Chapter XX: The Arrangement

He handed Dany the letter from Howland Reed, brushing her hand in the process. The Queen looked at him with doubt, and it was evident that she still didn't believe a word of his. Beside him, Tyrion stood silently, eyeing both of them with his usual contemplative gaze, anf for the first time, Jon didn't see a glass of wine in his hand.

"I would prefer reading this alone, King Jon," Dany said, and without waiting for his approval, left the solar as gracefully as she had come, her cloak brushing the ground below her. The fires flickered as she went.

"Who would have thought?" Tyrion said, when the door closed behind the Queen. "A dragon raised among the wolves. Can you imagine how many songs they'll sing about this?"

"I do not care for songs," Jon said sharply.

"I know you don't, King Jon." Tyrion paused for a while. "I was merely trying to ease the tension."

"I am afraid you cannot. I have not known ease for years. We had enough wars to fight as it is, and I cannot imagine the impact this news will have on the North."

"Are you afraid the North won't follow you anymore?" Tyrion asked, surprised.

Jon said nothing.

It had never been my right, he thought. Sansa wants it, and Bran is the rightful heir.

"The Queen and I have been talking," Tyrion began. "I told her the North has no will to bend the knee. I do not even think your family wants that. And I know that Daenerys wants the North, and she will stop at nothing to get it. But of course, I do not think thinking rashly would solve the problem. Even if you are Rhaegar's son, you are also a Stark. Maybe you are more of a wolf than you'll ever be a dragon. What I propose is, and I've told her this as well, that you make an alliance with the Crown."

Jon frowned.

"And how would I do that?"

"Oh, it's quite simple," Tyrion said. "You are unmarried. So is the Queen. A marriage alliance is better than any other. Marry the Queen, and you won't need to bend the knee. You being King will give the Crown power over the North, and your Stark blood will keep the North from ever rising against the Crown."

Jon stood frozen.

"And the Queen has consented to this?"

Tyrion shook his head.

"Daenerys knows she has to marry. She would marry someone eventually to form an alliance. Half the kingdom is already behind her. She needs the North now, and I do not think she could find a better husband than you."

"We barely know each other, Lord Tyrion," Jon said, trying to maintain the civil tone of his voice.

He remembered his parents.

It would only bring doom. A Targaryen and a Stark.

"It is the most peaceful solution, Your Grace. Think about it. It will link the North directly to the Crown. I even talked to your cousin about this."

His heart jumped.

"Arya?" He breathed.

"No, I meant Sansa," Tyrion said, smirking. "I like to keep out of Princess Arya's way. She is not too fond of me, if it isn't entirely obvious."

"And what did she say?" Jon asked.

Sansa married for politics. More than once.

"She didn't really give an opinion. And I unfortunately couldn't make anything of her silence." Tyrion sat up straighter, his hands clenched tightly in his lap.

A marriage to the Queen.

It would solve things, he couldn't deny that.

Ned Stark married for duty. And he was happy.

"I must speak to the Queen about this," he said.

"Of course," Tyrion replied, smiling. "It was her intent to speak with you today itself, but unfortunately you gave her a much more shocking news already."

Jon sighed. He had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be a Targaryen.

"But she is my aunt," he pointed out, and felt uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Yes, but Targaryens do not care for the laws of the Gods. And maybe it's time to stop thinking about morality and make decisions for the benefit of the realm. If you can stop the war and the suffering, the people will love you, no matter what. It would be the honourable thing to do, Your Grace."

My uncle was honourable, Jon thought.

"You are perhaps wiser than me, Your Grace," Tyrion said. "Do not make haste. I trust you will make the best decision in the end."

The imp rose from his seat, and bowed.

"Good day, Your Grace."

"What are you doing here?"

Arya frowned, and the blacksmith lowered his eyes. Jon noticed his hand slip away from Arya's arm. He stared at her hard, and without breaking his gaze, hissed out,

"Leave us, Ser Gendry."

"Why?" Arya blurted out.

"Maybe I should, Arr-"

"No, I need to know why," she turned to him, and her eyes were ice. "What have I done now, Your Grace? Am I not allowed to come to the Godswood at night, or do I need to take your permission for that?"

Jon clenched his fists.

"Ser Gendry, please leave," he said again, noticing Arya nostrils flare.

The blacksmith bowed. Arya stopped him with a hand and a word, but he was wise enough to remove her hand and bid her a goodnight.

"What were you doing with him in the middle of the night, Arya?" Jon asked, as soon as he was out of sight.

"He's my friend, Jon. We were talking."

"What is so important that you have to talk about at this hour?"

"Nothing! I couldn't sleep so I went to him, and we came here! Why are you being so angry over nothing?"

"Nothing, Arya?" Jon took her face in his hands. "You know what men are like. You shouldn't be alone with him this late."

Arya stepped back.

"Or what? I can take care of my fucking virtue, Jon, if that's what you're worried about. And honestly, just because you are going to fuck the Queen doesn't mean that everyone in this castle is intending to fuck someone."

Jon eyes widened.

"What are you saying?"

Arya shook her head.

"You think I don't know what your plan is? You're going to marry her, aren't you?"

"Who told you that?" His voice was small now, and for some reason he felt guilty.

"No one needs to tell me anything," Arya said, studying him closely. "I know what goes on in this castle even if you are so hell bent on keeping secrets from me, cousin."

"I haven't decided on marrying her," Jon insisted, ignoring her last word. "Not yet."

"But you will," Arya said.

I don't want to.

But I may have to.

"Did he touch you?" Jon asked, suddenly.

Arya frowned.

"What do you mean?"

He placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up.

"Did he touch you?" He whispered. "Or kiss you?"

Arya's lips trembled.

"No," she replied.

Jon withdrew his hand. He heard a growl from beside him, and turned to look at Ghost and Nymeria retreating silently into the night.

"But maybe I won't try to stop him if he does," Arya said, and Jon turned to her sharply. Arya walked past him, and Jon grabbed her hand.

"You'll put him in danger," he warned.

"I dare you to hurt him, Jon," she said, and pulled away. She called for Nymeria but the two wolves were nowhere to be seen. Arya looked at him one last time, and throwing him a grin, walked away.

If he touches her...

He was afraid he would do more than just hurt him.