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Onlookers pressed tight together around the makeshift sparring yard and shoved past one another to get closer to the front. Young squires weaved between the legs of older men, each one more eager than the last to see what all the commotion was about. None of them crowded around Jon, though. Whether it was the large direwolf that lay at his feet that kept the crowd at bay, or the new title he found himself saddled with, Jon did not know. As long as he had a clear view of the practice yard, he truthfully didn't care. Jon's squire Alyn didn't seem to mind either. He watched on eagerly from Jon's side, sat on the ground beside Ghost.

Aegon swung high, and his sword clashed with that of Ser Daemon's. A group of camp women across the way gasped at the impact, and the swords rang loudly as they slid down each other. Aegon was quick to dance away from his opponent, but Ser Daemon was quick as well. Blackfyre was a sight to behold as it rippled through the air and Jon would be jealous if he didn't have his own sword of Valyrian steel. Lot of good it is, hidden away. The Valyrian steel sword sliced through the air, and Jon's hands itched. He longed to go retrieve Dark Sister, to test it against Blackfyre. But wouldn't that be difficult to explain.

The Dornishmen gathered behind Aegon cheered as he brought Ser Daemon to his knees. Ser Daemon graciously accepted Aegon's hand and trudged from the field. One of Lord Mooton's sons, sent along amongst the men from the Riverlands, was next to step forward and was met with loud cheers from the rivermen. A friendly handshake, and the two men circled one another. Walys Mooton, is it? Jon could hardly remember. The Mooton boy gave it his best, but he was outmatched. Aegon soon had the upper hand.

"Prince Jon." Jon did not need to look to know who approached. There weren't many within the camp with Dornish accents, and fewer still who were women.

Arianne came to stand next to him and Alyn scrambled to his feet to pay her the proper respects. She only briefly acknowledged Alyn and gave Ghost even less thought. Arianne instead remained attentive to the sparring match.

"Princess Arianne. I trust you're well?" Jon said. Despite the space available to her, Arianne stood close enough for her arm to brush his. Jon bit his tongue and resolved against side-stepping away. It would not be seemly, nor very princely, he decided, to be seen as shirking away from the heir to Dorne.

Jon was unsure of how precisely to interact with her, beyond the expected courtesies. Highborn women who had visited Winterfell had spared him no thought beyond curious or scornful stares, if they even noticed at all. And he certainly couldn't speak to her with the formality he did Alysanne and her ladies. She was the heir to Dorne, after all. And despite the name given to him by Robb, he was still a bastard.

This made thrice now that Jon had found himself at the mercy of Arianne Martell, and Jon would have much preferred to take that side-step away. The night after the Dornish party's arrival, she'd claimed the seat next to him at dinner and questioned him endlessly. Just yesterday, she'd insisted Jon escort her to the council meeting. He could still feel the warmth of her arm in his, the way her dress left bare her arms, her shoulders, her collarbones- Jon grit his teeth. She's a princess, not a piece of meat. Still, he could not help the way his eyes trailed over her.

"Quite well," Arianne dismissed. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

A light breeze jostled her hair, and Jon found she smelt faintly of flowers. She peered up at him expectantly with dark eyes, and to Jon's horror, he lost his words in them.

Again she wore a dress in the Dornish fashion, though this time the color of blue sea-foam that Jon thought suited her well. Her hair hung in loose waves that day, though a jeweled hair piece hung heavy across her brow. It matched the golden bracelets decorating her wrists, which clinked together when she shifted her weight.

"Seen anything like what?" Jon said stupidly. Blackfyre? "The sword?"

"Casterly Rock," Arianne emphasized. Jon cleared his throat and looked to the castle jutting up into the sky. "Is it not magnificent? A shame it's wasted on the likes of Tywin Lannister."

"It's taller than the Wall, they say." Thrice the height of the Wall, if what Alysanne once said was to be believed. And she'd heard that from Tyrion. Jon craned his neck to truly see it in its entirety. Arianne only hummed at his statement.

"What is your Queen's plan? She did not deem to share it with us last night." Arianne went back to watching the sparring match, acting as though she were merely making light conversation. Jon did the same, stalling to think of an answer.

Even if he knew Alysanne's plan, he would not go behind her back and share information she hadn't readily given. But Jon didn't know. If she had one at all, she hadn't deemed to share it with him either, a thought which unsettled him. Alysanne always shared her plans with him. She'd done so before Oxcross, and when Jon told her that perhaps it would be best to do it a different way, she'd been thankful. She'd done so before the Golden Tooth as well, before Jon discovered the old goats pass. What's different now?

"Her plan is to take Casterly Rock," Jon evaded. Arianne gave him a sidelong glance, contempt twisting her mouth. Alyn giggled from where he'd returned to sitting by Ghost but silenced when Arianne raised a brow at him.

"Yes, it would appear so." Arianne sniffed. "No one has ever taken it by force. Only Lann the Clever succeeded. Do you know that story?" She peered up at him through her eyelashes.

Jon was swiftly finding his mind addled by her once more, with the sweet way she smiled up at him. He cleared his throat. "I believe Alysanne has told me that tale once or twice."

Arianne launched into the story anyway, and Jon figured she would have done so no matter what he said. He tried to pay attention for her sake, but red hair on the other side of the yard caught his attention.

Across the way, Jon Connington stood beside Prince Oberyn and Ashara Dayne. But he didn't watch Aegon, Jon noticed. Instead, he watched him and Arianne. Jon cleared his throat and pointedly fixated on Aegon. Just as Aegon could frequently be found with Alysanne, Jon Connington was never far behind Aegon.

Jon wasn't sure what to think of the disgraced lord. He tended to be impertinent, particularly towards Alysanne; something which set Jon's teeth on edge. But he seemed to have a sound military mind; the few times Jon Connington did deem to speak openly had been to suggest strategies that perhaps even Jon himself would not have thought of. Still, the way he watched Jon made him uneasy. At times it was as though he expected Jon to run Aegon through with his blade and at others, his expression was unreadable.

Another cheer swept through the crowd, and Arianne clapped happily. The Mooton boy took his defeat with grace and loped back to join his friends. Jon Connington called to Aegon, who subsequently sheathed his sword and left the field, much to the crowd's disappointment.

Arianne had finished the story and cleared her throat. "I suppose your Queen will tell us at the war council. I'll see you then, I presume?"

"Aye, I'll see you then." Arianne swept away in the same way Aegon and the rest of the Dornish party had gone, and Jon watched for a moment before turning to Alyn and Ghost. Now is as good a time as any. "Come. I have something I need to do."

Alyn and Ghost jumped to their feet and the three of them set off in the opposite direction Arianne and Aegon had. Aegon, his half-brother.

The thought of Aegon being his half brother had lingered in his mind for nigh on three days now. Jon still didn't know what to do. He could always tell Aegon the truth. No one could truly stop Jon if he really wanted to. The only thing staying his tongue was Alysanne. The night Aegon arrived, Alysanne had entreated him to hold off. There was no telling how Aegon would react, how Prince Oberyn and Arianne would react. Would Aegon even believe him? Or would he think Jon a pretender, only after his throne?

He'd done his best to avoid Aegon altogether, a task proving difficult. Aegon followed Alysanne more often than not, and Jon couldn't very well ignore her. She'd effectively designated him as her second in command, after all, and with the assault on Casterly Rock looming high overhead, Jon found himself in her presence more than ever. The dejected look that would shutter across Aegon's face every time Jon cut the conversation short didn't assuage feelings of guilt. Though the guilt he felt from lying to Aegon outweighed anything else.

Two guards stood post outside of the pavilion designated to council meetings, and Jorelle waited as well. Jon bade Alyn to wait outside before approaching.

Jorelle stopped him with a firm arm across his chest. "Where do you think you're going?"

Jon raised a brow. "To speak with Alysanne."

"She doesn't wish to be disturbed." Jorelle shoved him lightly, but Jon didn't budge.

"Then I won't disturb her," Jon insisted. He gave her a pointed look and, with a sharp roll of her eyes, Jorelle dropped her arm and stepped aside.

That was another aspect Jon appreciated about his new title. No one could truly stop him from doing what he wished, besides Alysanne and Robb. Perhaps he should feel ashamed for using his newfound authority in such a manner, but it wasn't as though he would just barge in and demand Alysanne's audience. Jon was perfectly content to wait patiently.

He slipped through the flaps of the pavilion and found a place by the entrance. Alysanne and Ser Addam stood together, hunched over a map, and from Jon's place, he couldn't quite make out their words. They spoke in low tones, even though they had Jorelle keeping out unwanted visitors. The walls of the pavilion were still merely canvas, after all.

Jon identified the map as depicting Lannisport and Casterly Rock, and though he could not hear their words, he could see where Alysanne pointed to on the map. Her finger hovered over the far side of Casterly Rock, where the Rock met the sea.

Ser Addam and Alysanne stepped back from the map, and Jon could faintly hear what they said. He caught mention of Edwyn Frey, the grandson of Ser Stevron, who had taken command of the Frey men following his death. That had been unfortunate, if only for the fact that now Jon was forced to tolerate Edwyn Frey on a regular basis. But despite his family name, Jon had respected Ser Stevron. He'd enjoyed the few conversations they'd shared, and Jon had been eager to learn more from the older man regarding battle strategy.

Mentions of Jon Umber and Harrion Karstark were met with brief contemplation from Alysanne, before she discounted them as well. Ser Addam focused on Jon next, but just before he spoke, Alysanne placed a staying hand on his arm.

"Not Jon. I need him here." Her hand fell, and she drummed her fingers on the table. "The tide will be in. Ser Brynden always boasts of what a strong swimmer he is, put him to the test."

Ser Addam agreed, and with only a brief nod of acknowledgement towards Jon, he rushed out of the tent. Even though Alysanne was no longer preoccupied, Jon remained by the entrance of the tent.

"The rest should be here soon for the council meeting. Was there something you needed?" Alysanne sat in the chair just behind her and began shuffling through missives and other maps.

Jon cleared his throat and remembered just what he had come to speak to Alysanne about. "I want to tell Aegon the truth."

Alysanne rested her head in one hand. "Jon," she sighed. She rubbed at her forehead.

"I don't feel right lying to him, Alys," Jon argued.

Alysanne stared at him for a moment. "I don't like it either. But it's information we can use to our advantage." She met his eyes, and her shoulders fell. "Though I suppose it's ultimately up to you."

Jon weighed his response and surveyed his cousin. Dark circles hung heavy under her eyes, the only true color in an otherwise pallid complexion where there'd once been rosy cheeks and lips. Her cheekbones were more prominent than they'd been at the start of the journey and, more oft than not, a worried frown pulled at her mouth. Jon racked his brain, but could not think of a time he'd seen Alysanne truly smile in the last few weeks. She'd smiled politely and when expected, of course. She always did what was expected of her. But never the smile that Robb waxed poetic about to Jon and Theon's amusement.

With a frown, Jon circled the table to come to stand by Alysanne, whose eyes remained closed. She started as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and peered up at him with tired eyes. Jon kneeled before her.

"I'll wait until after we take the Rock and things have settled. How does that sound?" Jon whispered.

"We're at war, Jon. Things won't settle," she laughed weakly.

"You know what I meant," Jon teased back. His frown returned, and he smoothed her hair back before grasping her hands. "You aren't well, Alysanne," he said softly.

"I'm alright Jon," she insisted. "You shouldn't worry after me."

"I believe Robb commanded me to worry after you," Jon japed. The only reaction from Alysanne was a slight smile. "Have you been sleeping?"

Alysanne searched his eyes, and her shoulders dropped. "I try to but—gods, Jon. I fear I'm going mad at times. I've been having these dreams—"

Loud voices cut off Alysanne's words, and she sighed once more. She called out to Jorelle to let those outside in. With a final reassuring squeeze of her hands, Jon retreated to his usual spot directly opposite of Alysanne. Their conversation would have to wait until later.

Jon observed her movements as she stood to greet her advisors. Had he not been, he would have missed the way Alysanne swayed on her feet, just slightly. She stepped closer to the table and leaned her weight against it.

The pavilion seemed more crowded than usual, what with the Dornish party in attendance. Jon Connington and Aegon were, as expected, present along with Prince Oberyn and his natural daughters Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, and Elia. Arianne had made her presence known to Jon with a friendly smile, and Ashara Dayne stood just behind her. Ashara Dayne. Her presence disconcerted Jon nearly as much as his new found half brother. Is she aware of the rumors that I'm her son?

Of course, there were the usual faces. Harrion Karstark and Jon Umber, Maege Mormont and Gregor Forrester, Edwyn Frey, they all gathered around the table in their usual order. Alyn squeezed through the crowd to stand by Jon's side. Jon greeted him with a small smile and a fond ruffle of his hair, much to the boy's chagrin. Ghost plodded in behind Alyn and sat behind them both, a silent sentinel.

Wylla and Jorelle had taken their usual spots just behind Alysanne, with Arya sat beside her. There were two glaring absences, however. Ser Addam and Ser Brynden were nowhere to be found. What is she up to?

The chatter fell away with Alysanne's raised hand. "There's no point in dallying. I wish to send a message to the castellan." Alysanne waved Wylla forward from where she hovered at the side and gestured to an empty chair, where a quill and blank piece of parchment sat waiting.

Wylla took the seat, and at her nod, Alysanne dictated the missive. "As Jaime Lannister's sole trueborn child, and, by consequence, Tywin Lannister's rightful heir: I, Alysanne of Houses Lannister and Stark, Queen of the North and the Rivers, Lady of Winterfell and Heir to Casterly Rock, do demand that Casterly Rock be ceded to my command. Lay down your arms and raise the gates, and I will spare your life and the lives of your men."

It was silent save for the scratching of the quill against parchment. Those gathered exchanged confused looks. Even Jon couldn't help but stare at Alysanne quizzically. He chanced a glance at Aegon, only to find his small group muttering quietly amongst themselves.

Was this truly her plan? Jon had no notion as to who was acting as castellan, but he was certain they'd be someone loyal to Lord Tywin and Lord Tywin alone. Casterly Rock had enough in their larders to outlast a siege for months, perhaps a year. They'd be a fool to just hand over the keep.

The excited chatter spread, and soon everyone was speculating amongst themselves. Except for Jon, who once again watched Alysanne warily. Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on the table, and she inhaled and exhaled slowly. Jorelle laid a hand on Alysanne's shoulder and exchanged an expressionless glance with Wylla, who had since finished writing and returned the quill to the inkpot, and was now warming wax over a lit candle.

It was Lord Gregor who finally stepped forward. "Your grace, respectfully, you cannot think that this will work?"

Harrion Karstark, emboldened by Lord Gregor's dissent, deemed to speak his mind as well. "They'll think you a fool, your grace."

Arya bristled beside Alysanne, and Jon held his breath for the coming storm from his younger sister, but a gentle hand from Alysanne stayed her. Alysanne fixed Harrion Karstark with a withering stare before scanning the rest of the lords. Her gaze came to a rest on Jon and her lips upturned into a slight smile that was gone before it even came. Wylla folded the parchment and poured the melted wax. Alysanne pressed her seal into it. "Wylla, see that the missive is sent."

Wylla swiftly fled from the tent with the missive held tightly in her hand. Alysanne searched the crowd. "Lord Edwyn. Tell me how the siege preparations are coming along."

At a chance to seem important for once, Edwyn Frey puffed out his chest and pulled his shoulders back. "It goes well, your grace. Casterly Rock doesn't stand a chance."

Harrion Karstark laughed derisively. "This is a waste of time, your grace," Harrion loudly argued. Another hard stare, and Alysanne continued to ignore him in favor of questioning Edwyn Frey further.

As Jon listened to the man ramble, he fought the urge to interject himself. They'd only been camped outside of Casterly Rock for a full day. All that Edwyn Frey's men had done was cut down trees and haul the lumber to where it was needed. Jon hardly suspected that construction had truly even begun, from how Edwyn Frey stuttered and stumbled.

Jon Connington stepped forward and garnered Alysanne's attention. "I must agree with Lord Karstark, is it?" Jon Connington looked to Harrion Karstark, who nodded in affirmation. "Casterly Rock will never fall to a siege."

Alysanne smiled graciously at Lord Connington. "You've endured sieges, yes? Then perhaps you'll be able to provide us with insight."

An unenthusiastic Jon Connington was pulled into the planning of the siege, and Jon could not help but tune the discussion out. Certainly, Alysanne must know this will not work? Lord Tywin had made sure she knew the history of Casterly Rock as a part of her studies. Jon highly doubted that the man would have left out knowledge of Casterly Rock's defenses.

The discussion as to where to place the siege engines went on for some time, until Wylla slipped back into the tent and whispered something in Alysanne's ear. She nodded and rolled up the maps. "We'll break for dinner, my lords, my ladies. I've taken the liberty of having a meal prepared for us all."

Servants filed in, and set the table with a modest fare. Roasted boar, which had been killed just the other day by some of Jon Umber's men. The same stew of which they'd had nearly the entire march, with ale and bread besides.

They were in no hurry to finish the evening meal, everyone enjoying the chance to set aside matters of war, even if for a brief time. As the sun fell, more servants came in to light candles, setting the pavilion awash in the warm light. Aegon chatted eagerly to Alysanne and Arya, who more than once sent Jon pleading glares. Prince Oberyn engaged Jon Umber with tales from Essos, and Jorelle eagerly examined the spear carried by one of Oberyn's daughters. Obara? Or Nymeria?

Jon was about to respond to a question from Maege Mormont, with whom he'd been making idle conversation throughout his meal, when a commotion at the entrance to the tent silenced them all.

Ser Addam rushed into the tent, and Ser Brynden entered just after him. The rumble of low laughter filled the tent at the sight of Ser Brynden, whose clothes were soaked and dripping onto the ground. "It's just as you said, your grace," Ser Addam beamed. "Twenty good men, and the Rock will fall tonight." Alysanne grinned back, and in that moment, Jon could have sworn a lion had taken her place.

Servants moved forward to clear out the food at Alysanne's behest, and she waited patiently before unfurling the map of Lannisport and Casterly Rock once more. They all pressed forward to get a better view.

"We'll need more than twenty men, but Ser Addam does not lie. Here," Alysanne jabbed her finger to the same spot Jon had seen her studying earlier, "is my wedding gift from my uncle Tyrion, whether or not he knows it. I believe we all remember his fondness for whores?"

Maege Mormont snickered, as did a few of the other northern lords. Tyrion Lannister had been far from discreet about his visits to the Winter Town brothel. Edwyn Frey turned his nose up at Alysanne's language, but she paid no mind.

"My grandfather put him in charge of the Casterly Rock sewers. It was meant to be an insult, but my uncle has a knack for making the best of things. My grandfather holds a certain disdain for whores, and my uncle grew tired of having to travel to Lannisport every time he desired their services. So," Alysanne tapped the spot on the map again, "he installed a passage." Jon Umber laughed abruptly and loudly once he realized what Alysanne was saying, and she spared a moment to join him. "He told me of its existence the morning after my wedding.

Once the tides go out, it should be easily accessible. The main entry to the Rock is a cavern. It has a port, and when the sea comes in, it sounds like thunder. It'll mask any sound made from our initial assault. By the time they realize what's happening, it'll be too late."

It clicked in Jon's mind. She'd never meant to launch a siege. Jon met Arya's eyes across the table, and realization dawned on her face.

"Do you mean to send an army in through there?" Edwyn Frey asked.

Jon Connington eagerly leaned over the table. "She shouldn't need to. All we need to do is send enough men to open the gates and ensure they stay open."

Maege Mormont grinned wickedly. "They'll be focused on the siege you ordered. They won't be expecting it."

"It would honor me to lead the assault, your grace," Gregor Forrester jumped forward.

"Allow Dorne to be a part of the men who bring down the gates," Prince Oberyn said firmly. Alysanne released her grip from the table and straightened her back, but Jon could still see the tension rippling down her spine. "I will consider it a gesture of good will, a gift."

Alysanne could only manage a tight-lipped smile. "Ser Addam will lead the assault. He knows the Rock better than any of us, from his years spent there as a page."

Oberyn faced Ser Addam with a challenging raise of his brow, and after a quick glance at Alysanne, Ser Addam said, "You and your men are more than welcome."

"Jon," Alysanne said, "once Ser Addam opens the gate, you'll lead the rest of the men through the Lion's Mouth and into the keep at large." Alysanne analyzed those gathered. "Lord Harrion and Lady Maege will go with you. Apologies, Lord Umber and Lord Edwyn. I need some men to remain here with me."

The Smalljon did not appear to take any insult, and only waved away her apologies with a large hand. Ser Edwyn, however, scowled in a way that set Jon's teeth on edge. No doubt the refusal only compounded the anger he felt for being placed in charge of a false siege.

"And what of my men who don't join Ser Addam?" Aegon questioned, not impolitely.

After a moment of contemplation, Alysanne nodded. "If you wish, you may join Jon when the time comes. When the keep is secured, raise our banners."

"I want to go as well." Arya stepped forward with her head held high. Edwyn Frey smirkedto a man behind him, and Arya glared. "You've seen me fight. Syrio drills me every day. Bran is younger than me, and he was allowed to fight."

Oberyn watched Arya curiously, as did his daughters beside him. Alysanne dropped her head for a brief moment but raised it when Jorelle saddled up next to her and whispered in her ear.

"Go prepare your men. And be discreet about it," Alysanne ordered. Her voice softened when she looked from Arya to Jon. "Jon and Arya, a moment?"

The lords and ladies filed out, and already the promise of spilled blood was working its way through the camp. Jon nodded for Alyn to go ahead and ready their horses, and he moved to sit closer to Alysanne and Arya. They waited until the tent was well and truly empty to speak.

"Arya, I already broke one promise to your mother. I shan't betray her further and knowingly allow you to ride into battle." Arya reared back to protest, but Alysanne held up her hand with a pointed look. "However, I, for one, shall be entirely focused on the men remaining here with me. Perhaps you might stay in your own tent tonight. Of course, I can't be in two places at once, and I trust you'll remain where you aught." Alysanne finished her sentence with a sly smile, to which Arya swiftly caught on. She looked at Jon with wide eyes, and he minutely nodded.

"Of course, your grace. I shall stay out of your way tonight." Arya smiled politely and curtsied, to which Jon snorted. She sprinted from the tent, no doubt to gather Needle and scrounge for armor.

"She would have found a way to join me anyway," Jon reassured Alysanne at a despondent sigh. "She's grown too restless."

"Aye, I know. You'll keep her safe? You'll stay safe?" Alysanne had sunk back into her chair and the veneer shed. The Queen in the North no longer sat before him. Now she was just Alysanne. His sister, cousin, and perhaps his closest friend.

Jon pushed himself from his chair, and Ghost rose in unison. He leaned over and gave Alysanne a fond kiss on the top of her head. "I'll keep her out of trouble, no harm will come to her. Ser Addam and I will see to that." Alysanne closed her eyes and nodded. "I'll see you after."

With that, Jon left the tent and found where Alyn awaited with his horse. He set to the task of gathering his men, Alyn and Ghost traipsing after him. Ser Addam had long disappeared around the side of the Rock and tension wound tight in Jon's chest.

"Prince Jon! Will I ride into battle with you this time?" Alyn was nearly bouncing on his feet as he followed Jon. He is far too excited for battle. But had Jon not been the same, at his age?

Too often, Jon and Robb had dreamt of what it would be like to squire for a skilled knight, or even fight in battles of their own. Now that Jon knew the truth of the matter, he thought it a rather grim game for children to be playing.

He'd once more relegated Alyn to the rear of the men at Oxcross, just as he had at Stone Hedge, and Jon knew his squire had been disappointed. "It's not a question of your merit," Jon had reassured him each time. But Alyn was here, and what's more, he was skilled for his age. Jon would need to allow him to ride into battle some time, lest he grow as restless as Arya.

"Aye, Alyn. You'll ride beside me." Alyn let out an excited yelp and Jon stopped. He faced Alyn and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. "This won't be like Oxcross, or Stone Hedge. Stay by my side."

Alyn nodded eagerly, his hand clasped tight on the hilt of his sword. "I will. I promise."

Jon clapped his shoulder. "Good lad."

Jon mounted his horse and nodded at the men gathered behind him. And now my watch begins, he chuckled to himself. He considered Casterly Rock, so tall it disappeared into the night sky. It wasn't the candles that dotted the windows, or the way that the Lannister banner hung proudly from the walls that Jon watched. It was the gates to the Lion's Mouth. He hardly even noticed Arya coming to wait beside him.

Time stood still, until the massive gates of the Lion's Mouth heaved open. Jon called his men to march, and it began.