Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

by Deus Swiftblade

They had heard of the tourney at Harrenhal. They had heard of the rebellion that followed. They had heard of the defeated stag and the threatening wolf. They had thought that was just the past and was no concern of theirs. But the gods seem to enjoy watching the same play being preformed again, just with different mummers and at a different place.

2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 2: Mya

"Talking"

"Thinking"

(Location: Riverrun)

Her back was against the wall and her lips being kissed with a passion that went through her and down to her feet. But it was not something she wanted. "Aegon," she muffled through the kiss. She found his shoulders and pushed him off. "Aegon, stop, this is something that can't happen," she told the Crown Prince.

"I don't care," he said stubbornly. His face was scrunched in concentration. He was determined to keep kissing her.

"You're betrothed."

"I don't want Margaery Tyrell. I want you. I love you. You know that."

She did know. The night of the betrothal announcement, he had kissed her. It had been different than any way he had kissed her before. But she knew enough of the world that it couldn't be anything more than that. "I have to attend your sister," she told him. Before he could protest, she slipped from his grasp, something she had figured out how to do a long time ago, and quickly walked away from him. Not once she did see look back at him. She had made that mistake the first time. It was not one she repeated.

She found the room where the princess had commandeered to be the sewing room easily enough. When she opened the door to step in, the first thing she heard was, "Oh look, everyone! It's the Usurper's bastard!" come out of Tya Lannister, the eldest of Lady Cersei Lannister's children and who looked just like her mother. She sat amongst her own handmaidens. The whole room was like that, ladies from each kingdom watching one another.

"Now, Lady Tya, that is just rude. She does have a name," Margaery Tyrell said, only to turn her head to look at Mya. "I'm terribly sorry but I seem to have forgotten it. Who are you again?" she asked a well-placed look of embarrassment and confusion on her face. Beside her, her cousins started sniggering.

"It's Mya, my lady," she replied tonelessly. This wasn't the first time she did this.

"Mya, where were you?" the princess asked her. She sat near the center, with Daenerys beside her and her cousin close by.

"I apologize, Princess. I was held up." The look in her eyes showed that she knew what she had meant. "But I was able to get what you required." She held up a jug of Arbor gold for them all to see.

"Good. You may start pouring us drinks."

"Yes, your Highness." She walked slowly around the room, going to each and every one of the ladies in the room, even the other bastard. A small surge of anger rolled around in her stomach at the thought of it. Their fathers might have been close friends but she was considered to be two steps away from turning her cloak while Lady Sand had the favor of the princess. She squashed the anger down and poured her some of the wine.

"I would've thought that the Stark girls would've been here," Arianne mused from where she lounged on a divan, almost looking cat-like. "I didn't think Lady Stark would try to keep them from currying favor with the Iron Throne." She sent an amused look at her cousin at those words before looking at Jocelyn. "Where are the Starks, little rose?"

"No thank you, Mya," Princess Daenerys told her as she came close with the jug. The king's sister did not really drink and when she did, it would only be one or two cups.

"As you wish, Princess," she said, continuing on.

"Lady Stark would've sent her daughters here," Jocelyn told the others. "But they and the rest of her children insisted on taking their direwolves out around the castle, so they could take in all the new scents." Her hands tightened for a moment before relaxing again, a movement that they all saw but said nothing. "In any case, Sansa and Arya would probably think that this is an actual needlework session."

"Oh? Would that be so bad?" asked one of Tyrell's cousins.

She smiled. "Sansa would be all for it and Arya would do her best to get out of it. The little Underfoot would rather be around the Pack then ladies. I believe that they consider her to be an honorary member."

"Underfoot?" repeated Daenerys, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"The Pack?" repeated Arianne with an equally puzzled look.

The bastard smiled. "We call Arya Underfoot because she is always underfoot somewhere in Winterfell. As for the Pack, it's a group of sons of bannermen sent to Winterfell to become friends with their future lord and Prince Viserys."

Lady Lannister sniggered into her cup. "What qualifies as sons of noblemen in the North?"

Anger flashed for a moment in Lady Sand's eyes. "There's Daryn Hornwood, Cley Cerwyn, Roderick Dustin, Domeric Bolton, Smalljon Umber, Jack Mormont, Roger Ryswell, Harrion Karstark, Torrhen Wull, Morgan Liddle, and Asher Forrester to name a few."

"I know none of those names, so they must not be so important. I suspect not, as they are nothing but savages who freeze in that cold hell they call a home," she said with a dismissive sniff.

"I could say the same about the lords of the Westerlands, since they're nothing but grubby and dirty miners who dig in the muds that they call home."

While Lannister sputtered in outrage, Martell grinned like an amused cat. "I think our little rose has taken on some winter coloring to her sandy petals," she remarked, earning a giggle from the Dornish ladies as well the ones from the Crownlands. "Tell us, Jocelyn, how was the North?"

"Cold," she answered. "There was always snow everywhere, even in the summer. When I first saw it, I thought winter had come when I was asleep. As it turns out, a Northern summer is as mild as a Dornish winter."

"And how do you find it now?" Daenerys asked.

"I still find it cold some days."

"That's your Dornish blood speaking," Arianne said with a proud smirk, like she had won a victory. "You are from the south after all."

"Aye, but I'm of the North too."

"Foreign on both sides, I say," Tya Lannister remarked nastily.

"No more foreign then the Reach or the Westerlands are to those who have never been there, my lady," Margaery said, coming to the bastard's defense.

"Humph!" she sniffed and drained her wine. She held out her cup. "Bastard, pour me another!"

Mya was given a subtle nod by her princess and stepped around the room to the Lannister side of it all. In silence she poured and in silence she stepped away when she was done. Lady Tya barely spared her a glance and yet, that was all she seemed to need. "So tell us, Lady Margaery, when is the wedding going to be?"

Mya didn't know why she felt the need to ask that question. They would get nothing out of her. But she saw the Rose of Highgarden's eyes flicked towards her and then back to the lion in the room. "Not any time soon, I can assure you. We have only been recently betrothed. We are still young."

"Still, your lord father will want you to marry soon."

"Yes, but probably not for a couple of moons."

WHAM!

WHAM!

The ladies there, with the exception of a few, jumped back in surprise. The door to the room rattled in place as it was pounded upon. "What in the seven hells?" one of the Reach ladies asked in a near panicked voice.

However, both Rhaenys and Daenerys were unconcerned. "Mya," the daughter of the king said.

She didn't anything else and Mya didn't need to hear anything else. She placed the jug on a nearby table before walking towards the door, idly tracing a finger over the bracer on her left arm. She opened the door and looked upon a face that would inspire nightmares. "Hound," she said in simple greeting.

"Bastard," he replied in that course voice of his, looking down at her with that ruined face, his mouth always twisted into a half-smile. He pushed the door and stepped in without another word to her. "Girl, your mother wants you."

"Thank you, Sandor," Daenerys said as she stood up from her seat and walked over to the door. She passed the man without any fear. The door closed with a loud slam!

"What in the seven hells was that!?" one of the ladies of the Riverlands demanded, her voice near hysterical and her wide eyes still staring at the door. "Was it a demon?"

"That was Queen Rhaella's and Princess Daenerys's sworn shield," Arianne said with an amused smirk, one that she shared with Tya. "I believe he's called the Hound."

"Actually, his name is Sandor of House Clegane," the Lannister of the two replied. "He's from the Westerlands."

"Why would the queen mother and the princess have a sworn shield when they have the Kingsguard?" one of the Reach ladies asked. "They don't need another knight."

"The Hound isn't a knight," Mya spoke, making everyone in the room turn their heads to her. "And he'll be insulted if you call him such."

"Yes, thank you, Mya," Princess Rhaenys said. She didn't say anything else, understanding the princess was telling her to shut her mouth.

"How about we turn our attention away from that ugly person and turn our attention to a far more interesting subject?" the Princess of Dorne suggested with a naughty smirk on her lips.

"Like what?" one of the Tyrell cousins' asked, an innocent expression on her lips.

"The handsome men who have attended this tourney," she said with a mischievous smirk. "There are an abundance of them here. I saw one such man covered in such lovely muscles and tall too! I thought he might've been a giant."

Lady Lannister frowned at those words. "The Mountain isn't here at this tourney," she remarked. Mya knew enough about Ser Gregor Clegane that she was glad to hear those words. As course and rude as he was, she preferred the Hound to the Mountain that rides.

"It might've been Smalljon Umber," Jocelyn offered. "Did he have a sigil of a screaming giant anywhere on him?"

"I do not know, I did not look," she replied.

"Smalljon?" one of the Dornish ladies asked. "Who is he small to?"

"His father, the Greatjon," the bastard lady answered. "He's over seven feet tall."

"By the Seven," a good number of the ladies there said in awe.

"A brute from the North is nothing really to look at, except for the first time," one of the Crownlands' ladies said. "But the Knight of Flowers is here. He's such a handsome man!" She practically swooned at that, making Mya rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'd say that Ser Daemon Sand is far more handsome," one of the Dornish said in defense.

"A bastard is more handsome then the Knight of Flowers?" a Tyrell said with a scoff. "You must be joking."

"Of course she is joking and you are too," Tya said scornfully. "Everyone knows that my uncle is the best man here."

"Which one?" asked a Riverlands' lady, put off by her arrogant attitude. "Would it be the Imp or the Kingslayer?" Laughter abounded as the face of lady Lannister turned as red as her sigil.

"I know that he is no knight like my other brothers, but I do know that Willas is handsome too," Margaery said, choosing to speak of her eldest brother instead of the favored one (of which the Tyrells made attempt to hide but could not), which said something of her character. Having met her eldest brother, Mya knew she spoke true. She also knew that Willas was kind and could poke gentle fun at his own injury (yet it was not without its own sadness).

But one of the Westerlands ladies, a Lannister of Lannisport, scoffed at that. "Handsome or not, he's a cripple. He'd be nothing if he wasn't the heir."

It also said something of their character when both Margaery and Arianne leapt to their feet and turned furious eyes onto the Lannister of Lannisport. The Reach and Dorne united in common cause. The princess had also stood up from her chair as well, her eyes burning hot like the dragon her family claimed to be blood of. But if the princess did something stupid, it would reflect poorly on her.

But they already thought of Mya as a usurper's bastard, what did she have to worry about? She marched over to the lady's side and placed a very firm grip on her shoulder. "Take back that statement or get out," she said to the noblewoman.

"What?" she squawked in reply, "how dare you lay your hands on me, bastard?"

"Take back that statement or get out," she repeated herself.

The lady looked at Tya, who did not look back. "Let me go!" she decided to yowl instead.

"Out it is, then." She forced the lady up to her feet, all but dragged her to the door, opening it and then shoving her out.

She knew the stares would be there as she turned around. But her eyes were on the princess. Rhaenys did nothing and said nothing to her. It was Arianne who did. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Somebody was going to have to do it," she replied simply, walking back to where she stood before. "It might as well have been me."

"Yes, after all, she is a bastard and a usurper's bastard at that," Tya remarked into her cup. No one said a word to that.

"I just had the most wonderful idea to make this tourney much more interesting for us ladies," Arianne said with a wicked little smile.

"What is it?" Jocelyn asked her.

"How about we play the Woman's game?"

"The Woman's game?" repeated of the Riverlands ladies, possibly a Blackwood. "What is that? I've never heard of it."

"Oh, it's a great game played in the south," she said with a light laugh. "Think of it as the chance to crown a man here as our Queen of Love and Beauty, or in his case, King of Valor and Chivalry."

"How is it played?" A Westerlands lady asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Among us ladies here, we choose a man from the people who have come," Margaery told her. "And then we all try to win that man's favor. At the end of the tourney, who he chooses wins."

"But what if he doesn't win the tourney?"

To that, the ladies of the Deep South laughed. "It would not matter," Arianne told her. "All that would matter is if he chose you or not."

"Oh," she said understandingly. "So who do we choose?"

"How about your brother, Princess Arianne?" suggested Margaery with a smile that all but shined. "I'm sure he would not mind."

"You would have me step out of the game after suggesting it?" the Dornish Princess asked with a feigned look of shock. "How devious of you, my lady," she said to the Rose of Highgarden. But then the look faded. "Besides, Quentyn is not exactly on the best terms with us right now after coming back from Yronwood."

"What happened?" Jocelyn asked her.

"He made a comment that was completely uncalled for. It's nothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "Now, does anyone have any suggestions?"

"Why not the Knight of Flowers?" suggested Tya.

That had some people agreeing; some, but not all. "I don't see anything with wrong with Ser Harry from the Vale," said another lady, probably from the Vale itself.

"He's not a ser, he's just a squire," a Frey (the Seven only knows which one. There were already far too many) said with a disdainful sniff. "And not even a good one at that."

"And who would you suggest? One of your family members?" she replied.

"Why shouldn't I?" asked the Frey challengingly.

"Because it's a game we wish to play," Arianne said with a smirk. While the Frey girl spluttered, she turned to look at her royal cousin. "How about you, coz?" she asked. "Who do you think we should play for?"

"Well…there's always Ser Daemon Sand," Princess Rhaenys offered weakly. It seemed like she wasn't really interested in the game.

"Come now, coz. If you had to pick a man, who would it be?"

"Certainly not any of the ones you all suggested," she said with no weakness in her voice, looking at the entire room. "Every time I have played the game, they, along with many knights from the southern kingdoms, have been named over and over again. It gets boring after a while. We need to choose someone new, someone who's never played the game before."

"Ooh," said Arianne with a knowing smirk. "Some Northern lord has caught your eye, has he? You think we should play for him, is that it?"

"Robb Stark is certainly handsome, he looks just like his uncle Edmure," Margaery said, making her cousins giggle. "Although Theon Greyjoy isn't too bad to look at either," she added as an afterthought.

"If I had said that, they would've looked at me like I was mad," Mya thought to herself. However, since the Rose of Highgarden said it, the others all nodded and agreed. It was like they had forgotten the rebellion Lord Greyjoy rose up in.

"I do say that there was one such man among the northern group who was quite handsome," a Bracken lady remarked. "He was pale of skin but it was lovely. And his eyes were like two full moons staring back at me. I never did get his name."

"That's probably Domeric Bolton," Jocelyn told her. "He, Jack Mormont, and Asher Forrester are usually thick as thieves in the Pack, yet you never would've thought it at first glance."

"Why's that?" one of the Fowler twins asked, only for her to smile mysteriously.

"Well, coz?" Arianne asked Rhaenys. "Have the men named caught your attention?"

"Actually, coz, I already had someone in mind," she replied.

"Who would it be?" asked Jocelyn.

"Your cousin," she answered.

That mysterious smirk was still on her face. "Good choice. I'm sure that Robb will like all the ladies here showing their affection and trying to win his favor. It might make some of the other men jealous." The entire room filled with giggling at the thought.

"I wasn't talking about Robb Stark."

The smirk vanished and was replaced with a look of concern. "Rhaenys, Bran and Rickon are practically babes compared to you. Tell me you're not considering robbing the cradle for the game."

"I'm not," she said, "for I wasn't thinking of them either."

"Then who…?" Her voice fell silent but her eyes grew wide. "You cannot be serious."

"I am."

"Out of every lord who's come south, you want us to play for him?"

"Why shouldn't we?" she asked her friend, watching her carefully. "Give me a good reason we shouldn't." Jocelyn Sand opened her mouth but no words came out. As this went on, a satisfied and smug expression appeared on the princess's face. "You can't think of one, can you? Not without making yourself sound like a hypocrite."

"Who are you talking about?" Tya asked.

"My bastard brother, Jon Snow," answered Jocelyn.

All eyes turned to the princess. "A bastard?" said Lady Lannister. "You would have us play for a bastard?"

She turned her gaze to her. "Aside from his being a bastard, what exactly is wrong with him? Have you even met him?"

"No, of course not," she said with a dismissive sniff.

"I have, last night outside in the courtyard. If I had not seen Robb Stark entered and introduced, I would've thought that Jon Snow was Eddard Stark's trueborn son."

"So he was handsome?" Arianne asked. Mya saw the interested gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, he was. I also think he was not aware of it." Her eyes found every lady in the room. "Do not be put off by his status. Think of it as a challenge instead. It would not be the same as trying to win the affection and favor of a southern knight, would it?"

They all began to make sounds of knowing acknowledgement. "You're right, your Highness. It would be different," one of the Tyrells said in acknowledgement. "He probably wouldn't think it would happen to him."

"True. And I personally think he would be flattered and honored," Tya added. "A bastard such as himself would never have such highborn ladies pay attention to him."

"So we are in agreement," the princess declared. "We shall play for Lord Stark's son. Let the best of us win." She raised her goblet in a drinking salute, only to stop when she saw what was left. Still, she drank it with the others. "Mya, we need more wine."

"The jug is empty, your Highness," Mya replied. She had been pouring every time one of the ladies had raised a cup.

"Then go get more. The same kind as before," she added as an afterthought.

"Yes, your Highness." She left the room without another word. The empty jug was in her hand as she walked back through the halls. It was a good thing she knew the way from their room to the kitchens, otherwise she might end up getting lost. That leads to her wasting time and the princess doesn't really like that.

It was an easy trip, most likely ten to fifteen minutes. That is until she heard "Mya!" heard the sound of feet running, and felt a sudden weight around her middle. She looked down and saw black hair and blue eyes just like hers but with big ears (courtesy of her mother's house). She smiled. "Hello, Shireen."

Her cousin smiled back as she looked up at her. "Have you seen the castle?" she asked.

"Not much. I've been busy." While she loved her little cousin, her duties were more prominent.

"Shireen," the hard voice of her uncle spoke, making both of them come still. Shireen stepped away and they both looked at Lord Stannis standing before them. He was tall, his blue eyes hard, and his black hair thinning on the top of his head. His wife was nowhere in sight, only his right hand man, Ser Davos Seaworth.

She curtsied to him. "Lord Baratheon," she greeted him. As she stood back up, she tried to hide the wine jug behind her so that he wouldn't see it.

He didn't say anything in way of greeting to her but he did see the movement of her arm. "What is that you're holding?" he asked his voice sharp and quick.

She flinched and brought it out for him to see. "It's a wine jug," she answered. "I am following my princess's commands."

He didn't say anything, he only stared at her. His gaze was so intent that she could not keep it. Her eyes fell to the floor, seeing it along with her feet and the jug. "Where is Renly?" he asked her.

"I do not know, my lord. I have not seen him." That was a partial lie as she had only seen her other uncle with the Tyrells earlier that day. But other than that, she had not seen him.

"…Go about your duties."

"Yes, my lord."

"Goodbye, Mya," Shireen said as she followed her father. Her bastard cousin watched in silence as they left.

It was only when Lord Stannis was out of sight that she breathed again. It had been like that ever since they had first met. She had not been aware of her father when she was in the Eyrie. That had only been discovered when the royal family had come to visit and the king came across her. He brought her to the capital to be the personal servant to his daughter. Why, she did not know and she had never asked.

It was in the capital that she had met the rest of House Baratheon and it was Lord Stannis who she had met first. His scrutinizing gaze was one she could remember with perfect clarity. What did he look for when he looked at her like that? Was he trying to find his brother, her father, in her? She did have a temper, but she had learned to control it (she had to, after spending so many years in the capital).

She kept on walking through the halls, ignoring the looks from servants and handmaidens who knew her and their whispering.

"Bastard."

"Usurper's child."

"Blood traitor."

She had heard them all and her skin was thick. She never would've thought that advice from a Lannister would be helpful but the Imp's words had proven true time and time again. She was a bastard. That was her armor. She wore it as she went down to the kitchen, but she knew that there chinks in it. Three were known to her: Aegon (she did not love him the way he did her but she did not want see to him hurt), her uncles and their family (they were her blood, try as some of them might not like it), and the Tyrells (specifically, one Tryell).

End

Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.

Before you get your hopes up, Robert only had Mya before in he died. So that means no Gendry and no Gendarya. For those of you who were hoping for that to happen, oh well.

I've read my fair share of stories (both real and on Fanfiction) where the men characters play a game to seduce the main girl character and make her fall in love with one of them (and perhaps taking it one step further). Some had bad outcomes but most were the outcome you'd expect. But it was always the guys on the girl, not the other way around. So this is going to be my attempt at doing that.

If you look at the map of Westeros, you can kind of split it into three areas. Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Crownlands are the Deep South, the Westerlands, the Iron Islands, the Riverlands, and the Vale are the Upper South, and the North is…well, that's obvious. With a Dornish influence at court (a Martell as queen, there's going to be a Dornish influence), something like the Woman's game would be played more often than not. And while the younger Upper South ladies might not have heard of such a game, they'd be interested in playing it.

Think of Tya Lannister as the female version of Joffrey, albeit without the incest. Let's face it, since Rhaegar wasn't going to marry Cersei and told her father right to his face, there was no reason for Tywin to keep her around in King's Landing. So he took her back to the Rock and away from Jaime. I'll get to her father eventually.

And now you see the fullness of the title. It's not just a Targaryen wanting a Stark; it's a Targaryen wanting a Baratheon as well. It's the same scenario but a different situation. But as I said before, this is not going to be a typical romance story. Mya isn't going to be the girl who loves above her station, marries the prince, becomes the queen, and lives happily ever after. She knows her place and she knows that what Aegon wants is never going to happen.

I'll see you all next chapter!