Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.
Another dragon, another wolf, another stag
Chapter 8: Rhaenys
"Talking"
"Thinking"
(Location: Riverrun)
She could have said that she did not know why she felt like she needed to go to the godswood in the morning. She could've said that she wanted to know what it felt like to pray to the old gods. She could have said either of or any number of things but the truth of the matter was quite simple: she wanted to see Jon Snow again.
She danced with him only once the previous night and it was all she could think of now. She had tried to sleep but got little, tossing around in her bed. When she did sleep, all she could dream was of him. She could still feel the touch of his fingers against her skin, deliciously cool. His brown hair had framed his face nicely with curls that were begging to be touched by her fingers. His grey eyes watched her as they danced, curious yet guarded. She knew that he had questions he wanted to ask but did not. She wanted him to ask those questions, to have those eyes lose their guard. But he didn't and when the dance was done, he left the hall.
She was disappointed but she held the first victory in the game. All the other girls couldn't even touch him as he walked out of the hall. He shouldn't have done that, it wasn't proper in the game, but it made her victory sweeter. Now it made her want him more. When the sun rose, she rose with it, evading Mya as she walked out of her chambers. She strode through Riverrun, intent on going to the godswood. Behind her walked Jocelyn. It was from her she learned where Jon Snow slept. She had learned from some other ladies, but the princess did not care about that.
"Rhaenys, there will be plenty of time to see him around when it is a proper time," Jocelyn said. She was still waking up and was more than vaguely annoyed that her bedmate had roused her at such an early hour.
"By then the others will surround him like vultures on a corpse," she replied. No, if she wanted a chance to see him alone, now was the time. Once she found him in the godswood, she would send Jocelyn away.
"I believe that's called fair play," her friend told her as they stepped out into the courtyard and headed for the gate leading into the godswood. "You must let the others have their turn with him." They weren't alone in the courtyard, the servants already going about their duties and chores. But they wore cloaks and hoods over their dresses. No one took real notice of them.
"They just want to win the game and would do anything to do it."
"And you don't?" she asked with more than a hint of amusement in her voice.
She stopped in her tracks, holding her foot over a trunk of a tree burrowing its way into the ground. "No," she said. She didn't look back at Jocelyn. She started moving again.
Jocelyn followed her, she heard that much. "Rhaenys, this is just a game," she said as they walked through the woods.
"It's not to me." She might've suggested it as such, but it wasn't a game to her. Not now.
"You barely know Jon."
"And I wish to know him more now. Do not argue with me, Jocelyn. Just let me know where it is he is sleeping," she declared with authority that came with being a Targaryen princess.
She heard an annoyed sound from her friend but not turn around to see her make it. But she did stop at the next tree and waited for her. The sight she found herself looking at was pretty enough. The godswood here in Riverrun reminded her of the one in King's Landing. The trees provided shade that mottled the sun's light onto the bark and leaves. Above her head the birds began their rousing or already flew through the air, making it come alive with their cries. The only thing that was missing was the smell of the sea.
It didn't take long for Jocelyn to catch up to her side. "You are very stubborn and annoying," she told her.
"Aegon's told me that before," she said without thought. Her brother always claimed it made her more of a Martell than a Targaryen. But he was wrong; she was a dragon just like he was. And what a dragon wants, a dragon has. "Now, shall we keep moving already?"
"Yes, yes, lead on."
They continued on through the godswood, crossing over roots burrowed halfway into the ground and burbling little streams. Flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with a pleasant aroma. Rhaenys made a private note to herself to have some of those flowers harvested and brought back to King's Landing to see if they could be made into perfume. But that wasn't a pressing matter. She had to find Jon Snow.
She found him sleeping against the trunk of the heart tree. She stopped and looked at him closely. There, with his head resting against the white bark of the tree, his face didn't have any of the solemnness or guarded expressions she saw on him as they danced. There, at that moment, he looked more like a boy than a man. But there was some sadness there even as he slept. It was just there on his face, an almost sad expression that lingered on his face. She didn't know why but she was willing to find out.
Jocelyn was at her side but didn't say anything. When she finally took a step forward to the heart tree, she heard the growl of one of the direwolves. She looked down and saw a grey-haired one standing before her, watching her with golden eyes. The growl wasn't loud or threatening, more like a warning.
She took the step back but Jocelyn looked at the direwolf. "What are you doing here, Nymeria?" she asked, pulling her hood down. The wolf stopped the growling but turned its attention to her. "Go away, go back to Arya."
"She's named Nymeria?" Rhaenys asked with amusement. Her cousin would probably hate it, sharing a name with a wolf.
"Arya loves warrior women," her friend said in way of explanation. "Go away, Nymeria," she told the direwolf again. She took the step forward and this time, the black direwolf appeared by its sister's side. "Shaggydog, what are you doing here?"
Rhaenys would've asked who would name their pet Shaggydog if she hadn't heard the youngest Stark boy call for it when they had arrived. The two direwolves stared them down, gold and green eyes watching them intently. When she tried stepping forward again, the growling intensified. She stopped and so did the growling. She found confusing. "What are they doing?" she asked Jocelyn.
"I'm not sure, but they are being annoying," she replied. She took a step forward and waved a harsh hand through the air at him. "Go away, you two. Go run in the woods." But the wolves did not move. "Go!" They didn't move.
"I don't think you're not enough of a Stark for them to listen to you, Joce," Rhaenys said with a hint of smile.
Jocelyn might've said something or glared at her for that comment if she wasn't so focused on the wolves. "Go away, you two! Shoo already." But the two direwolves did not move. They would not move. Her friend was getting more and more irritated with second passing them by. She kept waving at them and urging to them leave but they wouldn't. "Argh, I despise these gods-damned wolves," she growled.
"Perhaps an easier touch would be needed?"
"They were growling at you, not me, Rhaenys."
"I think I just need to explain myself to them." She had a feeling that the wolves were smart enough to understand what they were saying. If she spoke to them, they might just let them pass. She knelt down to their level, lowering her hood and looking at them in their own eyes. "Would you be so kind as to let us pass?" she asked them, putting all the charm she had into her voice. "I only wish to speak with Jon Snow."
It didn't have the desired effect. In fact, she would say the opposite was closer. The black wolf might've leapt out and snapped his teeth at her if his sister hadn't been at his side. She nipped him in his side and he stayed put. Behind them, Jon Snow shifted in his sleep. His face shifted into an expression that was worrisome. A single word escaped his lips, "Mother." It was faint but it hung in the air.
Both Rhaenys and Jocelyn looked at him at the sound of the word. "Why does he say that word?" the princess asked the bastard.
"I don't know," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Don't you share the same mother?" It made sense to her.
But now Jocelyn looked uneasy. "It's not something that we've discussed up at Winterfell. Lord Stark did not speak of it and Lady Stark would not remember it." There was bitterness in her voice as she spoke about Lord Stark's wife. Rhaenys was no fool. She had seen the way that Lady Catelyn had looked at both Jocelyn and Jon. She looked at them like she wished that they did not exist. It angered her. Jocelyn was her friend and Jon…Jon was something she would have soon.
When they turned back to look at Jon Snow, a third direwolf had joined them. This one, Rhaenys knew, having met Ghost before. The albino was slightly bigger than its siblings and watched her with its blood-red eyes. Jocelyn groaned slightly at the sight of it. "Not you too, Ghost. Would you just go away?" she demanded.
But the wolf didn't move at her command. It just kept watching Rhaenys. To her, it felt like the wolf was waiting for her to make the first move. So she obliged him. "May I speak to your master?" she asked it.
The albino looked back at its master still sleeping against the heart tree. Again, he wore only a tunic and pants. There were no boots on his feet (those were nearby) so she could see its pale flesh splayed out in his sleep. The clothes were quite shoddy but to her eye they looked like they were cast-offs. That could be why they were shoddy, or it might just be because he was sleeping in the open against the heart tree.
When Ghost looked back at her, it tilted its head slightly to the right. She took that as a question and went with it. "I just only wish to talk to him." What they would be talking about would be something else entirely.
Her answer seemed to please the albino. It muscled its way in between its siblings and urged them away with nips in their fur. When the black one whined in protest, it nipped again harder. The two other direwolves disappeared into the godswood, leaving them alone before the heart tree.
Ghost padded up to its master and gave him a rough lick across the face. It took a few attempts but Jon eventually came awake. "What is it, Ghost?" he asked as he wiped the tongue spit off of his face with one hand while with the other, he reached for the boots. When he finally looked up and saw her standing there, his eyes widened in surprise. If it had been any other person, she might've giggled at the reaction. But for him, she held it in. "Your Highness," he said, stumbling slightly with those two word.
"Jon Snow, you left the feast early," she remarked, staring down at him. "You left quite the number of ladies upset."
"Up-upset?" he repeated, clearly confused by what she was saying.
"Yes, many of them wish to have what I have."
"Oh." His confusion vanished and the guarded expression she had seen on him before was back. He went back to what he was doing, putting the boots on his feet. When he was done, he looked past her. "Jocelyn, what are you doing here?"
"I am here so you don't do anything to the princess."
"Jocelyn, there is no need to be rude to your brother," Rhaenys told her, lightly chastising. She scowled in reply but didn't actually say anything to her.
"Your Highness, is there something you require of me?" Jon Snow asked her, bringing her attention back to him. He stood up before her, matching her in height even though she was his elder. His tunic and hose were dark in color and slightly dirty with leaves, sticks, and the odd clump of dirt.
"I require many things of you, Jon Snow," she told him with a little smile on her lips. She had used that smile on men and boys before. She knew it was enough to make men who were old enough to have seen her born and boys who could barely grow even the faintest of facial hairs pause and look at her with barely restrained breaths and eyes that followed her when she left. She had practiced and perfected it on her brother before she moved to other people.
She could see the bobbing of his throat when he looked at that smile, she had the breath. But the eyes were the same, guarded and solemn. "Many things?" he repeated.
"Yes, many things. But for now, I would be please if you walked with me."
"Where, your Highness?"
She laughed a light laugh that was used just as much as her smile. "I haven't the faintest idea. Let us find out together. Come." She reached out and took him by the hand. She didn't wait for his consent. She turned and started walking.
"Your High—" Whatever Jon Snow was going to say next, it was cut off by his stumbling. Jocelyn laughed as he almost fell but he soon regained his balance and quickly stood by her side. His wolf came to his other side and Jocelyn came to Rhaenys's. Together, they started walking through the godswood.
Rhaenys liked the feel of Jon Snow's hand in hers. It was just big enough to enfold hers but not engulf it entirely. He had every reason to let go but he didn't. "Tell me of Winterfell, Jon Snow," she told him as they walked under the trees. The sun was rising up through the trees, shining its light on the leaves. Aegon and the others would be getting up soon.
He looked at her with a questioning look. "Hasn't Jocelyn told you about it?"
"I wish to hear about it from you. I fear that Jocelyn would give me a colored description of it."
"I'm not that person anymore, Rhaenys," her friend told her. When she looked over at her, there was a slightly annoyed look.
Rhaenys saw that look but could only remember the day that Lady Dayne recovered from her sickness. She had announced that Jocelyn would go to Winterfell within the week to the royal family in a private setting. Jocelyn had protested loud and hard enough that she had thought people outside the room would've heard. Then she had said something that she shouldn't have and her mother did something Rhaenys never would have thought she would do.
But she did not want to think about that. She turned her face to look at Jon Snow again. "Indulge me, if you would."
And he did. He told her of Winterfell. He didn't try to impress her with eloquence or poetry in his words. He didn't try to make Winterfell sound like it came from a dream or a song. He simply told her about it. He painted it with simple words and simple descriptions. He spoke about how he and his half-brother would train in the yard of the castle or watch their younger brothers practice. He spoke of the Pack and their days together (although Rhaenys thought he sounded a little bit bitter on that). He spoke of his little sister Arya following them around, acting more like a boy than a girl. Jocelyn would add in a word every once in a while but it was mostly his words that gave her the image of Winterfell.
When he was done, Jocelyn had a question of her own. "What were Nymeria and Shaggydog doing around you?" she asked him.
"They were?" he asked, puzzled.
"Yes, they were." They walked around a large redwood tree as she spoke. The wolf took a minute to sniff the base before catching up to them.
"I didn't see them."
"That's because Ghost chased them off before he woke you up. But what were they doing there in the first place?"
"I could not tell you that, Joce," he said. It was obvious that he didn't know. He had an innocent look on his face at the question. Jocelyn frowned at him but said nothing more about it. The wolf at his side didn't do anything to contribute, only kept walking forward.
"I am more interested in why you were sleeping out in the godswood," Rhaenys said aloud, looking at the bastard holding her hand. She absently noticed that they were nearing the entrance to the godswood. She would have to steer the walk in a different direction if she wanted to keep him to herself for a little while longer.
His cheeks became red with blush. "I found my chambers to be too warm," he said quickly, not looking her in the eye. "I could not sleep easily."
"So you chose to sleep outside in the godswood?"
"Yes. The old gods would keep watch over me as I slept."
She didn't know about that but when she thought about it, the face carved into the heart tree had a shared quality with him. It was the sadness they shared as Jon Snow slept, more so when he had said that one word. It had been a part of what made him look more a boy than man with his eyes closed.
She was about to steer them away from the entrance when Tya Lannister appeared. "Your Highness, Lord Snow, there you are!" she said with a joy that Rhaenys knew was faked. It was just too exaggerated to be real. "We were beginning to think that you wouldn't show for support."
"Support for what?" Jocelyn asked her.
Her green eyes saw her and Rhaenys saw the disgust and disdain for her friend in them. But it didn't last long and the daughter of Cersei Lannister smiled widely. "Why, Prince Aegon is sparring against other noble sons in the practice yard, including the Northmen."
"We shall be along presently, Lady Tya," Rhaenys assured. She took that as enough and left, although she left with a lingering look at Jon Snow.
"So who's going to beat him?" Jocelyn asked as they began walking towards the entrance proper. The wolf turned and left silently with no urging, disappearing into the godswood.
"What do you mean by that, Joce?" Jon Snow asked her.
"Who's going to beat the prince?"
"You don't have any faith in my brother, Jocelyn?" Rhaenys asked her.
"He could barely hold a training sword when I saw him last."
"Times change, my friend," she said.
"Your Highness, perhaps I should let go of your hand now," Jon said to her.
She looked at their hands together, hers feeling comfortable inside his. "Why should we?" she asked, looking up at him. She held the question in her eyes mixed in with innocence.
He blushed faintly again but kept eye contact with her. "It would not look good for a northern bastard to be holding the hand of the Targaryen princess."
She could see the reasoning in his words but ignored it all the same. "Why should it be a concern?" she asked him. She started walking, ignoring his protests (faint as they may be) as she pulled him gently but firmly along.
Together they walked into the courtyard and attracted the eye of everyone there; with the exception of Aegon and whoever he was dueling. A Kingsguard stood close by, watching everything that happened. Who it was, Rhaenys couldn't tell from this distance. But she was a little amused when she saw that Obara, Nymeria, Tyene, and Arianne were already coming her way. The firm grasp holding her hand disappeared and from the corner of her eye, she saw Jon Snow step away.
She turned to follow him but Obara quickly stood in her way, her spear in hand. "What are you doing?" she demanded in an angry hiss.
She stared hard at her bastard cousin. "Watch your tone with me, Obara," she said in reply. The sound of swords hitting each other again and again filled the air but quickly became a dull sound in the back of her ear.
"Rhae, we told you to stay away from that dog," Nymeria said.
For a moment, she compared the Sand Snake to the direwolf and found herself almost smiling at the comparison. But she knew that she couldn't right now. "He has a name, Nymeria," she told her cousin. "And he is the same as you."
"Rhaenys, he is nothing like her or us," Tyene said, her quiet voice almost sweet and delicate. But Rhaenys knew that could be easily faked. "For one thing, he isn't as pretty as Nym."
"For another, he's the son of the dog, Ned Stark," Obara growled.
"I believe that the Stark sigil is a wolf," Arianne remarked lightly.
"And he is a bastard, the same as you three," Rhaenys said, looking at the Sand Snakes. "From the way you've acted just now would make me believe that Sarella is the sensible one of the four of you."
"That would be because she is currently taunting the Greyjoy boy in front of his sister, waiting to see how long it will take for him to crack." She said this with an amused look on her face.
They all heard the sound of someone falling to the ground. If she had to go by she heard her brother cry out victoriously, she assumed that Aegon had won. "Seven hells, he did actually get better," Jocelyn said, an impressed tone to her voice.
Rhaenys looked over at the sparring ground and saw her brother standing over one of the Northmen, she couldn't tell who. "As I said, Joce, times change." When she observed the crowd, she saw Margaery Tyrell standing close to Aegon beside her brother Loras and Renly Baratheon. The three of them always did seem to be close. But while Aegon gave his betrothed his customary smile that sent many a ladies' hearts fluttering, his eyes were searching for someone else.
She knew who he was looking for. "Why must you keep looking for her?" she asked him silently. The last time she asked him personally, he didn't answer and didn't speak to her for the better half of three weeks. But his eyes missed her as Mya walked towards to her, wearing one of her old black dresses. "Your Highness, Lady Jocelyn," she said in simple greeting, holding a piece of parchment in one of her hands. "Would you like to add to the wagers?"
"What wagers?" Rhaenys asked her.
"Your court has been making wages on the prince's sparring matches. I've been tasked with keeping the odds and the bets."
"By who?" she demanded. Mya didn't say anything to answer, only flicking her eyes at her cousin once. It was all she needed to turn on her. "Arianne, Mya is my handmaiden, not yours."
"Someone has to keep track of the betting," Nymeria remarked as she idly stroked the leather whip at her side. Rhaenys looked at her sharply but she did not say anything else. Mya looked at them both before placing her free hand on the bracer she wore on her arm.
"What's the betting looking like?" Jocelyn asked Mya. "Are there any bets against Aegon?"
"Actually, there are none."
She was confused and it showed. "Than what are you betting on?"
"How long each opponent lasts against him," she answered blandly. "Loras Tyrell is the one who lasted the longest, about four minutes worth. I should also mention that the prince had lifted the old sanction against the royal family for the spar."
Tya looked surprised at that but Rhaenys wasn't. If someone struck the royal family, they would lose the striking hand. It was something they thought carried over to the sparring yard and would hinder it. Aegon lifting it made sense. He did love a good spar.
"You fought well, Ser Domeric," Aegon said to the boy he bested. Rhaenys looked back at the fight and saw him holding a hand. The boy took it and with his aide stood up. When he reached his full height, Rhaenys saw that he was Domeric Bolton.
"My thanks, your Highness, but I am no knight," he replied as he removed his hand, his voice on the quiet side.
"Then I shall call you my Lord Domeric."
"That would not be true either. My father is Lord of the Dreadfort, not me. Not yet." The court of young knights, squires, and ladies began to mutter amongst themselves. Oddly enough, the Northern group (small as it may be) was not speaking. But then the boy smile gently. "But I would be honored if you called Domeric."
"So be it, Domeric," Aegon said with a smile. Rhaenys could practically hear the hearts of those maidens flutter in their chests. "You fought well."
"As did you, your Highness. I dare say that you've gone through quite a number of the Pack this morning." A laugh came from the northerners, with a few being pushed around in good jest. The smiles were just as good. She saw a black bear, a white tree, and buckets among the sigils on the men with the Northern group.
"I enjoy taking on fresh challenges," her brother said. "You northerners are a capable lot, you most of all, so far. I fear that the Knight of Flowers would meet his match against you." Loras Tyrell did not look like he agreed with those words, if the slight scowl on his face said anything. But he did not let it go any further than that.
"You honor me, Prince Aegon. However, I am only the second best swordsman who resides in Winterfell," Domeric said to him.
Aegon smiled. "Then I would like to try my strength against Robb Stark if he is such a fierce swordsman."
"Robb is a good with a sword in his hands, but he isn't the one I speak of."
"Then who?" he asked, curious.
"Jon Snow," he answered.
The entire yard fell silent and turned to Jon Snow. So did Rhaenys and Jocelyn. He stood at a far corner, with a fat boy in a green jerkin, a squire with grey hair, and (much to Rhaenys's surprise) Ser Daemon Sand and Quentyn. But even they were silent and staring at him now, taking a step away from him. He looked around at everyone, plainly uncomfortable.
"Jon Snow," her brother called out to him as Domeric stepped away. "Come join me. I would test my sword arm against yours." The people standing between the two parted, leaving Jon Snow a clean path to the center.
But yet, he did not move from his place. Everyone was silent as they waited for him to take that first step and walk to the prince. "That cannot be so, your Highness," he finally said, bowing his head to him.
Aegon's smile faltered and Rhaenys could see the confusion in his eyes. "Why is that?"
"I am a bastard."
There was silence in the courtyard. Then her brother laughed and when he laughed, so did the rest of his court. It was not a mocking laugh or a cruel laugh (if anyone was laughing that way, it was muffled by the rest of them). Rather, he laughed like he had just been told a good joke. Jon Snow stood there, looking rather uncomfortable. There was a redness coloring his cheeks. If she was the cause of it, Rhaenys would say that he was blushing. But now, she could see that it was from embarrassment.
"A good jest, a good jest, Lord Snow," Aegon said to him. "But come now, I would lock swords with the best in Winterfell."
"I must refuse, your Highness, for I am a bastard," he replied, keeping his head bowed slightly.
"Come, Lord Snow, spar against me."
"I cannot." Lord Tarly's boy still stood by him, as did the other three. Some of the northerners began making their way to his side.
Irritation flashed in Aegon's eyes. "I could order you to the field."
"And I would be forced to disobey you."
"Why? Why would you be forced to disobey me? I will hold nothing against you if you are victorious. In fact, I welcome it. Now come, take up a sword against me." He flung his arms wide, as if he meant to welcome an embrace.
But Jon Snow did not move from where he stood. "I cannot, your Highness."
"Why?" he demanded once more lowering his arms, his face a tight expression of irritation and anger at being refused.
The bastard did not look fearful at his anger, only respectful. "Bastards cannot bruise royalty, only trueborns." At those words, the yard fell silent once more.
Rhaenys heard them and knew at once that he was right. Aegon might have removed the sanctions against the royal family but he did not remove that law from play. He must have known that on some level for he had only sparred against the trueborn. Now he had been called out on it and he could not act against it.
By now, most of the northerners were by Jon Snow's side. The silence in the yard dragged on. "Forgive me, Prince Aegon, I have disrupted the air," he said to Aegon, bowing his head briefly in apology. "I will leave."
He turned his back to the yard so he could go into the castle proper. "It seems the bastard remembered his place and manners after all," Obara said loudly. "I, for one, am amazed that frozen hellhole could spawn such a thing." She and her sisters laughed loudly at her jape but the rest of the yard did not.
When their laughter finally died away and they looked to see why everyone else did not join them, they found that the northerners were staring at them with anger (and Quentyn with disgust). But none were so angry than Jon Snow. He stalked towards Obara, his eyes shining and hard, making them look more like sharp steel then mystifying smoke. Rhaenys's breath was caught in her throat and she felt a chill that quickly led to a warmth that made her beginning to feel wet. Watching him now, he looked more animalistic than man, like a wolf bearing down on its prey.
Obara must've felt the same thing but didn't back down. She stared at him with condescension in her stance and eyes. He came to a stop before her. "That 'frozen hellhole' is named Winterfell and it is my home," he told her in a voice tight with anger. But he wasn't shouting like she would have when she was angry. "Treat it with the respect and courtesy it deserves or I will take that spear of yours and shove it down your throat."
She just barked out another laugh. "Bold of you to insult and threaten a cousin to the royal family. But I think it's only boldness that comes from stupidity."
"You are a bastard, same as me," he said, cutting across her laughter like ice over water. "I do not speak ill of your home, extend me the same courtesy."
"Why should I? You look like you can barely hold a sword. 'The best in Winterfell?'" she repeated mockingly. "Ha! Don't make me laugh!"
A chorus of howls erupted from the godswood, five voices strong. It washed over everyone, filling their ears and traveling down right into their bones. It was an eerie sound that felt no less dangerous than the promise in Jon Snow's eyes. "I won't make you laugh," he told Obara as the howling faded away. "But I will make you regret ever opening your mouth." Having said his part, he turned and left.
Everyone watched him leave the yard to go into the courtyard. While the Pack had stayed in their place, his own little group followed him. Quentyn was the left to leave, after throwing one last look of disgust at his cousin. "My, my," Arianne said, her voice taking on an amused tone that also shined with interest. "I think I will enjoy this game, Rhae." Rhaenys looked at her cousin and saw the look she had in her eyes when she wanted a man.
"I thought that you would not be joining," she replied.
"I never said that. But that was quite the display, wouldn't you say? It's seems the bastard is a proper wolf after all. I will enjoy making him howl."
"Not if I get him first, coz," she thought to herself. She would not lose this game.
"Did you see the way Quentyn looked at us?" Tyene asked, her voice angry and her eyes the same.
"Aye, I did," Nymeria growled, her hand flexing as if to remind her that he was her cousin and blood. "That boy needs to remember to remember where his loyalty lies and who his family is." Obara did not answer to her sister's words, not audibly at least. Her face was red with angry and fury. She nodded in agreement and clenched her spear tighter.
"And you three need to remember your places and courtesies," Jocelyn said sharply. "That's my home too. We do not insult Dorne or Sunspear in the North or here at Riverrun. You should do the same to us."
Nym looked like she was about to say something in reply but Rhaenys stepped in before she could. "Joce has the right of it, you three. I do not care if you are Uncle Oberyn's daughters. Learn restraint or I will have my mother send you back to Dorne when we reach King's Landing."
They scowled at her but said nothing out loud. Obara was the first to leave and her sisters followed. Arianne went after them after a delayed second. "Thank you, Rhaenys," Jocelyn said to her, her voice grateful.
"Think nothing of it," she said back as she watched her brother spar with another. As she watched her brother spar, she could not help but find it ironic that her friend would defend Winterfell when she uttered the same words as Obara and earned a slap across the face from her mother.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
At this point, Jon is feeling a little more than uncomfortable about all the attention he's getting. It's mostly the reason why he refused the spar. He didn't come to Riverrun to stand out. It's the home of Catelyn; the last thing he would want is to stand out. Of course, that doesn't mean he wouldn't have his moments, like his warning to Obara.
If you're wondering why Quentyn is hanging around Jon, I thought it would be ironic and interesting to see what would happen if a Martell joined his own little Pack (which is what it's forming out to be). But I will confess that I got the inspiration from the story Rule Them All by the author BenSky_VestaraKhai, if I'm reading what he plans to go with the story. I encourage you to read it as it is interesting. The only problem is that the author has a habit of saying when the next date for uploading a chapter is and not following through.
I'll see you all next chapter!