. I thought you would have been better than Bran."
"I'll knock you down for that!"
She lunged quick as a cat for his chest. A lesser man and she would have drawn blood. Tommen sidestepped with a natural athleticism and brought down the sword with full force. The contact made her knees almost buckle as she retreated from his relentless onslaught. The respite was brief as she stumbled backwards off-balanced. A blow smacked her hard on the shoulder and sent her to the snow. The snow was frigid, but her cheeks warmed with the tip of Tommens' blade pointing at her neck. Arya was furious at losing. She wanted him on the ground with her sword against his neck. "Yield!" He declared his voice as forceful as a king.
A light flurry of snow melted against his blond curls. Tommens' handsome face gazed down at her with delicate lips. A stupid notion flashed through her mind. I must have hit my head.
"I yield." She mumbled.
"You are so amazing, Arya! You are going to be cutting down men like a knife through butter!" Tommen beamed every limb, jumping with excitement. She blushed. "I thought you had me once or twice. You are so fast, like a cat, and your blows were strong and perfectly angled. You wasted no energy." Her blush extended down her neck. She felt like a stupid mute, suddenly tongue tied as he named her better than Bran. "When Lord Arryn knights me one day, I shall knight you. I care not the fool they shall name me, skill is skill!Skill of arms should always be rewarded and it shall be so by my honor as a prince!" I'm a Stark of Winterfell, a ward of Bear Island, a warrior and I'm blushing. Everything burned even in the snow and she wanted to bury her face in it like some craven.
He offered a hand, which she simply stared at.
The stupid notion grew in her mind louder than the sound of her heart beating in her chest. Shut up! Shut up! Arya thought. Where is this coming from? Why am I thinking that? That's so fucking stupid. I must have hit my head. And she resolved to remain as strong and taciturn as a bear to weather this affliction. Her heart stilled, and she accepted his hand. Everything was going well and then Tommen smiled that damn smile. She surrendered to the stupid notion and yanked him forward. "Ar- "Silencing him with a kiss. Arya battered his lower lip in a different sort of duel. One she didn't understand fully, but was determined to win. She paused briefly for breath and he returned the favor, capturing her lips as his hands drifted down her sides. She crushed his delicate blond strands underneath her fingers. Their bodies stumbled into the bark of a tree, sending a sheet of cold snow over them. Chilling her to the bone and separating them as they both rubbed the snow off the other. It returned a sense of reason to her mind as she realized what she had done.
He is Sansas betrothed! The Heir to the Iron Throne! The ramifications to her family swirled in her mind. She thought of father's long face and how disappointed he would look.
"We kissed." Tommen said stupidly as his eyes drifted over her chest before shaking his head quickly.
Arya flushed.
None of Syrios wise advice came to her to calm the shakiness in her body, nor any stern lessons under the supervision of Maege Mormont. She felt weak, like a girl, and it sent fire into her veins. I shall not be weak. And her dagger pressed to the edge of his neck. "And we shall do no more! Speak a word of this to anyone and I'll geld you!" Arya voiced with steel.
His eyes widened. "Why did you kiss me?" Tommen whispered, cheeks reddening and not from the snow.
"You kissed me back!"
Arya knew she could not give him an answer, even if she wished. There was much to like about Tommen, but she had never thought of him as a match. Why would she? I know who he'll always choose. A boy would always choose Sansa over her and he had been promised to her. Arya refused to think of it. It would only hurt her worse than a sword in the training yard. "I- "He began
"I don't care why, you will speak no more of it!"
Tommen nodded quickly.
Arya left him feeling stupider with every step. Did anyone see them? No, we were in a secluded area. No one saw them. If they did, they would no doubt see how stupid she felt. Oh Sansa would hate me. And they had finally started treating the other as sisters. Guilt ate at her, but she was taking this to her grave. Why did I kiss him? Jory would say she should have taken him against the snow like a wildling woman, like one of her songs. Why did I kiss him? Syrio would tell her some confusing proverb that made her head spin, but made sense as well. Why did I kiss him? Mother would pale as white as snow and would forbid her any further contact. Why did I kiss him? Robb would defend her and blame Tommen. Why did I kiss him? Father would gaze at her long and hard with disappointment. Everyone around her would tell her something different, but Arya didn't know what she thought. Tommens place was in the south, a monstrous throne of the conquered. A throne so large it would swallow him whole. He fears the throne of Kings. Arya recalled. Behind the bright smile, he was scared and he should be. When Arya imagined the future, it was always in the north serving Robb as a leal bannerman marching to war with the Mormont girls. Marrying a son of the North if he proved acceptable. Never the south so far away from the grey walls of Winterfell.
Tommen made good company…If only you were a Northern banner. It wouldn't be awful marrying him. Though it didn't matter, he would choose Sansa at any rate. She'll make the better Queen.
"Arya! Wait up!"
Arya ran faster as his footsteps grew closer, and she felt trapped. His hand grabbed her shoulder. Arya spun around, slamming her boot against his foot, and sent her fist flying. Tommen grabbed her hand and brought her in as he grimaced in pain. She struggled to little avail against his iron grip. "Let me go! What are you doing?"
"Listen to me, Arya." Tommen breathed heavily. "It was just a dumb kiss in the heat of the moment. It means nothing. I've seen men do strange things during fights. They piss themselves, they shit themselves, some cry uncontrollably, others laugh as if it was a funny jape. Why not kissing? I'm sure I'll kiss Bran one of these days." She snickered at the thought. "We are going to laugh about this some day." Tommen promised. And she believed him.
"Yes." Arya nodded her head stoically. A sense of control returned to her. "That's what happened. It makes a lot of sense."
Tommen offered his hand. "Friends Stark?"
Arya shook it.
"Excellent!" He smiled. "Friends are a precious thing, Arya. I hate to have lost you because of some silly kiss."
"And you weren't any good at it, anyway." Arya lied.
"Exactly! I was awful!" He snickered. "Though here is a funny thought. Imagine my father and Prince Rhaegar kissing on the Trident." Arya laughed loudly. "It was not my father's hammer that killed him! Embarrassment killed Prince Rhaegar! That's how it went down." He said with complete certainty.
"Mayhaps." Arya smirked. "He desired Prince Rhaegar."
Tommen clutched his belly. "The singers got it wrong then."
And Arya knew everything would be fine. Tommen was right, it was just something in the heat of the moment. I wouldn't want to lose him as a friend, either. Even if the kiss lingered on her mind.
Authors note: Today is my birthday and my goal was to finally finish this massive chapter. Okay we are finally done with Winterfell! It took ages, I honestly didn't think it would take 20,000 words over two chapters to cover it. I also want to explain my reasoning for Sansa here. In cannon she starts out as a naïve head in the cloud type girl who can be a bit vain into a traumatized girl trying to survive the Lannister den. This Sansa while having some growth at the Trident and naturally growing up over a few years is in a different environment where she is poised to be Queen and is the highest ranking woman in Kings Landing. Her father is alive and she expiernces all the splendor of the south.I think in that environment it make sense she's a bit more entilited and spoiled. she isn't as scared and grows more confident and ambitious. Sansa isn't a bad person she still cares about her family though. I actually really like Sansa POVS in the books.
Next up we shall go back to follow the merry adventures of Bobby B and Melisandre in the Disputed Lands! As always thanks for the comments always enjoy reading and replying to them.
MickeiBlue: Yeah, I think Tommen and Arya could make a good pairing and I think it's slept on. Fierce girl. Sweet prince. They seem somewhat compatiable. One chases cats. The other pets them. Will it end up happening? Who knows it's asoiaf.