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.

21. Chapter 21

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

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 21: Rhaenys

"Talking"

"Thinking"

(Location: Riverrun)

While the maester tended to the more injured of the group (especially the children), Rhaenys was left outside with Jon Snow. They did not sit together, but on opposite sides of the door to the maester's chambers. It had been something he had insisted on, all the while eyeing Jon Snow like he was evil and just hiding it.

Jon Snow did not say anything as they waited. He just sat there on the bench, leaning against the wall. Rhaenys could not see how he would be able to do it. Her back was straight, just like her lessons had taught her to do. She could barely feel the wall but what she did feel felt rather chilly and rough, nothing like the walls in the Red Keep.

But then he would never have felt the stones of the Red Keep. He had only lived in Winterfell. She looked at him again. He did not look at her, not even to peek a look when he thought that she wasn't looking. It was irritating. She wondered if she was going to have to act coy to get attention. Lady Dayne's words came back to her. She was to forget all that she knew when it came to seducing a man. She was going to have to be honest.

It was a concept that actually made her nervous. But still, she pressed forward. "Are you well?" she asked him, breaking the silence between them.

"I am," he answered. He didn't look her way when he spoke, keeping his eyes forward.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, your Highness. The maester was right to take in the others first."

"And you don't know who it was."

He shook his head. "The fight had already started. I simply joined the fight."

"With two boys," she added.

"They followed. I did not tell them to but they did," was all he said. But he said with a hint of pride in his voice.

It irritated her a little bit. "And they fought," she said to him, "Two little boys fighting against men. That is not right."

"They were not told to fight," he told her. "But they did. Tommen was ferocious." He sound a little surprised as he said those words but it was still proud.

"Did your wolf attack as well?" If it had, it was possible the other party would try to use that against him, claiming it to be a vicious animal.

But Jon Dualfang shook his head. "No, Ghost did not attack them."

She was a little surprised at that. "He didn't? I would have thought that the sight of his master being attacked would have roused him to action."

"He would have, if it had become serious and deadly."

"You sound so sure."

He finally looked at her. "When they were found as pups, Lord Stark told each of us that it would be to us to raise them, feed them, and train them. They would not attack anyone needlessly. We have trained them to do that. It is because of that I know Ghost did not join the fight, not unless he knew that my life was in danger."

She idly wondered for a moment if she had a dragon if it would act in the same way. She didn't pay much attention to it. The dragons had long since died out. There were much more important things to be concerned about. "You were not at the joust," she said to him. "It was disappointing not to see you compete." She hadn't been alone in that state of mind. The other ladies playing the game had looked just disappointed and irritated about his not being there too.

"I'm not one for the lance," he told her. "That is more for Robb."

It was simplistic the way he said it. But she didn't see it like that. Even if he didn't have as much skill in the joust as his trueborn sibling, it shouldn't have meant it he didn't join. She stopped herself before she went too far. She had to keep it simple. "Then you shall be pleased to know that he has advanced to the next round of the joust."

A small smile tugged at his lips. "That's good to hear. He must be pleased."

"He was." But she didn't care about what Robb Stark felt. "Will you attend to the archery contest this afternoon?"

"No, that would be Theon's skill." He frowned. "I hold hope that one of the Pack, perhaps Morgan, will finally be able to beat him. But it's not a high hope."

"You don't have confidence in your own friends?"

"When it comes to wielding a bow with a quiver full of arrow, in Winterfell Theon Greyjoy is the best." He fell silent for a moment. "Don't tell him I said this, but he might also be the best at this tourney."

She couldn't help but giggle at his words. It was a little amusing to see him grudgingly admit to someone else's skill. He fell silent once more and the giggles died away in her throat. "I am not laughing at you, Jon Snow," she assured. "It's just that I have never been aware of someone freely admitting that another is better at something than they are."

"It's the truth," he told her bluntly.

And that was the crux of it. She had grown up in King's Landing. It was rare to hear the truth from a person outside of the family. "Will you be joining the singing contest this night?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No, I won't be."

That was surprising. She remembered his singing, how the words had pressed against her skin like the trailing fingers of a lover, making her shiver with each touch. She found herself lost in the song and she knew that if she had been caught, she wouldn't have resisted. But what he was saying now? She hadn't expected it. "Why are you not? Every bard who is here will be joining," she told him. "I believe that my father might even sing against the winner."

"In that case, I really should not be a part of it." He made it sound like it was a jape but there was a slight bitterness to it. "After all, what would a bastard with only a voice be against the king who is known for his voice and his lyre?"

She looked at him and again, he did not look at her in return. She had never met someone who was adamant in refusing the chance to take glory in victory. "So you will not even try?"

"Your Highness, I cannot play an instrument. The singing contest requires the participants to be able to both play an instrument and sing."

"Where does it say that?" she demanded.

"It is the rules."

"It is ridiculous."

"I did not make them."

The door opened and the maester stepped out. They both stood up but Rhaenys was the one who spoke. "How are they, Maester Vyman?"

"They are fine," he answered. "No bones were broken. The Tarly boy lost some blood but not enough to be life-endangering. They have some bandages but that is the most of it."

"May I speak to my cousin then?"

"You may."

She stood up and so did Jon Snow. But while she went for the door, he walked away. "Where are you going?" she asked him.

He stopped and looked back. "They are well. I have no business here."

"You are hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine."

She could see the injuries he had. To hear him dismiss it made her angry. "You are not fine, Jon Snow. You are injured."

"They are minor. The maester has attended to the ones who needed tending to. Good day to you, Princess."

She looked to the maester but saw his eyes were cool. She knew just from that look that he would not give the same treatment he had given the others to Jon Snow, all because he was a bastard. No, she realized that it was more than that. He wasn't any bastard. He was the bastard of Lord Stark and this was Lady Stark's home. They were probably well-aware of what she felt when it came to him and chose to respond as such.

She opened her mouth to say something but he was already gone from sight. She closed the mouth and glared somewhat at the corridor he had vanished into. He had a tendency to do that, it seemed. "You wished to see your cousin, Princess?" the maester asked her.

She turned and looked at him, giving him the same cool look that he had. "Yes, I would." She brushed past him without another word spoken.

---

She had gotten the full story from Quentyn. Once she had, she was furious. The Redwyne twins had never a fond thing for her to think on but now, they were quickly becoming undesirable. She was going to go straight to her parents, tell them the story of they had attacked Samwell Tarly and in the process harmed her cousin, and demand that they leave.

But strangely enough, both Quentyn and Samwell did not want her to do that. Quentyn, in his quiet voice that seemed to be losing its nervousness, told her that to do so would cause strife amongst the nobles at the tourney. He also made mention that Aegon would probably try to use it to get rid of Margaery and the rest of the Tyrells.

When she was pleaded to by Samwell Tarly not to tell the king, she demanded why he would want that. After all, he had been the one who had been attacked. He told her that it would get back to his father and it would make him even more displeased with him. She had met Randyll Tarly before. She had thought his gruff nature was just because he was a man for the battlefield, not the court. But seeing his son, she grew an uncertain feeling that their relationship was not amicable. So she did as she was asked and held her tongue.

Now, she sat in the stands for the archery contest and her mouth was agape, showing her tongue to anyone who would be bothered to look her way. Her cousin had entered the contest and had progressed to the last round, just like she had expected Sarella to do. She was a natural with a bow. But in spite of what she had been told, Theon Greyjoy was able to hold his own against her. Where other men had looked indignant and enraged that they had lost to a girl (and a Dornish bastard at that), the heir to the Iron Islands had not reacted. He had stood his ground, his face calm.

Now, at the final round, the two of them stood waiting. The only person who stood with them was an archer from the Dornish Marches. They waited with their bows at their sides, arrows in their hands. Everyone in the stands waited with anticipation. "Nock your arrows!" the herald commanded and they did. "Raise your bows and draw!"

Sarella looked determined as she aimed her arrow. At the call, she released the string and the arrow flew at the target. It struck plum in the center, like Rhaenys knew that it would. Sarella smiled in victory as she looked at the marcher's arrow and saw that it was just off-center. But then the smile faded away as she saw that Theon's arrow had struck center, just like hers.

Applause rang out in the yard as the marcher left. The ironmen seemed to be a bit less enthusiastic about it than Rhaenys would have thought them to be. Their reactions all seemed to be based on their captain, who just watched with a look of barely held interest. Rhaenys had met Asha Greyjoy and it seemed that she did not take any joy from things she could not insult or threaten.

The herald went to the targets and examined them closely. When he was done, he walked back and declared, "They have both struck center! Therefore, Theon Greyjoy and Sarella Sand will shoot again!"

This was something new for her cousin. Rhaenys knew that Sarella won every archery contest she had joined. "What do you think, Mya?" she asked her handmaiden sitting next to her but keeping her eyes on the field. "Do you think my cousin will win?"

Mya was silent for a moment, watching the field too. "Would you have me speak honestly, your Highness?" she asked in return, her finger idly tracing the bracer on her arm.

"Is there any other way of speaking?"

"Many."

That was true, she could admit to that. "Yes, I would like to hear your honest answer." The arrows were removed from the targets but the holes stayed.

She continued to watch as the contestants drew and nocked arrows again. "I think your cousin is going to have a challenge. And I think it might do her some good."

It was a good thing that the rest of her cousins were not sitting beside her. Arianne had left when she told her about Quentyn and Sarella's eldest sisters followed. The remaining snakes sat with their mother and father, in a different stand. The girls seemed to be trying to decide who to cheer for. They should cheer for their sister, as was right.

Theon and Sarella lifted their bows and fired again. The arrows again struck the center. So they fired again and again the arrows struck the same. "I do not think I have ever seen something like this," Rhaenys said in half-wonder.

But Mya was not of the same mind. "It is going to get boring." Other people in the stands were of the same mind, getting up to leave.

As the herald called them to nock their arrows, Theon looked up to the royal stand. "Your Grace!" he called out.

All eyes fell on him and then on Rhaenys' father. "Yes, Lord Theon?" the king replied.

He looked back to the targets. "This is getting nowhere," he proclaimed. "Everyone is getting bored, even me."

"Are you surrendering?" Sarella looked almost hopeful at that question.

But he just smiled instead. "If I did that, there is no doubt in my mind that my sister and her men would make me regret it, your Grace." Both Rhaenys and Mya looked to where the ironmen sat and saw that they would do just that. "No, I will not surrender. I just wish to offer something."

"What would that be?"

"That we change this into something more interesting." He looked back at the targets, the holes where their arrows had been obvious. "Neither of us will win this way. We must change it to determine the victor."

"Your idea is intriguing, Lord Greyjoy," King Rhaegar conceded. "How would you change it?"

His smile turned into a smirk. "We sit at the point where two rivers become one, your Grace. There is water a plenty for boats to sail on. We continue this contest on the water, firing our arrows from the boats."

Rhaenys took note of her cousin. She saw that Sarella's face had blanched. She had only fired her bow on solid ground, nothing else. Theon Greyjoy made it sound like he had the experience. She looked to her father. He looked like he was thinking on it. "Very well, my lord," he finally said. "We will accept your suggestion. But," he raised his hand and waved it at the setting sun, "on the morrow. The hour is growing late and now it is the time for stories and songs."

Theon said nothing back, only nodding his head in acknowledgement. The stands began to empty. He walked away, not to the ironmen but rather to the Pack. Soon, they had engulfed him and moved away from the grounds, heading to the castle like everyone else. Rhaenys went to her cousin. "You did well, Sarella."

"Not well enough," she replied, staring at the targets.

She looked too. The arrows were being removed. "You did not lose."

"I did not win either." She turned her head to look at where her competitor had vanished to.

Rhaenys followed her gaze. "Do you really think that he will be able to win against you?"

She snorted in derision. "Of course not," she declared.

"Then there is nothing to worry about." She snaked her arm around her shoulder. "Come. Put away your bow for now. My father is right. It's time to listen to the singers."

"And to mock the horrible ones," her Sand Snake cousin added.

She giggled a little. "Well, yes, there is that." Together, they walked over to her uncle.

"And what has you two smiling like this?" asked Oberyn as he met them with Ellaria and their children.

"Nothing much, uncle," Rhaenys told him. "Just thinking of what will happen tonight with the contest of singers."

He must've known what her smile truly meant because he started to smile the same way. "Ah, yes. It will truly be entertaining to watch men and women try and fail to sing before the crowds tonight. I would perform myself but I've been told that my songs are too precocious for tonight."

"Father, when has that ever stopped you before?" Sarella asked him, mockingly tilting her head like she didn't understand.

Ellaria laughed. "He can't refuse a command from his dear sister."

He held his hands in surrender. "Aye, it is a painful truth. But still, it will be amusing to watch the spectacle tonight." They started to leave the stands, only to stop when someone stood in their way. "Lord Stannis, what an unexpected pleasure," said Oberyn glibly. They started walk away, only to have their impeded by Lord Stannis.

Rhaenys could hear her handmaiden go still behind her. "My Lord Baratheon," she said to the man politely.

"Your Highness," he replied, choosing to look at her and no one else.

"Ah, Stannis Baratheon," her uncle said in a jovial manner that was thinly layered over a tone of mockery. "What is that the Lord of Storm's End requires of us?"

"Nothing from you, Prince Oberyn," he replied bluntly. His eyes fell on his niece. "Mya, you will follow me."

"And why would she do that?" the Red Viper asked before Mya took a single step.

He glared at Rhaenys' uncle. They could hear his teeth grinding. "It does not concern you."

"But it does me," Rhaenys spoke, getting his attention. "You are ordering my handmaiden away from me, Lord Stannis."

"Do you have need of her now?"

"No."

"Then she will come with me."

She was beginning to get angry with the man. How dare he order someone that was sworn to her services? Mya was hers, not his. "Lord Baratheon, she is my handmaiden. I will know what it is you need of her before she goes anywhere."

He looked as annoyed as she felt but she didn't care about that. "Your Highness," Mya said quietly behind her, a sharp jolt against her senses, bringing her out of the anger. "There is no need for you to be concerned. I'm sure that Lord Stannis has need of me for a reason." She stepped past her and went to her uncle, curtseying before him. "My lord, what is it you require of me?"

"My daughter has asked me a question that has a story to it. I wish to know everything about what happened before I give her an answer, from the both of you," he told her, speaking like a commander to his soldier.

She only bowed her head. "Of course, my lord," she told him. She looked back at Rhaenys. "Your Highness, will you be able to excuse me for an hour or so?"

As much as she wanted to say no, Rhaenys could see that Mya's mind was already made up. That was something that not many people knew about her handmaiden. If she chose to do something, she was going to do it.

---

Much like they had predicted, the contest during the feast was full of people who could not sing. They might thought they did but they either had too high of an opinion of themselves or couldn't hear themselves when they sang. Rhaenys knew how to hide a smile and not to laugh too loudly at the failures. The other people in the hall would be able to do that just fine.

But for those who could sing and stood to sing before others, that was where her attention was paid. Some didn't have much or were inexperienced. The singers that weren't either showed their skills for their voices confidently. Rhaenys listened to them all and applauded when they deserved. But even as she listened, her eyes found Jon Snow. He sat at the table full of Northerners, far back enough to disappear to the casual eye. He seemed to be doing what he had said to her. He would not join the competition. Whenever a singer was done and the next one came to face the people, he stayed put.

The singer who was currently trying to entertain the people finished and only received polite clapping for his song. His voice was only passable and there were only so many times Rhaenys could hear the Rains of Castamere. Someone from the Northern table stood and walked to the dais. Her eyes settled on the person and saw that it was Domeric Bolton. He held his harp in his hands in the way that showed he knew how to use it. "What song are you going to play for us, Lord Domeric?" the king asked him.

"An old one, your Grace," he replied. "One that comes with history tied to it."

"Many songs do."

"That is true. This song is about Symeon Star-Eyes." He looked to the people. "We have all heard songs Symeon Star-Eyes. Some have even claimed that he was a knight and possibly even a member of the Kingsguard. But the truth of this legendary warrior was that he was one of the First Men. During the Thousand Years War between the King of Winter and the Barrow King, Symeon served House Stark and fought beneath their banner. In his service, he forged a bond of companionship with a young warrior.

"When the men of the Barrow King had surrounded the Stark men, they took refuge in a forested hill. After a day full of fighting, they repelled the enemy but they were still surrounded. As night fell and both sides rested, the young warrior confessed to Star-Eyes that he was afraid to die, to not see his family or the girl that he loved again. When he finally fell asleep, Symeon and the other veteran warriors found a heart tree. There, Symeon offered a prayer to the old gods." He readied his fingers. "This is the prayer he gave."

He began strumming and the notes all but fell out from his harp. The music he played was different from the few Northern songs she had heard since coming to Riverrun. This wasn't loud and boisterous, nor was it low and seductive. This song was more melancholic and sad. It became even more obvious when he began to sing.

Gods to me
Hear my prayer
In my need
You have always been there

He is young
He's afraid
Let him rest
Heaven blessed.
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.

He's like the son I might have known
If God had granted me a son.
The summers die
One by one
How soon they fly
On and on
And I am old
And will be gone.

Bring him peace
Bring him joy
He is young
He is only a boy

You can take
You can give
Let him be
Let him live
If I die, let me die
Let him live
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home.

As he ended the song, silence reigned in the hall. Rhaenys felt something wet on her cheeks and she quickly realized that it was tears. There were quite a few tears on the faces of people. She couldn't fault them for it. The song had moved her too. It was so sad and yet hopeful too. Even her father looked sad. Her mother had tears forming at the corner of her eyes. But she wiped them away and said, "You have a beautiful voice, Lord Domeric. I believe I can speak for us all when I say that you will continue in the competition."

Her decision broke the silence and the hall erupted with applause. The heir to House Bolton bowed his head in recognition to it all. "Thank you," he said as the applause died down.

As he started back to his seat, a voice shouted out, "What happened the next morning?"

He stopped to look. Rhaenys didn't know if he saw the person who spoke, but he answered all the same. "The two forces clashed once more. In that battle, a weak spot occurred in the Barrow King's lines. The Stark men took full advantage of it. They broke through the lines and escaped. But that escape only happened when Symeon and the other old men stood against the men of the Barrow King, holding them off and paying with their lives."

Cries and protests echoed in the hall. "What's the point of complaining about it?" Rhaenys asked. The past was the past. There was nothing they could do to change it.

"And the warrior?" someone else called out.

Domeric Bolton replied, "He went back to his home, in Winterfell. In time, he took his father's throne and became the King of Winter. He turned the tide in the war but it was his son who ended it, slaying the last Barrow King and taking his daughter to wife."

Rhaenys did not know this. It was not something that her tutors and septas had taught her. Then again, they did not focus much on the North. As Domeric walked back to his seat, her eyes found Jon Snow again. He was talking to his half-brother and from the looks of it, the talk was not pleasant. Robb Stark seemed insistent but Jon's face remained stubborn and defiant. He shook his head repeatedly as his trueborn brother kept talking.

"Does he want Jon to sing?" she wondered. She hoped that he would but it seemed that he would not move. His eyes would dart over to where Lady Catelyn sat. The Stark matriarch was not looking back but the way he moved his eyes at her made all clear to Rhaenys. It irritated her and made her angry. It seemed like the only way they would be able to get Jon Dualfang to do anything in this tourney was to get rid of Lady Stark. Of course, she knew that would be impossible. This was Lady Catelyn's birthplace. She had a better chance of kidnapping Jon then getting her out of the castle.

"What are you thinking, your Highness?" Mya asked from behind her.

She didn't look back at her handmaiden. "What do you mean by that, Mya?"

"You have your planning look on your face."

"I do not have a planning look."

"Princess, the last time I saw that look was the same time mischief usually comes in the Red Keep. For instances, that time those pies from the kitchen vanished with the blame somehow being pointed at the visiting Reach delegation."

She rolled her eyes. "Mya, I was eight."

"Your Grace!" someone called out. All eyes fell to her father. "Please, sing a song for us!"

Before anyone else could agree, he spoke, "I will save my songs for the end of this competition. You all know my skill with the harp. This is not my night to show it to you all. No, that is for the singers who have performed tonight. Now please, eat and enjoy yourselves. Let the judges decides who have won this round of singing."

He sat back down and the feast went on. Rhaenys found her eyes looking at Jon Snow. He was leaving the feast. She wondered why since it was so early. Then she saw the eldest Stark carrying the youngest and that the bastard followed. Robb Stark spoke insistently but she could no longer see Jon's expression. Within a minute, they were gone from her sight, lost in the smoke emitting from the fires.

End

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

I don't know if an archery contest has ever been done out in water. I think it would add a bit of a challenge. Not only are the targets bobbing in the water, you also have to be sure of your balance on the boat (I say boat because shooting from dry land seems half-done), the effect of the wind on the water, just how fast its making the boat, and other such stuff. Of course, that was probably what Theon was thinking of when he suggested it.

One of the things I love about the vagueness of Westeros' history is that you can take it and make it your own. There a chapter for The Ghost of the North where I could do the same thing. It would've been from Willas Tyrell's view when he was at the Wall serving. He met and talked with the Ghost and during the conversation the Ghost would reveal a shocking truth: he was Garth Greenhand. All the supposed children of Garth would turn out to be orphans the Ghost took in and raised. House Gardener would only come to be because the first orphan he took would take control of the garden the Ghost had raised them in when he left, kicking the others out. The orphan would build a fortress around the garden to keep the others out and since the garden was on a hill, it was a high garden. You can guess what came from that.

There's was a bit more to the chapter, like the Ghost telling Willas the story to ease his mind about the Tyrells holding Highgarden and showing how history can be changed. But you get my point. The vagueness leaves a lot of room for interpretation.

And yes, that was Bring Him Home from Les Miserable. I found it to be apt song for the story. I will also admit to changing the first line. I did that because the last time I checked, the Old Gods weren't specifically gods of the air but of the earth. I had to find something that kept the flow of the song and that could work with what I was trying to do. That's not an easy thing to do when you're trying to keep it simple.

Also, on a side note, having now described the chapter of Willas, how many of you would like me to write it and post it to the story?

I'll see you all next chapter!