PART I: Curious
White Harbor
300 AC
Starag,
I dare not write all of what I know to you by raven. My family is being watched by birds and rats alike.
I will be brief, my friend. A few Pentoshi ships came to Sunspear in the last moon's turn. Their charge was someone I thought I would never see again. They came looking for Rhaenys, though how they knew she was alive eludes me still. We did not tell them she is in the North.
Doran and I have doubts about who they are serving. Forgive my secrecy, I must use it to get you curious, and so that we may meet soon.
I am aware you are going to King's Landing by ship with Lord Stark. I urge you instead to meet me at the Inn at the Crossroads in the Trident. The capital is filled with spies and agents of the opposition.
Also, avoid Dragonstone at all costs. Stay to the coast. There are more than foxes and stags roaming that island these days.
Your friend,
Oberyn
Starag Mormont had read the letter one final time before tossing it into the roaring fireplace. The slip of beige paper had crumpled and whitened into a fine dust of fresh embers.
This just confirmed his suspicions about something bigger going on. It couldn't be a coincidence that Jon Arryn died and now someone was scouring Dorne for Rhaenys. Someone wanted Mormont's wife. And Mormont was not about to let that happen. It was no longer about simply helping his friend. Now, the whole matter had gotten personal.
The reasons didn't matter. Mormont wouldn't let it-whatever it was-come to pass.
Mormont's curiosity hadn't just sparked, it had burned like a primed cache of wildfire. And it was fueled even more by the anger that someone was potentially out to harm his family, and even set on taking his wife from him.
It was clear that the Martells were being watched, and might've even been held at knifepoint. Hostages might've been taken so they would keep silent over the matter. Perhaps they had a great weapon that the Martells would've been unable to combat. That made the most sense in Mormont's mind.
"Do you think it's a trap?" Jon had asked behind him. The young man sat in one of the three chairs on the opposite side of Wyman Manderly's oaken desk.
"It is possible," Mormont said. "I don't believe either Oberyn or Doran would give up Rhaenys like that, though. It's genuine. Has to be."
"Well, it certainly makes sense why Oberyn went silent." Ned mused. "Whoever came to Sunspear must've made quite the upset. Thankfully they didn't compromise us."
It was Manderly who shifted uncomfortably in his rather large seat. "I can have a detachment sent to Sunspear to investigate, my lord?"
Ned shook his head. "If we send ships to Sunspear, that will only cause more suspicion. Whoever is pulling the strings here likely isn't aware of how much we know. If we give ourselves away, they'll disappear into smoke."
Mormont turned around, taking his pipe out of his coat pocket and lighting up the pipeweed in the bowl with a single match. "Ned's right. We'll need to follow the script they've given us. At least for the meantime."
Wyman had nodded his acceptance of the order. Still, that didn't mean he liked it. "Perhaps then I can have twenty additional galleys act as your escort to King's Landing. That should be some two thousand men who will stay with you in the capital if you deem them necessary."
Eddard accepted that request from his bannerman. After all, the fat man only wanted to make sure they were safe. He looked back to Mormont. "Are you going to meet Oberyn in the Trident?"
Mormont weighed the possibility of the whole matter being one large trap by the opposition-whoever they were. Going to the Inn at the Crossroads directly from King's Landing would be far too suspicious, though. Especially if he arrived in the city with Ned and Jon. But if he left earlier…
Yes! That might do it. He could get off somewhere along the way-Runestone would do it. Then he could ride through the Vale with a few men-the less he had with him, the more inconspicuous he would be and make his way through the Mountains of the Moon, pass the Bloody Gate, and travel down into the Trident. It would be far riskier once he was in the Riverlands, but he could make it work.
"Yes," He confirmed, blowing a fresh plume of smoke out from his mouth. "I can't go there from the capital, though. It'll look too suspicious. I'll depart from Runestone on horseback with a few men and ride through the Vale to the Inn while you two head on to King's Landing."
"How long will it take?" Ned asked.
Mormont shrugged. "About a week. Two or three more days depending on the weather."
The Vale during winter would be harsh-almost as bad as the North. While the roads were mostly safe, it would be the Mountains of the Moon that would present the largest challenge. Still, Mormont knew he'd be alright, having gone through those parts several times decades prior.
"Do it," Eddard said after a few moments. He'd preferred they all arrived in King's Landing together. The need to find out what was going on in Dorne superseded that wish, however.
Mormont smiled his acknowledgment of the order. Then his thoughts had gone back to the thousands of questions running through his mind. Who wanted Rhaenys? Why? And how did they know she was still alive? Barely anyone outside of the North knew that Rhaenys Targaryen lived. How had they known about it?
Mormont knew one thing for sure. Whoever wanted to take his wife was in for a rude awakening. She was his woman. And he'd make sure that nobody harmed a single red hair on her pretty head.
If they wanted to fight a war, it was a war that Mormont would give them.
The meeting was quickly adjourned.
Ned still had some business to discuss with Wyman, and Jon soon headed off down the wide seastone corridor towards his own chambers. Mormont wandered the halls until he found the narrow passageway that led out to the upper courtyard of the New Castle.
He wasn't entirely surprised when he found Rhaenys walking with Lady Leona Manderly. They both seemed to be talking about whatever it was that noble ladies talked about with each other.
Remembering the contents of the letter he'd burned, Mormont debated whether or not he should tell Rhaenys what was going on with her family. How the Martells were put under pressure all of the sudden by an outside entity-likely the powers that were behind Jon Arryn's death. The same reason why her husband and brother were throwing themselves to the fire.
He couldn't have Lady Mormont of Bear Island tutting and worrying over her uncles and cousins while they had people to rule over, people to look out for. And then there were their children. Mormont couldn't allow his children to endure that. It would be setting the wrong example.
Mormont decided that he'd omit those details-at least for now. It was his problem to solve anyways. There wasn't much Rhaenys could do about it on her own. Best to have her look after Frostgate and the children. Keep her busy while I'm away. That ought to do it.
Mormont instinctively smiled when both women had seen him. Leona had curtsied, "Good afternoon, Lord Mormont."
"You as well, my lady," Mormont said. "Pardon me, Lady Leona, but I will be stealing my wife away from you,"
Rhaenys had gone wide-eyed with a fiery red blush. She looked almost half embarrassed because of the presence of the older woman at her side, and half excited at what Mormont would potentially do next.
Keeping up with his barbaric reputation, Mormont handily picked up Rhaenys by the waist and slung her over his right shoulder. She didn't even fight it, only squirming slightly to get a better position. The whole time, Lady Leona had also blushed and gave an oddly girlish laugh at the sight of the younger couple.
"I will take my leave, then." Leona curtsied again. "I trust we can continue our conversation at dinner, Rhae?"
"Of course, Leona!" Rhaenys laughed nervously from atop her husband's shoulder. She waved at the older woman as Starag walked onto the battlements, carrying her down along the wall of white stone all the way until they arrived at the Seawatch Tower-the easternmost watchtower that gave a breathtaking view of the Bite which led out into the Narrow Sea.
The turrets of chiseled white rock were covered in fresh snow. The sky was beginning to turn darker since the days were shorter during winter. Later, the wind from the sea would pick up, incentivizing people to stay inside their warm homes by the hearth.
Rhaenys had said nothing as he took her to the base of Seawatch Tower, where there was a wide-open veranda that looked out over the water. Hundreds of feet below, Mormont could hear the blue-grey waves of salt seawater crashing against the rocks.
Mormont set his wife down and held her as she readjusted her footing. She gazed up at him with intensely curious amethyst eyes. "We were discussing potential matches," She informed him. "Ser Wylis' cousin, Harlan, has a daughter. Leona wanted to know if we could match her with Duncan when they're both of age. I already told her that it was all up to you, though."
Mormont waved the matter aside. "Probably intended for you to suggest it to me. I'll consider it, but that's not why I wanted to see you now."
Rhaenys looked up instantly into his eye. She held his gaze steadily and pursed her lips. "What is it? Has something…"
"No," Mormont lied. "Just a few things I'll need you to do when I'm in the Vale."
"The Vale?" She asked surprised. "But I thought you were going to King's Landing?"
Mormont leaned against the turret. She did the same. "Change of plans," He said. "Oberyn wants to meet with me in the Riverlands. Says it has something to do with Jon Arryn's death. I'll be heading there first and then I'll ride to King's Landing."
Rhaenys nodded. "Oh alright… I thought it was something bad. It's usually something dangerous when you've got that look in your eye." She shook her head and smiled again. "Nevermind that. What do you want me to do?"
He pulled her closer and smoothed back her crown of dark red hair in an almost fatherly sort of way. "I need you to make sure the children get their lessons and that their needs are seen to while I'm away."
She grinned belligerently. "So essentially what I'm already doing now?"
"Yes, and Bronzie will need someone to visit her frequently. Otherwise, she'll get antsy and leave the nest. I usually make time to see her, but I won't be there for the next few moons at the least." Mormont said. "We can't have her taking flight during the day, otherwise the smallfolk will see her, and then we'll be neck-deep in shit."
"I understand," Rhaenys said as she took both of his hands in hers. She gave him a sly grin. "She must like you quite a bit if she hasn't tried eating you yet. Historically speaking, dragons don't usually take too well to non-Dragonriders or those without Targaryen blood."
"Guess I'm special, then." Mormont shrugged. "Probably all the fish and meat I've fed to her. Or perhaps because Bronzie's rider also happens to be the mother of my children."
Rhaenys had held up his hand and leaned her cheek against his palm. "Makes sense to me," She said lowly, almost growling sensually. Her eyes had lit up again with that primal fire. "I'll make sure she's seen to. What else?"
"The petitioners need to be seen at least four days out of the week," Mormont said. "Wouldn't recommend passing it off to Maege. You know how short her temper is."
His wife had giggled suddenly as if recalling a stray memory of her good-aunt losing her absolute shit. "Of course. I'll handle them. And I'll make sure she has duties that she can get done on her own."
"Good," Mormont said. He ran his thumb down her pale-golden face. Her skin was warm to the touch. "Dacey will be sending regular letters. I also need you to help her as best as you can with whatever problems come up. Do you think you can do that?"
"Yes," Rhaenys answered immediately. "Is there anything else?"
"No," Mormont shook his head gently. "That's all I need you to do." He paused. "I'll be gone for a few moons at the most. This whole conspiracy is going to take some time to unravel, and I don't know what we'll find in King's Landing. We'll figure it out, though."
Rhaenys smiled softly. She squeezed his hands tight. "I know you will. You always do." She trailed off. "Just… Just come back to me, alright? Keep Jae and Eddard safe too. I have a feeling they'll both need you more than ever."
"Naturally," Mormont rubbed her shoulders comfortingly. "Things might get a bit rough, but we'll make it back just fine."
"It's just…" She began with a hitch in her voice, "My family has never thrived in that cesspit of a city…" The implications behind her words were best left unspoken. Rhaenys looked back up at him. "I can't help but worry, and I want to help as much as I can. I don't want to lose you like… like…"
Mormont pulled Rhaenys close to his chest. He felt her begin to tear up and sniffle. "I know, sweetheart." He whispered into her ear. "Everything will be fine."
She dabbed her eyes on the collar of his coat and sniffled. Her arms around him had tightened their embrace. "Just hold me tight, my love." She said pleadingly, looking up into his eye. "Just hold me tight and say sweet things to me. Please?"
Mormont lowered his lips to her forehead and kissed his wife gently upon her crown of hair. Rhaenys loved him for being a barbaric pirate who gallivanted off on adventures across the land, and that was one of the things he appreciated about her.
"As you wish, Lady Mormont."
The Mermaid's Square was an impressive sight for Jon Stark.
He'd seen plenty of grand sights throughout his youth. Having seen the Great Sept of Baelor up front, the Street of Steel in King's Landing, and even the expansive verdant mazes outside of Highgarden, he was used to them by now.
The main square in White Harbor-where most of the more expensive shops had been set up-was not exactly impressive in the same way. It was more of the rugged simplicity behind it that gave its charm.
The street was paved with white stone caked with a thick layer of snow. It was not slippery due to all the friction of people's feet and horses' hooves. Snowflakes fell from the late afternoon sky down into the twin courtyards that were littered with market stalls and smallfolk who had come to browse the newest goods and wares-if only for about ten or fifteen minutes before they went back to their homes to begin cooking a warm and hearty meal. Jon could imagine smelling a thick rich broth consisting of sizzling melted potatoes and beef chunks that were ready to fall off the bone. Garlic, herbs, and maybe even a touch of honey in the stew as well.
Both courtyards were separated by the wide Castleroad. Foot traffic between the two of them was more common than not, however. Along the perimeter of the square were the expensive and wealthier stores that housed more exotic goods from across the Narrow Sea, or even swords made by the finest blacksmiths in the North.
It was beautiful and annoying to Jon Stark. Beautiful because of the simplicity and the smallfolk who talked to one another as if they were family. Annoying because he was still planning the layout for the market square in Queenscrown and he'd wanted to attain a similar result.
Jon put it out of his mind for now. He was hungry after his late morning training session with Starag. And he wanted to roam White Harbor for a bit before they were to set sail in the next three days.
Margaery was holding onto his arm, again in her fox pelt coat. The dragonglass brooch he'd given her years ago was firmly pinned to the collar of her coat. Her golden brown hair shimmered in the afternoon sun. And not far behind them was Gerold, who had elected to give the couple some space while he was on guard.
"Thinking about Queenscrown again?" She asked. Margaery could almost read minds like her grandmother.
"Mmhmmm." He grunted, looking in the direction of the Wayward Seal-the largest tavern in White Harbor. It was the tallest building on the edge of the square, and unlike the rest of the shops, it was made out of great wooden logs of fir and pine. A towering three-storied mast of a building with a small copper sign depicting a large bulbous seal wearing a hedge knight's shield and an open steel helmet. "You hungry?"
"Starving," Margaery beamed at his request. She held his arm tighter as he looked down both sides of the wide Castleroad, making sure it was clear of horses or carriages. Then they crossed and passed by multiple market stalls where the shopkeepers were trying to ply their trade.
"Just a moment, my lord!"
"What if I told you this sword was the same one that-"
"Look no more! We have a massive sale on-"
Jon tuned out their voices. At the same time, he scanned the crowd around him for any sign of danger. A permanent remnant of the training given to him by both Arthur and Starag. He even knew that Gerold was also keeping his eyes peeled for anyone who looked out of place as well.
Not that they needed Gerold to defend them in the highly improbable situation that they were attacked. Jon was more than capable with the Valyrian Steel bastard sword that was currently buckled to his belt.
Wolf Queen was now in the depths of the Smoking Sea. So once they returned from Essos, Jon had gone with Starag to see Tobho Mott once again. Starag wanted to forge an old axe design he'd taken from the Grand Forges, but Jon also needed a new sword.
Jon decided to take inspiration from the Solaerys family-one of the ancient Dragonlord families from which he was descended. Though the Dragonlords had carried no sigils, Jon distinctly remembered the gleaming white sun on the "teleportation pads" as Marwyn had called them. It was about as close as he'd get.
And so he called his new sword Sunfire. Besides being a hand-and-a-half, the pommel was a gleaming white direwolf's head with two amber-gold eyes. The crossguard was kept simple except for the symbol of the white sun that bloomed almost like a flower against his thumb. It was a beautiful weapon. Perhaps one that he might pass on to his children one day.
They made it to the front entrance of the tavern. Even outside in the cold, Jon could feel the warm hearth that was burning within. Though it was strangely quiet inside.
He pushed open the door and walked in. The smell of burnt coffee and freshly baked bread filled his nose. The cold in his bones and face retreated back outside, leaving him feeling warm and oddly empty. At least for the time being.
Jon looked around the tavern and saw a few empty tables. His eyes darted from one person to the next, seeing the heads of many smallfolk hunched over their food or their drink. None-at least the ones that were sober for the moment-looked cheerful or lively.
By the great hearth, there was a lone stool that stayed empty. And next to it was a lute in a half-opened case. So a bard was here, but clearly, he wasn't doing his job. Making things lively and improving the mood were the trade talents of a musician, not necessarily making music itself.
Jon spied a lone table that was sitting in its own corner space. There were glass windows that showed the outside market square and hustle and bustle of the smallfolk buying goods and food. It looked big enough for perhaps three, maybe four people. Tonight it would do for two.
Jon looked to Margaery and nodded to the isolated table. She understood immediately and parted from him, her hand temporarily lingering on his arm. While she sat down at the table, Jon approached the sullen-looking bar owner who was also scanning the crowd of guests inside his establishment. The man was about a foot taller than him, with sandy-white hair and big muscles. He would've made a good soldier if it wasn't for the noticeable limp in his step.
Jon smiled at the older man, hoping to lighten his mood. "Afternoon," He greeted.
The innkeeper fixed up his own smile immediately. "Afternoon to you as well, Ser! What can I get for you?"
"Coffee for myself and iced water for the lady, though I'm sure we'll order drinks..." Jon trailed off, so as to find out his host's name.
"Ah! You can call me Ryman, good Ser! I'll get your drinks right away!" The innkeeper grinned. Then he fixed Jon with a searching glance, "Say, you look quite familiar. Haven't seen you in here before, but I'm sure I've gotten a glance at you out there…" He nodded outside the large oak door.
"I'm just visiting," Jon waved his hand away. He didn't necessarily care if he was pegged as Jon Stark, Lord of Queenscrown and second-born son to Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. He just preferred to have a quiet evening, however. "What have you got in the way of food?"
Ryman nodded. "We've got a good leek and potato stew going on-my wife's specialty. It's helped lift some spirits today, what with the bad weather going on. There's also some grilled lamb chops and beef pie. And we've got some fresh fruit from Duskendale and Oldtown just come in too."
"That stew sounds good," Jon said. "Two bowls of that with lamb chops for me on the side. Send over a bowl of fruit for the lady."
"Of course, Ser!" Before Ryman could speak about payment, Jon had already taken a single gold dragon out of his satchel and slid it across the table. The innkeeper had actually frozen himself midspeech at the sight of the polished golden coin.
"I trust that will cover our expenses for the night?" Jon asked.
Ryman nodded hastily. "It will, but Ser!" he protested. "T-T-That's far too much! It would only be a couple of sil-"
"Nonsense," Jon shook his head with a grin. "I heard this was the best tavern in White Harbor. They said I ought to pay handsomely at a fine establishment like this." He lied about the last part. Nobody had told him that before he walked into the tavern. "Just take good care of us this evening. That's all I ask, Ryman."
The innkeeper had nodded finally and reluctantly took the gold dragon. He bowed graciously to Jon. "I'll have your food and drink out right away, my lord!" He said.
Jon left the bar and walked over to his table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gerold open the door and walk inside. He took a seat on the opposite side of the tavern.
Jon took off his heavy cloak. It used to weigh him down quite a bit, but he'd adapted to the weight as he grew older. Margaery had also taken off her coat, revealing the thick northern dress that she was wearing.
"Stew and fruit for you," Jon said as he sat down. "Stew and lamb for me."
"And coffee?" Margaery asked with a mirthful raise of her eyebrow.
"Always."
Food came quite quickly, though not without tutting from both Ryman and his wife-who turned out to be quite the cook herself. They both came to their table and asked whether or not Jon and Margaery would like their own room, a fresh bath, and perhaps their own cooked brisket. Mayhaps they could do with a few bottles of spiced wine from the Reach or even a platter of roasted elk that they could get cooking within the hour. All free of charge.
Naturally, Jon didn't need any of it. "You've already done more than enough." He said genuinely.
"The food is quite excellent," Margaery added. "Could I have another bowl of stew?"
Ryman's wife almost jumped at the polite request. "Of course, my lady!" She bowed and reverently took the bowl back into the kitchens.
Jon figured that the couple had never been paid upfront with a gold dragon before. And they were likely trying to figure out how to properly repay him for his generosity. The meal itself would've been only a handful of silver stags.
And as the older couple were now referring to Jon and Margaery as "My lord" and "My lady" it was safe to assume that the cat had been taken out of the bag and properly thrown at the wall. They knew he was Jon Stark.
To put his mind off it, Jon took another glance around the tavern. Still, the moods of the other guests did not seem to improve. Especially those without the delicious leek and potato stew in front of them.
"Where's your bard?" Jon had asked Ryman after he finished off the lamb chops. "That's his lute by the hearth is it not?"
The older man had the decency to blush with embarrassment. "Afraid he's a bit ill today, m'lord. Told me himself. The man had far too much to drink last night and felt as if he'd hit his head against an anvil this morning. Normally he helps lift the spirits around here, and I give him a generous tip." He stood upright. "I can go fetch him if you like m'lord? Surely he's in good health by now."
Jon shook his head. "No, no. It's not needed, I was just curious." He paused briefly, another question coming to mind. "Don't you have other bards lining up to play a few tunes in this place?"
Ryman smiled sadly. "Unfortunately not, m'lord. Most of 'em took ships to the Vale and King's Landing. Soldiers pay quite well for a song during wartime, and it's warmer in the southern kingdoms. And my man practically lives here, so the competition tends to stay away."
"It makes sense. Though it's quite unfortunate that he's not here to lift the spirits of these men and women." Jon noted. He was in a particularly good mood, though he'd left his own lute back in his room in New Castle. "I don't suppose you'd need someone to play a few songs for them?"
Ryman looked almost aghast. Having the man who drastically overpaid his welcome play songs for him was too much. "Not at all, my lord! I can have my man up and ready to play soon enough. It's no bother, really-"
Jon pushed away his plate and bowl towards Ryman. "Just one or two songs should be enough. It's been a bit since I had a go with the lute, but I'm sure it'll put a smile on your patrons' faces." Another lie. He'd been practicing earlier that morning in his room.
Ryman had no plausible excuse to say no. "Well," he looked almost defeated. "If you can, it would certainly help."
Jon nodded and stood up from his seat. He kissed Margaery's hand and looked into her doe-like brown eyes. They stared dreamily right back at him. "Be back soon, love." He said.
Once again, her hand lingered as he slipped away and marched over to the hearth. He opened up the case fully to reveal the lute inside. It was expensive, judging by its polished oaken frame and gleaming silver strings. There was the carved symbol of twin spears on the spine of the instrument. Jon smiled. Grimnar's shop.
The commotion in the tavern picked up as he sat down on the lone stool. He ignored the new interest of the smallfolk as he retuned the lute and strummed cords to his satisfaction. When he looked up, he saw over one hundred faces looking directly at him from the different tables in the great hall.
He picked out Gerold's hidden smile. The old man might make fun of him for doing this later, but Jon would deal with it. He then saw Margaery, who had posted her chin up with her hand while she watched him. Her full attention was directly on him and her eyes beamed with pride.
Once he was finished tuning the lute, Jon filed through the long list of songs in his head. Which one would make a good start to the evening? Something local. A strong country song. Instantly, the answer had come to him.
He coughed into his hand and sat up straight. The audience fell silent in a matter of seconds. After a few moments, he began playing, strumming the cords like a complete professional. Then he'd opened his lips and remembered the lyrics he'd read years ago.
Winterfell by morning,
Up from Torrhen's Square.
Everything that I've got,
Is just what I've got on.
When that Sun is high,
In that Northern sky,
I'll be hunting on that country stair.
Winterfell by morning,
Winterfell, I'll be there.
They took my saddle in Moat Cailin,
Broke my leg in Barrowton,
Lost my wife and a lover,
Somewhere along the way.
But I'll be looking for eight,
When they pull that gate.
And I hope that
Guard isn't blind.
Winterfell by morning,
Winterfell's on my mind.
Winterfell by morning,
Up from Torrhen's Square.
Everything that I've got,
Is just what I've got on.
I don't have a silver stag,
But what I have is mine.
I'm not rich,
But by the gods I'm free.
Winterfell by morning,
Winterfell's where I'll be.
Winterfell by morning,
Winterfell's where I'll be.
Once he'd finished, the tavern erupted into claps and cheers. Dozens of other faces had joined the crowd, almost doubling the number of watchers in the audience. All the while, Jon looked around and saw the smiles on their faces. It felt… nice… to actually make someone's day like that. And he'd done it for over a hundred people so far.
No harm in another. He thought to himself. Quickly he raised his hand to get the crowd to hush. They did so and fell completely silent.
Another country tune had come to mind-as a professional bard would often need to think quickly so as to keep his audience's attention. In the same way, a swordsman would need to be faster than his opponent during a duel or an actual fight. It was a lesson Jon had applied once he'd taken to the lute many years ago.
The next song had, oddly enough, come from the Vale. They weren't very big on music that smallfolk oft appreciated, and Jon was surprised as much to find that they had only a handful of suitable tunes. He retuned his borrowed lute accordingly and then began to play.
All I wanted was a sweet distraction for an hour or two,
Had no intention to do the things we've done.
Funny how it always goes with love, when you don't look, you find,
But then we're two of a kind, we move as one.
We're an all time high,
We'll change all that's gone before,
Doing so much more than falling in love.
On an all time high,
We'll take on the world and win,
So hold on tight, let the flight begin.
I don't want to waste a waking moment; I don't want to sleep.
I'm in so strong and so deep, and so are you.
In my time I've said these words before, but now I realize,
My heart was telling me lies, for you they're true.
We're an all time high,
We'll change all that's gone before.
Doing so much more than falling in love,
On an all time high.
We'll take on the world and win.
So hold on tight, let the flight begin,
So hold on tight, let the flight begin,
We're an all time high.
Two songs turned into three. And three into four. And so on. The people sang and clapped to the beat of the lute, and threw copper and silver coins in the case when they passed him by-likely not even caring that neither the case nor the instrument was his.
It was perhaps hours later when the sky outside was dark, almost black. Through the windows, Jon had seen the flurries of snow and the stars in the sky. It was then that Jon put the loot back in the case and flexed his fingers. They would've been cramped if not for his skills with the sword.
As he made his way back to his table they continued to cheer for him. Some even thrust mugs of ale towards him, though he politely declined. He sat down across from Margaery, who was still staring at him as if he'd come from the stars. She'd actually wiped tears from her eyes with a white handkerchief before he'd sat down.
"What?" He asked belligerently. His throat was dry from all the singing.
Slowly, Margaery slipped her hand into his own and squeezed. "You're wonderful." She said simply. "You know that, right?"
"Of course," Jon said with a playful grin. "Though that one Dornish song could do with a bit of an improvement. Doesn't play well with the lute."
Margaery shook her head with a gay smile. "You didn't have to play for these people."
"No. But I did."
For a long moment, they stared at one another. Jon felt Margaery rubbing his rough knuckles with her warm thumb. His nerves tingled with desire for her. He wanted to pull her body against his and kiss her right then. He would've, if not for the table between them and the hundreds of onlookers watching them.
"There's something I want to tell you," Margaery broke the silence. She bit her lip and glanced down at the empty fruit bowl she'd had earlier. "I-I spoke with Maester Theomore yesterday. He said… Well…"
Jon Stark sat like a statue on the opposite side of that table. It was only a matter of time. He and Margaery were like a pair of rabbits.
He reflected for a moment. Jon had already chosen Margaery to have his children. And he knew that she wanted to have his children, too.
But they weren't even married before the Old Gods.
"What did he say?" Jon knew the answer.
"That I'm with child," Margaery confirmed his thoughts. "Your child."
That was it then. Jon nodded and smiled. He gently squeezed her hand back. But he said nothing.
Margaery watched him for the longest time. "What is it?" She asked, practically dreading his potential answer.
Jon felt his senses cool. "We'll need to be married."
The girl across from him had almost looked relieved, giving out a delighted giggle in response. "You'll find no arguments from me, Lord Stark."
He chuckled. "We'll see. It'll have to wait, though. I've still got to help my father finish this business in King's Landing."
"I understand."
"You'll be staying in Queenscrown." He said dryly. "Lots of work to be done up there."
"I think you'll find that I'm up to the challenge, Lord Stark," Margaery said with a beaming smile.
Jon Stark filled up his mug with more coffee and took another hearty spoonful of honey from the shared pot between them. He smirked.
"Good girl."