Another dragon, another wolf, another stag Chapter 24, an a song of ice and fire fanfic

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

Another dragon, another wolf, another stag

Chapter 24: Jon

"Talking"

"Thinking"

(Location: Riverrun)

Jon Snow watched from the grounds as the melee raged on. Sam, Edd, and Quentyn were beside him. They were all cheering for their own favorite person in the melee. Jon could see Jack Mormont make steady progress through any and all of the fighters who came at him. "Come on, Jack!" he called out.

"Your friend seems to be doing well," Quentyn said to him.

"Aye, he is. Jack's a terror with an axe in his hand. He does Lord Jorah proud."

"And his mother is fraught with worry, I'm sure," Edd added.

Jon froze at those words. It was a subject that the Pack never brought up. "She died giving birth to him," he told Edd. "If there was a woman who raised him, it was his Aunt Maege."

"Ah, I see. Well, there I go again, making things go bad."

"Edd, shouldn't you be rooting for your knight?" Sam asked him. They had never met the knight he was squiring for but he always seemed to have a lot of time to be with them.

"There's no point in doing so," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "He was defeated within the opening minutes."

"Oh. Did we miss it?" He looked back at the field, like he was trying to see what he was just told.

"I don't think so," Quentyn said with a frown. "Was he the one who charged right at my uncle? Grey plate armor with a dark surcoat?"

"Yes, that would've been him."

"I missed that," Jon said. He had kept his focus on the Northern group. When the fighting began, they had banded together, back brother to back brother, and fought the other men. The group had been whittled away but there was still some of them left.

"You didn't miss much," Edd told him glumly. "He ran right at Ser Lewyn and got brained by a spear's butt for his trouble."

"Ouch."

"That would be putting it mildly."

Quentyn kept his eyes to the field. "It's hard to blame Edd's knight to be defeated so easily. There are a lot of knights who are being beaten today. And it's not only my uncle out there."

Jon knew what he meant by those words. They all did. All seven of the Kingsguard knights were out in the melee. It was a sight that he had never thought he would see. He wondered what it was the king said that convinced to take the field when they were supposed to protect him. He looked to the royal stand and saw only the Hound there amongst the Targaryens. He stood behind the Dowager Queen and Princess Daenerys but it was clear that he was there for them all.

Still, to see the king's seven in the field was an awe-inspiring sight. They seemed to work with perfect cohesion. They never strayed far from each other, always able to come to one's aide if it was needed. Anyone who tried to fight one would quickly find themselves against two or more and were quickly defeated.

"Jon! Jon!" Sam said, shaking his shoulder.

"What?" he asked, turning his attention back to the field. He saw what his friend had seen quickly. Viserys and Prince Aegon were amongst the fighters, their backs to each other. The prince held a sword and shield but Viserys wielded a great sword that was easily the size of him. It had been a gift from House Umber for his nameday two years past. They stood a ways away from the Kingsguard. That was probably something Viserys had done. The two dragons held their own in the field, beating back any who dared try to attack them.

Jon Snow watched Loras Tyrell attack Prince Aegon. The swords moved quickly, striking each other and the shields. The Knight of Flowers seemed determined to defeat the Prince of Dragonstone. But he was so focused that when Viserys swapped places with his nephew, the elder Targaryen surprised the Tyrell and he was made short work. The great sword battered away the shield, knocked the sword out from his hand, and sent him to the ground. He didn't get up and the two dragons stepped away from his prone body.

"Uh, Jon?" said Edd.

"What?" he said. He was still keeping his eyes on the field. Jack was making his way through the other combatants with Asher and Morgan at his sides.

"I don't want you to look right now, but it seems like a lot of the ladies are glaring at you like you are the Stranger amongst us."

It was a strange thing to hear. It prompted Jon to look. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and squeezed almost painfully tight. He looked at who had the hand and saw it was Edd. "What are you doing?"

"What did I just tell you?"

He knew what he had said. It just didn't make any sense to him. "How am I supposed to see their looks if I don't look myself?" he asked Edd.

"You don't."

"Jon, just look slowly," Quentyn told him.

"Does nobody listen to me?" Edd asked no one in particular.

Jon did as the prince told him. He tried to look slowly but he didn't know how to look to the edge of his sight without turning his head. If he moved his head slowly, he might able to do it. Edd's hand didn't get any tighter, so it must mean that he was doing it right. It did seem like that every lady in sight was staring at him like it was he was the foulest thing that had ever walked the Seven Kingdoms. It was the oddest thing.

"What have I done to earn such hatred?" he asked himself. It was even odder since they seem to be the same women who try to talk to him. Perhaps it had something to do with that. He wished that Ghost was by his side. The wolves were always around him now, even more than before.

A sudden roar came from the field, snapping his eyes back to it. The roar came from Ser Jaime and it was in the form of a single word. "Wench!" he cried as he started forward, away from Mark Ryswell.

"Wench?" thought Jon. Why would he say something like that? There wasn't a woman in the yard, was there? He looked to the field and didn't see any women there. If the elder Sand Snakes were still at Riverrun, they would be there. But they weren't and he didn't see anyone that looked like a woman.

But then Jaime Lannister attacked a tall warrior who had just dispatched a knight of House Frey. Their swords met with a clash that seemed to echo in the air. "I've been looking forward to this, wench!" he said over the din.

Jon Snow could not believe his eyes. "That's a woman?" he asked the others. It didn't look like it was a woman.

"It might be?" Sam offered. "Quentyn, do you know?"

"Why do you ask me?" he asked.

He couldn't look the Dornish prince in the eye. "W-well, there are your cousins. I-I thought that you would know a woman fighting would look like."

"Not in full plate. The Snakes were lighter armor than that."

"She's holding her own against the Kingslayer," Jon told them. It was something truly amazing to watch. Then Ser Mark joined them and fought beside the Kingslayer. He was less aggressive than Ser Jaime and the Kingslayer did not seem to want him there. He fought harder against Lady Brienne than Ser Ryswell, almost pushing past him in order to fight her. The odds should have been against her but she held her own against two of the Kingsguard. She used Ser Jaime's aggression against him, getting past his shield and knocking his sword from his hand. She pushed against him to reach Ser Mark, sending him to the ground. The two of them exchanged sword strikes for what seemed a long time. But it was probably only a minute or two before she disarmed him too and knocking him to the ground.

"Fucking hell," Edd swore. He wasn't even melancholic when he uttered the words.

Sam was just as surprised. "By the gods, she did it."

"She's not done yet," Jon Snow told them. She was fighting against a man of the Reach, but it was clear to him that she was looking for something, or someone.

Ser Lewyn and Ser Whent found her next and she attacked them without hesitation. Jon could not look away and it seemed that no one else could either. The rest of the melee seemed to lose their importance as everyone watched her fight two Kingsguard. Unlike the last two, both Ser Lewyn and Ser Whent were able to fight in coordination. If one of them pressed forward, the other would protect his side. But Lady Brienne continued to hold her own against them both. She would attack the attacker for a moment to get past his defense and then attack the defender, pushing him away from the other. She defeated Ser Whent but it cost the shield she carried when Ser Lewyn drove his spear against it. The wood clasped around it and he pulled it off.

She staggered after but she pushed through with her own momentum and crashed into the Dornish knight, knocking him to the ground. She rolled off and struck the spear from his hand. "Yield, ser!" she cried out, holding her sword out him.

He didn't look angry. He looked like he had enjoyed the combat. "I yield, my lady!" he said with a laugh. "You've some skill to defeat four of us. Shall we see if you can hold your own against the three greatest of the Kingsguard?"

She turned around and saw, just as the rest of the grounds saw, Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur, and Ser Barristan the Bold standing before her with their weapons draw. At this point, the rest of the melee combatants stopped and watched what was about to happen. Jon never thought that he would be witnessing something like this. "Get them!" he heard Arya shout out. One quick look to the Stark stand showed his little at the rail, cheering the loudest for Lady Brienne.

"I don't think that she's going to last against them," Edd remarked from beside Jon.

It was a comment that was surprising to the bastard. He looked to his friend. "How can you say that?"

"Look at her, Jon. Fighting the first four Kingsguard took a lot out of her. If she goes up the last three, she'll lose what's left of her strength and fall."

He didn't want to believe it but he looked at her and saw it too. She was beginning to shake in the legs. She had no shield and against the three of them, it would be tantamount to suicide. Probably the best thing she could do at that moment was yield. But Jon knew that she wouldn't. He didn't see her eyes to know that there was a fire in them. He felt the same when he sparred against Ser Arthur. She wanted to prove herself against them.

When she swung her sword into a ready position, he wasn't surprised. The Kingsguard knights did not attack her on. They spread out around her, trapping her in the form of a triangle. She turned in place, trying to watch them all. They didn't move against her. They stood there, watching her. She kept turning and turning, watching them. She gave a loud cry and attacked the Lord Commander.

He met her sword with his own. Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan approached her from behind. She twisted away so all four swords would clash together. She stepped away so hers would be free. She suddenly dropped down and swung her sword underneath theirs, going for their torsos. She was able to hit a glancing blow on Ser Arthur before they broke the lock and faced her again. She came up in a spin, twisting her sword up into a strike from above. It caught Ser Barristan's sword against the metal, forcing down and leaving him open.

She pressed the attack but Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur halted her advance. They kept up their attack, forcing her away from Ser Barristan. He was able to recover his position and joined their attack. It lasted for another two minutes but to Jon, those minutes lasted longer. He watched her try to hold her own against them but she was getting more tired as it dragged on.

It ended as he had expected. Lady Brienne had fallen to her knee, her helmet knocked off her head, and their swords were poised to stab her through. For a second, nothing happened on the field. "That move you did," Ser Gerold said to her, "That spinning strike, there's only one person I know of who knew it. Who taught it to you, my lady?"

She looked up at him. She seemed to be surprised that the Lord Commander spoke to her. She found her voice and said, "My father, ser."

"Name him."

"Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar and Lord of Tarth," she declared.

The White Bull did not look surprise at the name. "And he learned it from his grandfather, no doubt."

"So he said."

He looked to Ser Barristan and then at Ser Arthur. What he did next was a surprise. He lowered his sword, stepped away from Lady Brienne, and looked to the king. "Your Grace. I yield."

"As do I," Ser Barristan said too.

Ser Arthur lowered his sword. "I yield as well."

Jon Snow was thunderstruck and he saw that everyone else was too. But none were so shocked than Brienne. She stared at the three Kingsguard with disbelief shining through her eyes. Jon looked to the royal stand as the king rose. "Why do you yield, Lord Commander?" he asked.

"I wish to see how the descendent of Ser Duncan the Tall fares."

Jon wasn't the only one who stared as the three Kingsguard left the field and Lady Brienne got back to her feet. He was still trying to understand the idea that Ser Duncan the Tall had had children. How was that possible? He had been one of the Kingsguard. They couldn't marry or hold lands. "How is this possible?" he asked the others.

"Perhaps Ser Duncan married into House Tarth?" Sam offered up as a suggestion.

"But how did he end up in the Kingsguard?"

Edd had the answer. "His wife must have died," he told them all, "Most likely in childbirth." They watched Lady Brienne got back to her feet. She lifted her sword out of the ground and looked at the remaining combatants.

Quentyn nodded in agreement. "He has the right of it. If I was to guess, I would that Ser Duncan's goodbrother or goodfather kept the child and told him that since she was dead he had no ties to their family before telling him to get out."

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked him.

He watched as one of the melee combatants charged at Lady Brienne with a shout, raising his sword up high. "It's common in Dornish love stories." His voice was distant and distracted. Jon couldn't doubt him. He too was watching Lady Brienne fight against the rest. Before long, both Jack Mormont and Ser Daemon Sand fought their way to her side and fought alongside her. Both Prince Aegon and Viserys looked eager to test themselves against her. He could see the surprise in her eyes at such a thing but she didn't stop. She simply raised her sword and continued to fight.

That night, after the melee and another round of jousting, came the last night of the singing competition. As Jon Snow had thought, Domeric had held his own against other bards and singers. Now he stood as one of the two finalists before the king. The other finalist, a man from the Stormlands, played first. Jon Snow thought that he was passable but he also knew that Dom would beat him.

When the singer finished his song, he received polite clapping from the people in the hall. As he bowed to them and stepped away, the king rose from his seat. "And what do you have to play for us, my lord Bolton?" he asked.

Domeric stepped forward with his harp. "A song of my own make, your Grace," he said. "You could call it a romantic song, but not one of great love between people that you would normally hear. I would say that this is about a single moment between two people in one night."

Jon did not need to look to see that Jocelyn's would be bright red. It was no secret that she had feelings for Dom, just like he for her. He heard Dom work on this song before. He was interested to hear the final version of it. So he listened as Dom strummed the harp and began to sing.

Love me one more time,
Make this night last forever,
For on the morrow, I leave for battle-

I may survive,
And I shall return to you,
But come the morrow, I leave for battle-

And if I die, just remember I love you,
And you'll always be mine,
Let us warm up this cold night together,
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-

Until tomorrow,
Let me love you forever,
For come the morrow, I leave for battle-

And if I die, just remember I love you,
And you'll always be mine,
Let us warm up this cold night together,
Come the morrow, I leave for battle-

Yes, tomorrow I leave for battle.

As he finished his song, he put down the harp and looked out to the hall. Some people might have thought that he was looking for the applause that was to come. But Jon Snow knew who he was looking for. When he found Jocelyn, sitting close to the Stark table but not close enough, he smiled.

The silence was finally broken with mass amount of clapping, both from the Northerners and, surprisingly enough, from the remaining Dornish too. Perhaps they were able to appreciate the music too? Jon thought that would be a nice thing. In spite of what happened, he did not blame the Dornish as a whole for what happened. His lord father had taught better than that.

The king clapped too and the rest of the hall did too. "Very well sang, Lord Domeric," he said. "I would say that you are the winner of this competition." He looked to the hall and asked, "What say you all?"

The hall responded with several shouts of "Aye!" and the Northmen were the strongest of the shouters.

"Thank you, my king," Domeric said, bowing his head low. When he raised it back, he did not move from his spot facing the high table. "Your Grace, if I may be so bold, would you play us a song? They have said that you have talent with the harp."

"I do," he replied. "But they did not come here to hear me sing." At that remark, various people in the hall stood up and shouted their protest. Jon Snow could only watch as multiple people asked or begged for the king to sing.

"Please, King Rhaegar," Domeric said to him after the noise managed to die down. "Indulge us, if you would."

The queen leaned to her husband and whispered in his ear. When she was finished and pulled away, there was a sadness in his eyes. "Very well," he said, standing from his seat. "I will play, if I may be able to borrow your harp, Lord Bolton?"

"By all means, your Grace," he said in return, offering it to him.

He walked down from the high table and took his harp. A few moments passed as he tested the strings, twisting the knobs to either tighten them or loosen them. And then, he began to play. As soon as those first notes were strummed and his voice sang, Jon knew what they had said about the king was true.

When I am down and oh my soul so weary,
When troubles come and my heart burdened be.
Then I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit a while with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders,
You raise me up, to more than I can be.

You raise me up, to more than I can be.

When the last note ended, silence filled the hall. No one clapped or cheered for the king. Jon Snow would have wondered why it was so, if he didn't feel the wet tears on his cheeks. It was a beautiful song but a sad one. There was a quality to it that made him question if there was someone the king was mourning. He looked to the high table and saw the royal family had tears in their eyes too, none more than the queen. He glanced at Viserys and saw that he had some tears in his eyes. But then he wiped them away.

"Your Grace," said Domeric, his voice as thick as Jon Snow felt. "I am glad that I did not try my skill against yours, for I would have lost."

"Don't be so modest, Lord Domeric," the king said in reply, handing back the harp. "Given time, I'm sure you would be able to match me in singing."

As the hall began to go back to the feast in front of them, Jon Snow felt a pair of angry eyes on him. He looked and saw that it was Robb, staring at him from the Stark table with accusing eyes. He wondered why his brother was staring at him. But then he remembered the small argument they had when the singing competition began. Robb had urged him to join and he had stubbornly refused. He had seen all those who had joined. They had both the voice and the instrument. He had only the voice and could not join.

That was what he told Robb. But in truth, there was another reason why he did not join. It was the same reason that he had not joined any of the competitions of the tourney. He was only here because Robb and Arya had begged and pleaded for him to come along. Lady Stark had made it quite clear to him that she didn't approve of him joining them.

Looking at the Stark table drew the attention of Lady Catelyn. She gave him a stern look that made him look away. His stomach declared that it was done with food and that anymore would not end well. So he stood up from his table and tried to leave as quietly as he could. He decided that he needed to be outside, away from all the smoke and wine. Perhaps a walk on the grounds would be good. He had thought that Pyp said his troupe was playing. He should look into that.

As he left the hall and went through the corridors, his mind turned to the future. The tourney would be ending soon and he would be going back to Winterfell. But what would happen then? Lady Stark had made it quite clear to him that she did not want him in Winterfell. She could not do anything with Lord Stark there but when he passed…? She would probably have him out of the castle before Robb would be able to stop her. It might be best if he got out before that happened, so it would be his choice in the decision.

But the question was, where would he go? His first thought went to the Night's Watch. It was an honorable calling. Men of House Stark had manned it for thousands of years. His own uncle Benjen was First Ranger there. Even a bastard could find honor there. The more he thought about it, the more the idea had merit.

"JON SNOW!" rang out the voice of an irate woman from behind.

He went still and turned around. Lady Tya Lannister stood in front of him, along with many of the ladies who had glared at him during the melee. They stretched back down the corridor. He had a feeling that he was greatly outnumbered and should flee, but what possible reason could he have for fleeing that many women? It would actually be seen as quite cravenly. "Is there something you require, my lady?" he asked Lady Tya, making sure that his voice was courteous and polite.

But she did not look pleased. None of them did. "You are a completely useless, fool of a man!" Lady Tya snapped at him. "You cannot even take the simplest of hints, can you?" She stepped towards him and the rest of them followed her move.

Jon was confused. Not a day past these were the same ladies who were trying their best to get him to talk to them. Now they looked like they wanted to string him up and leave him for the crows. "My lady, I am afraid that I do not understand. If I have offended you, any of you, then I apologize." He meant his words, even though he did not know what exactly was going on.

"You did not offend us," one of the Reach ladies, a Tyrell if he had to guess by her dress's color. "You disappointed us."

One of the Dornish ladies nodded in agreement, something that he never would have thought could happen. "We gave you time after time to prove yourself but you seem unable to understand the basics of hints," she told him.

He was very confused, stepping back. They followed him and somehow, he managed to find himself pressed up against the corridor wall. The stone itched against his back but that was nothing compared to the anger in the ladies' eyes. "What hints, my lady?" he dared to ask.

Lady Tya looked at him with such disgust, disappointment, and loathing in her eyes. "The events, you fool. You were to join one of the events of this tourney and ask one of us for your favor. But you did not join a single one! Not even the singing competition! It makes me wonder if the Northerners are simple and stupid as you if you cannot understand when you are playing the Woman's game!"

The rest of them started shouting too, demanding answers from him. But they sounded distant and so far away. He was shocked by her words, but that shock quickly faded away. A cold anger started to fill his chest. He looked at all the ladies staring at him, condemning him for what he chose not to do. Who were they to decide what he should have done? Did they think because he was a bastard that he would listen to their every word?

His anger grew and grew as he listened to their shouting, their condemning, until it was uncontrollable. "Enough!" he shouted, silencing them all. They reared back from him, stunned that he would speak to them in such a way. He did not stop there. He was too angry. "Who do you think that I am? Do you all think me to be one of the smallfolk that you can command to do your every whim? Did you ask me if I wanted to play this game of yours? No, you just assumed that I would!"

"It's an honor to be chosen!" one of the ladies told him.

He swung his eyes to where the voice had come from. He couldn't see who it was but it didn't matter to him. "It's an honor that I did not ask for! I did not come here to play games. I came to Riverrun to watch and cheer for my family should they compete." He saw the stunned looks on their faces. It just made him angrier. "Is that so hard to believe?" There were plenty of men, both low and highborn, who came to tourneys and not compete in them.

"But why did you not join the competitions?" another lady asked him, her curiosity painting evenly with her fear.

It was a fair question, he could admit to that. It was a question that calmed his anger. He took in a breath and breathed it out too. "I did not join because I was not to shame and embarrass Lady Catelyn."

His reply sparked a resurgence in their anger. They leaned in closer to him again. They probably thought his reason was a foolish. "You wouldn't join because a woman told you that you would bring shame upon her? If there is a fool here it is her!"

The accusation didn't gladden him. Instead, he laughed bitterly. "I shame Lady Stark with every breath that I take! Everywhere step I take is a living testament to the shame I bring upon her and House Stark! I have no wish to inflict further ill-will upon myself, yet you all seem to insist on having me do just that! If you all wish from me is mere entertainment for yourselves, then my ladies, kindly leave me alone!"

His voice fell silent and they looked at him with awe. He didn't want their awe, only to be alone. He went to push pass them and they parted. His eyes did not meet any of their eyes. Only when he was free of them did he dare look up. But Lady Catelyn was there, standing at the end of the corridor. He froze at the sight of her. How long had she been standing there? Did she hear the entire tirade?

There was a hand on his shoulder and when he looked to see who it was, he saw that it was Jocelyn. He was glad to see her. She knew what he felt when it came to Lady Stark. He gave her a smile of thanks before walking past Lady Stark, not saying a word. His feet led him out of the castle but they did not take him to the tourney grounds. Instead, he found himself walking to the godswood. He didn't stop himself. After being told that he was supposed to be playing some sort of game for the ladies, he needed solace.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the wolves bounded over to him. All six of them wheeled around him, heads butting against his hands. He looked down at them and wondered. Did they really know what was happening from the very beginning? If that was true then they were smarter than he was. He walked over to the heart tree and stared at the face.

Questions began appearing in his head. Why had he been chosen for this supposed game of theirs? Was it just for their amusement? Did they want to see him running around trying to please them all? He guessed that by the way he acted, what he had done was the complete opposite. Yes, he had noticed what they were doing but thought they were only trying to talk to him in order to reach Robb or any of the Pack, even Theon. He had not a clue they were trying to actually talk to him.

The wolves turned their heads back to where he came. He turned to see what their attention and froze. Princess Rhaenys stood there, just by the next tree. He was sure that she had been there when he spoke. Now seeing her here, it made him anger. "Your Highness," he said coldly.

"Jon," she said back. She took a step towards him and the wolves bared their teeth at her. She stopped there but kept her eyes on him.

"Was this all a game to you?" he asked.

She answered, "Not to me."

"But you still played it."

"You call it playing. I call it making sure that you would only see me." She smiled. "After all, I am the one who kissed you."

That smile probably should've made his knees weak. But it only served to make him angrier. "Is that supposed to say you've a lead on them all?" he asked her, his voice biting.

The smile fell off her face. "Jon, I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

She looked at the wolves again, with a frown that was also thoughtful. She took a deep breath and stepped forward again. She walked towards him, ignoring the bared teeth of the wolves and the rumbling growls. She kept walking until she was a step away from them, her eyes locked onto his. "What would be said of a princess who went after a bastard? The Woman's game was the only way that I could have done so."

He froze. "You wanted to come after me? Why?" Now that he was aware of the game, he assumed that she had gone after him because she wanted the same as the others.

"Because you're different," she told him. "I've been a part of many Women's games and each time I've played it, our selected man has always known he's been selected. But you, you did not know. You offered something, something different. You are honest, Jon Snow. You are willing to be humiliated in public sparring because your opponent was your social better. You are willing to not join any of the events in this tourney because you know that it will draw attention to you and that will make Lady Stark angry."

She stopped for a moment. She seemed sad. Jon wondered why she was. He had done nothing to make her so. She spoke again. "You also forbid yourself from having a woman because you are afraid that you will sire another bastard and he will suffer the same as you. You accept the life you have been given but you also wish that you could have a better one."

He was shocked that she knew such things about him. "How could you…?" he tried to ask her, but the words failed him.

She smiled again and his anger faded at it. "I've seen you in the moonlight, Jon Snow," she told him, stepping closer. The wolves didn't growl anymore but he could see their teeth were still showing. "When I first saw you there, I could remember something my father had always told me but didn't see until then. You were like nothing I had seen before then. When I saw you again drenched in moonlight, I saw the sorrow and anguished you were hiding from everyone."

"I'm hiding nothing," he retorted swiftly.

"But you are," she said to him. "It reached me, Jon. I saw you, standing at the riverbank, and I wanted to go out to you. I wanted to take hold of you and never let you go."

She braved those last few steps to him and the wolves parted for her, their teeth gone from sight. She stepped close to him, her eyes never straying from his. He found that he could not look away from hers either. She leaned in for a kiss, but he tilted his away. It was only by a few inches but he might as well have turned his face from her completely. "We can't," he told her.

She reached out and pushed his face back to hers. "Why?" she asked.

There were many reasons why. Could she not see them? Perhaps, he figured, it was best to ask her a simple question. "Do you love me or just want me?"

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she fell silent and thought about it. "It was want at first. But now, now I believe it to be love." She looked up at him, her dark eyes challenging. "Tell me you don't feel the same."

He saw her. He saw how beautiful she was. Despite what she might have seemed to others, he could tell that she was kind and gentle, if not a bit demanding and strong-minded. It seemed like she was the middle ground between Sansa and Arya. But even if she was those things, even if he could not disagree, he knew what the future would bring: nothing. "What will happen after the tourney?" he asked her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what will happen to us if I say yes? When the tourney is over, you will go back to King's Landing and I will go back to Winterfell. We would never see each other again." Saying those words out loud hurt more than he thought possible. But it was still the truth and he had to face it.

"What if we ran away?" she asked.

He looked at her incredulously. "Princess, I do not think that you would even think of such a thing. Where would we go? There would be men out hunting for you as soon as you disappeared. We would live on the run, with nothing but the clothes on our backs."

"We would have each other." There was a stubborn note to her voice and her face. She seemed determined to go through with this madness.

But he would not let her. "Princess—"

"Rhaenys," she told him. "My name is Rhaenys."

"Princess Rhaenys—"

"No," she said stubbornly again. "Don't say 'your Highness,' and don't say 'Princess Rhaenys.' Just call me by my name."

He wanted to. Gods above, he wanted to. But if he did, it would mean something that couldn't be. He couldn't let it be so. "Princess, it would not work. You are a part of the royal family. You have been surrounded by luxury and privilege. You deserve someone who will be able to keep you happy and content, not worrying if you will have to scavenge for your next meal or sell something else to keep going. That person isn't me. Please, for the sake of us both let it end here."

She was silent for a long moment. Jon wondered if she was accepting the facts or trying to find a way around them. She stepped in close to him and hugged him tight, her arms around his neck. It was a move he didn't expect and he went still for a moment. When he unfroze, he reached up to take her hands off. "Don't," she told him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Just let me have this, please."

He complied, lowering his hands. They didn't fall to his sides but instead to the small of her back, interlocking and holding there. They stood in the godswood, like forbidden lovers who could only meet in the light of the moon. It was a nice thought and so romantic it would make Sansa happy. But he knew it couldn't be what Sansa wanted. This would be the only he would hold Rhaenys and only for this night. That was it, there nothing he could do to change it. All he could do was enjoy the moment, enjoy the feeling of holding her tight and smelling her hair. In that moment, he felt content.

End

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

Alright, so Jack was the only child of Jorah's first wife. I figure that he had a son he would focus more on raising him right and less on finding another wife. That is why he's still the Lord of Bear Island and no actual mention of the Bitch from Hightower.

We've all guessed it, I've just going to come out and say it: Brienne is descended from Ser Duncan the Tall. And it is probably unrealistic that she would fight against all seven of the Kingsguard, but I tried to be careful. She didn't fight them all at the same time, and she didn't win against them.

The first song is by Heather Alexander and the second actually has multiple versions. Admittedly, I think that Rhaegar would sing You raise me up like the Josh Groban version. But I've always preferred the Celtic Women version. Listen to the two versions and let me know what you think.

I'll see you all next chapter!