Chapter 8: Pieces Of The Same Puzzle
King's Landing
Sansa looked around the corridor and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, strodded to her bedroom. Her heart raced as she opened the door to her room hastily, and getting inside, breathed a loud sigh of relief.
She attempted to even her rapid breathing. A gasp left her mouth as she turned around and saw Arya sleeping on her bed. She tried to keep quiet, but her sister was already getting up. She blinked a few times before her eyes went wide, and she sat up straight.
"Sansa." Her voice was half angry, and half surprised. "May I ask where were you last night?"
Sansa stood speechless. Arya's stare was enough to convince her that her sister would certainly find out if she lied to her.
"Sansa," Arya said again, her voice softer this time. She got off the bed and walked to her, then held her hands in her own. "Please tell me you haven't laid with him."
Sansa gasped in shock again as her voice caught in her throat. Arya waited for her answer, but when none came, shook her head indignantly.
"You shouldn't have."
"Arya..." Sansa looked into her sister's eyes and her lips curved into a small smile. "I love him."
Arya didn't reply, and instead paced the room while Sansa stood still in her place. Arya knows. The words chanted in her head again and again, until fear engulfed her. How does she know? Arya wouldn't betray her and tell anyone, but she would certainly think her as selfish.
"How did you find out?"
"I saw you kissing, for Gods' sake!" Sansa's face turned red. She waited for Arya to say something else, but she didn't.
"You know I don't love Jon," she said after seconds of silence.
"But Sansa, you are going to marry him! You slept with his brother!" Arya exclaimed.
Sansa sat on the chair next to her bed, and discarded the blanket from her body. She pulled her braid lazily to her side and started undoing it.
"Aegon said he will tell Jon. But he needs time."
"Sansa." Arya kneeled down in front of her and took her face in her hands. "I am not displeased you love Aegon. But won't Jon feel betrayed by all of this? This is Aegon we're talking about. Their bond is stronger than blood. It isn't your fault you love him, nor is it his, and I understand the kiss, but Sansa, why did you lay with him?"
"Because I wanted to and he wanted to. Because for once in my life, I felt free while I was with him. No duties, no restrictions. I felt happy. I still do."
Arya shook her head.
"You have to tell Jon."
"Aegon will. Please don't tell him yourself. It'd be better if it's Aegon." Sansa stroked her sister's hair lightly. "I know you like him."
"No, I don't." Arya mouth formed a hard line, but the look in her eyes was enough to convince Sansa of the truth.
"I tried to deny as well, Arya. It's no use. We can't control everything."
Arya stood up abruptly.
"I am not you, Sansa."
She leaned down and pressed a kiss on top of Sansa's head and turned around, preparing to leave.
"I am sorry," Sansa said.
Arya smiled lightly. "It's not me you should apologize to."
Sansa heard the door slam shut and sighed. She fumbled with the braid again, her fingers untying the hair tie.
Arya is still angry. Sansa was well acquainted with her sister's tempers, and she knew it was far from over.
Sansa hadn't made a mistake. She was in love with Aegon, and he loved her too. He always made her forget everything else when she was around him, as he'd done last night as well. Her cheeks reddened again as memories of last night flashed through her mind. The way his skin felt against hers, and the way his hands caressed every part of her body.
She wasn't a maiden now, but she didn't regret it. It almost made her laugh, how falling in love had changed the calculating, careful girl into a reckless one. Her mother would admonish her for losing her maidenhead before her marriage, even if it was to the man she was supposed to marry.
Sansa didn't want to marry Jon. She remembered when she was little, she used to daydream about being Queen one day, or get married to a knight who would bring her flowers everyday and who would kiss her and sing songs for her. That dream had never truly disappeared from her mind. She had still wanted to marry a Lord and live in a castle. She wanted the singers to sing songs about their love, and spread tales about how madly Lady Sansa's husband loved her. But now, it didn't feel as much important as it had done before. She wanted love still, but now it didn't seem to matter whether it was a Lord or a Prince, or if she lived in a castle. She didn't care if no one would sing songs about her and Aegon. She loved him, and nothing seemed comparable to the feeling of his lips on hers, or his arms wrapped around her. She didn't need songs, as long as she had him.
Sansa wanted to marry Aegon more than anything, and she hoped against hope she would. But that didn't mean she coudn't want him now. She did, and she had him. There was no shame in it.
Sansa wondered what Arya would've done if she'd been in her place. Her sister had always been more reckless than her, and although Arya liked to boast about how she didn't need a husband or some man to love her, Sansa knew how wrong she was. Everyone needed love, and Arya deserved someone who would make her happy. She wasn't a romantic as herself, but Sansa had been noticing for a few days how Jon had been paying attention to Arya. If she was right, Arya wasn't oblivious to the looks and the smiles he threw her way, although she was probably trying her best not to care or notice. Arya had always made fun of the songs Sansa was so fond of. For her sister, listening to the tales of battles and jousts and warriors conquering lands was more joyous than the tales of Florian and Jonquil.
Jon seldom laughed or even smiled before Sansa, but she had been noticing him doing more of that with Arya. Maybe Arya was changing him as much as he was changing her. She had seen Arya staring at him once, like he did so many times, and the way her cheeks colored made Sansa smile. It would be hard for anyone to win Arya's heart; she was the most headstrong girl Sansa knew. But it certainly wasn't impossible. Stop this marriage, she prayed. I don't want to marry him, and he doesn't either. Not one bit.
A wave of fear rushed through her when she saw Jon walk towards her, but faded when he greeted a good morrow to her normally. Aegon hasn't told him yet.
After breakfast, the King and Lord Tyrell went to the solar. Jon Connington followed them. Sansa didn't like the man. Aegon had little love for him, and that seemed to rub off on her. Lyanna stayed behind, after nodding to Rhaegar and sending him a smile. Sansa always admired the love between her Uncle and her Aunt. The wolf maid and the silver dragon; the tales were no stranger to Sansa's ears.
Arya was sitting at a distance from them. Aegon took her side after the King left, and she threw a hard stare at him. Aegon frowned and whispered something to her, to which Arya replied in the same manner. The whispering went on, accompanied by some nudges on each side, until Sansa could see Arya's mood lighten. She reminded herself to thank Aegon for that later.
To her side, Jon was standing stiffly looking nowhere in particular, but Sansa saw him steal a few glances at the other couple. Arya looked back at him, her posture relaxing as she waved her hand their way. Sansa waved back. Jon didn't, and Arya noticed, averting her eyes away to continue her conversation with Aegon.
"Arya," her aunt called. Arya turned to her and nodded. She spoke briefly to Aegon, then made her way to where the Queen was sitting. Sansa could sense Jon sit beside her, his attention directed at his mother and Arya.
Lyanna patted the space beside her and Arya sat down.
"I ordered some dresses to be made for you to wear in the feast. I already gave your sister hers," she paused and threw a quick smile at Sansa. "I hope you like them."
"But why? My old dresses seem nice enough."
"We would want you to look special, won't we?" She softly stroked Arya's hair. "Maybe you will catch some handsome Lord's eye."
Arya rolled her eyes and Lyanna laughed.
"Gods show mercy to that eye!" Aegon exclaimed. Sansa joined his and Lyanna's laughter, while Arya glared at Aegon; there was a grin hidden behind it.
When the laughter subdued, Sansa noticed Jon had been silent the entire time. His eyes were cold and hard, staring straight at Arya.
"It would be wonderful, wouldn't it, if Arya found herself a husband at the feast?" Sansa asked, curious as to what his answer would be.
"I don't think your sister wants to marry anyone," he replied. The jealousy in his voice was so evident Sansa wondered whether he tired to hide it or not.
"Arya doesn't know what she wants. It takes a while for her to realise the obvious." Sansa tried to hide her amused smile. "But she will, eventually."
"It's so hard to make out what she is thinking," he mused.
"Arya has always been selective about showing emotions. Not everyone earns the right to know her inside out."
"My brother seems to have accomplished the task."
Sansa choked on her voice. Seven hells! He thinks Arya and Aegon...
She laughed out loud. Jon looked at her strangely. "There is nothing going on between my sister and your brother," she said.
"How can you be so sure?" He asked. His voice was laced with hope. Sansa gently put her hand on his shoulder.
"I assure you, Jon. They don't like each other that way." She turned and realised the other three people had left the room.
They were silent for some time before Sansa spoke again,
"Do you really want to marry me, Jon?"
Jon frowned at her and sighed. "I don't know what I want. But I don't think you want to marry me, do you Sansa?"
"I...," she hesitated. "I feel we do not... fit."
"Do you want to..."
"Call off our betrothal? Can we?" Sansa's heart beat faster and faster. She was taking such a big chance, and it was a blessing Jon wanted to break the betrothal too, but maybe they were taking a leap too big.
"Sansa, our families won't like that," Jon stated. "And I am a Prince. It will not be looked upon as a wise decision by most. Things could turn bad."
"You can marry someone else. Someone you want, someone you love." She gripped his arm lightly. "I know who you want."
Jon's face turned somber. "She doesn't want the same."
"Don't be sure of that."
"It is harder than you think, Sansa." He stood up. "Calling off a betrothal is not easy. Especially since I am the Prince of Westeros and you are the daughter of the Warden of the North."
"But we'll never be happy with this union. You know that."
Jon seemed nervous, but Sansa couldn't make out why. "I need time to think," he said.
"Of course." You two are the same.
"There is danger in this. We don't know the consequences," he warned.
Sansa didn't care. To be able to be with Aegon was enough to help her withstand whatever dangers lay ahead. "If we succeed though, you can go down the path you really want to go."
"Is this just about me wanting Arya?"
"No, it's about me too. I don't want this match as much as you. Maybe if we tell them we both don't want this, they'll understand."
"You are too optimistic." He smiled.
"And you should be too," Sansa said. "You love her, don't you?"
He sighed. "I don't know. Whatever it is I feel for her, it's stronger than anything I've ever felt before. I don't think your sister feels the same way, though."
"Arya is stubborn. She takes pride in being a girl who doesn't care about love and romance and other things girls swoon over. She likes you more than she thinks, I can tell."
Jon seemed to ponder over her words before he asked her,
"She seemed upset yesterday. Was something wrong?"
"I don't know." Was it because of me and Aegon?
"Arya is hard to understand," he said again.
"But that is why she is special," Sansa said. "She is fifteen, after all," she added.
"Is that a warning I hear?" Jon arched a brow.
"Probably."
Sansa sneaked off to the north wing of the castle later that evening, and found Aegon already waiting for her. He turned and smiled at her, and Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Love," he murmured in her ear, before dropping kisses down her throat, and finally kissing her lips.
"We should be more discreet, you know," she said, laughing lightly. "I hope Arya hasn't threatened to kill you."
Aegon leaned away and grinned at her, his hands wrapped around her waist. "Your sister can be scary at times. I think she felt bad we didn't tell her earlier."
Sansa nodded and Aegon leaned in to kiss her again. She shivered and held on to him tighter as his tongue traced her lower lip slowly. Aegon pulled her towards his body sharply, making her gasp.
"Thank you for lightening her mood," she whispered. "Jon and I decided something."
Aegon looked at her curiously and ran his knuckles over her cheek. "What?"
"We are calling off the betrothal."
Aegon's eyes widened in shock.
"Have you told him about us?"
"No, love. We did talk about other things, and we've both realised our union won't be fruitful." Sansa pecked him on his cheek. "It'll be easier this way. Now that we've established he isn't interested in me like that, maybe it'll be easier for you to tell him about us, and for him to listen."
"Will he talk to Father?" Aegon asked.
"He said he needs time. You both are same." She smiled at him and added, "He thinks it'll be a hard task."
"So do I," Aegon replied. "It is not everyday marriage alliances are called off between two big Houses. It will take a lot of convincing on Jon's part. And my Father's head is full of that pro-" Aegon stopped.
"Full of what?"
Aegon sighed. "He just wants Jon to marry and secure the family line. We can't blame him for that."
"It's not like Jon won't marry. He just won't be marrying me."
"Yes," Aegon smirked. "You are all for me. Maybe there's someone else out there for Jon. You know, someone with dark hair and grey eyes." He winked.
"That would be fantastic, won't it?"
"Perfectly so. Now my love, give me permission to silence that sweet mouth of yours."
She hummed and their mouths met again. Sansa felt relieved. The road was hard to step on, but she had Aegon to accompany her. Things may take a turn for the worse in the future, but for now things are perfect.
She let out a giggle as Aegon lifted her off the ground and pressed her against the wall. All thoughts left her mind as his hand found its way under her dress. Nothing can make me happier.
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The cupbearer poured the wine and Rhaegar waved him away. He silently went and stood at the corner of the room, hidden by the shadows.
"So what is this important news Lord Tyrell?" Rhaegar asked.
Mace Tyrell emptied the cup in two sips, and put it on the table. "Important news indeed, Your Grace. You do remember Robert Baratheon?"
Rhaegar threw a hard stare at the fat Lord. He straightened in his seat.
"I remember him very well, Lord Tyrell. Who can forget the man who rebelled against the Throne?"
"His brother holds the seat of Storm's End."
"I gave him the seat myself," Rhaegar said impatiently. What is this man playing at?
"I think you made a mistake Your Grace. Stannis Baratheon is rumoured to be giving shelter to his exiled brother Robert."
"He wouldn't dare," Rhaegar roared.
"There is danger of another rebellion, Your Grace," Mace informed calmly. He called the cupbearer to pour him more wine.
"Where have you heard of this?" Rhaegar demanded, his voice stern.
"There are a good number of Highgarden spies in Storm's End, Your Grace."
"Varys would've informed me of this," Rhaegar retorted.
"Mayhaps he hasn't been paying attention."
"You underestimate Varys. He pays more attention than you think. If they are preparing to rebel, don't you think they'd be careful enough not to let spies hear of their plans?"
"Oh, Your Grace. My spies only informed me about Lord Stannis sheltering Robert. The bit about the rebellion I learnt from Robert himself."
Rhaegar took his seat, intrigued.
Mace Tyrell went on,
"Robert asked me to join him in battle against the Throne, Your Grace. I received the raven two days before I left for King's Landing."
"He would dare make such a proposal knowing you have sworn fealty to me?" Rhaegar asked suspiciously. Something is not right.
"I haven't spoke of this to anyone, Your Grace. We wouldn't want everyone to know about Robert gathering an army. It would cause tensions everywhere."
"It's wise of you."
"What will you do about this?" Mace asked.
"I will need you to keep quiet about this for the time being. Until there is proof, we cannot assume the worst. Stannis has answers to give." He got ready to leave. "I hope you will cooperate with me, Lord Tyrell." It was a warning.
"Of course, Your Grace. I live to serve the Crown." He bowed and Rhaegar nodded. The guard opened the door and he walked out.
The Tyrells were deceptive. He knew they wouldn't hesitate to change sides based on their own profit. Rhaegar clenched his fist. If this information was true, and Robert had in fact decided again to rebel against the Targaryens, he would've to supress it as soon as possible. Lyanna. She could be in danger, so would his children. He mustn't let it come to a war. Westeros was peaceful, and there was no need for spilling blood over old grudges.
He suspected the Tyrells. If Robert wants to rebel, he would've been discreet about it. And if he hadn't, news should've reached Rhaegar sooner. Where is Varys? It was unusual for someone like Mace Tyrell to know about such things before the spider did. Varys had links all over Westeros, and a matter of this kind couldn't escape his ears easily. Maybe Mace Tyrell was just trying to rouse Rhaegar's anger, probably to remove Stannis Baratheon from the seat of Storm's End.
Jon Connington had waited outside the solar. Now he walked beside Rhaegar, both of them appoaching the Throne room.
"Connington?"
"Yes, Your Grace?"
"Where is Varys? I need to see him."
Connington sent one of the guard to summon the eunuch. The King and the Hand made their way to the Throne and Rhaegar sat down on the Iron Throne.
"Is something troubling you, Your Grace?" Connington asked.
"I will speak when I see Varys," Rhaegar said.
The doors opened after a while and Varys strodded in. Rhaegar quickly dismissed all of the guards and the Kingsguard from the room, leaving only him, Connington and the Master of Whispers.
Varys bowed. "Your Grace."
"Do you remember what your position in this court is, Lord Varys?" Rhaegar asked calmly.
Varys looked surprised. "Of course, Your Grace."
"You are the Master of Whispers, are you not?" Rhaegar asked again.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Then why," Rhaegar roared, "does Mace Tyrell know someone is going to rebel against the Crown before you do?"
Varys remained still. "I presume you're speaking about Robert Baratheon, Your Grace?"
Rhaegar's anger flared. "You knew about this? Still you didn't inform me?"
"Apologies, Your Grace. There have been no reports of any House joining the rebellion except Robert's brother Stannis. The Houses are all loyal to you. The rebellion is a lost cause. Robert will learn that himself in a few months. Even the ravens have stopped leaving Storm's End."
"But Stannis Baratheon has commited treason giving shelter to his exiled brother. He should know better."
"He is the last living Lord of House Baratheon, Your Grace. If you accuse him, some vassal houses may rebel. His wife, Lady Selyse is rumoured to be carrying a child. The child will be born in a few moons' time. After that, bringing Stannis here and throwing him in the black cells won't result in much defiance because they will have his heir. The vassal kingdoms do not love Stannis, but they have been sworn to House Baratheon since decades. Let them have their heir, they wouldn't blink an eye in giving up Stannis."
Rhaegar considered that.
"How does Mace Tyrell know of this?" He asked.
"Lord Tyrell," Varys explained, "seems to be hiding more than he takes credit for. There are rumours he will side with Robert if the rebellion comes into fruition. But there won't be one. Only Highgarden and Storm's End alone can't march against the combined forces of King's Landing, Casterly Rock, Dorne and the entire North."
"If you agree, Your Grace, I will give orders to bring Robert here," Connington proposed.
"There's no need for that. I spared his life once. I am not turning back on my words now. Let him live, but if he tries one more time to turn the Houses against me, he will die. Varys, keep an eye on his actions, and do not," his voice became sterner, "keep things from me in the future. It won't be pleasant for you if you do."
"Yes, Your Grace. And if I may, could you convince the Tyrells to stay here for some more time? I would want to find out what Mace Tyrell is actually planning to do, and it would be advantageous to us if he is within Your Grace's eye."
Rhaegar nodded. "There must be some reason for them to stay."
"What about the wedding, Your Grace?" Connington asked.
"The wedding would be a perfect occassion, Your Grace," Varys agreed.
"I will talk to my family," Rhaegar nodded.
The windows were closed and the candles extinguished, except the one the table beside the bed. Rhaegar stroked his wife's back as she rested her head against his chest. The sheets were tangled over their legs, with nothing to cover their upper bodies. The light illuminated her figure, her pale skin looked darker.
"What troubles you?" She asked softly. Rhaegar leaned down and kissed her forehead.
"I want to keep you safe. You, Aegon, Jon, my people. Sometimes, I wonder if I've done enough."
Lyanna pushed herself up on one elbow and palmed his cheek. "You are a great King. The people love you. Your family loves you. Westeros is at peace. You've done more than enough."
Rhaegar didn't want to worry her, but he was incapable of hiding anything from her.
"The Priestess was right," he said. "Robert is gathering an army, or at least is trying to."
The moment Robert's name fell from his lips, the peaceful expression of hers vanished. Instead her brows furrowed and her eyes turned cold. "That man will never understand. Why does he want a war? All the bloodshed and death."
"I stole you from him," Rhaegar said.
"No, you didn't! I was never his! I would've run away alone if I hadn't fallen in love with you. The betrothal was never my choice. I wouldn't have went on with it anyway."
"My wolf," Rhaegar smiled, lifting her chin up.
"Why does he want to dig old graves? I am Queen now. There is no way he can have me."
"I think this time it's not about love. It's about revenge."
"You gave him what he deserved. He shouldn't have rebelled. He knew I loved you," she replied. "And you spared his life, after all that he'd done."
Rhaegar explained to her how it would all probably be for nothing, and Robert may not rebel after all. He told her everything Varys had said in the Throne room. He felt his chest lighten as he did so.
"The wedding is going to take place earlier than we'd planned."
"Why?" She asked surprised.
"We need to keep the Tyrells in King's landing for some time. They can't refuse if we ask them to stay until the wedding."
"But you're only thinking about this politically. What of the husband and the wife. Have you asked Jon about this?"
"No. I will, tomorrow."
"Is it necessary? Such things musn't be rushed," Lyanna pleaded.
"Men marry women they haven't seen before. It's been more than a month. Jon and Sansa knew this would happen eventually."
Lyanna sighed. "Talk to Jon," she said. She held on to him and closed her eyes. "I want our son to be happy."
"He will be," Rhaegar said. "Sansa will make a good Queen. I will write to Eddard Stark as soon as I've talked to Jon."
"Ned will be surprised," Lyanna stated softly.
"Goodnight, love."
"Goodnight, Rhaegar."
He didn't fall asleep instantly. His mind went over the day's events again. Varys has to be quick. If there wll be another rebellion, he will be ready for it. He clutched the sleeping form of Lyanna closer. I will let no one hurt her.
A/N: Please leave a comment.