A/N: This story is written for two people very close to me - you know who you are - and I thank them so much for their continued friendship and assistance. I'm unsure of the update schedule for this fic, I'll be gone before too long, but I hope to continue to write and post whensoever I can find the time to do so.
Marna = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE KIND REVIEWS. We now get so many that it's impossible to respond to all of them, but each and every one of you taking the time to speak your support mean the world to me. Please, by all means, speak with me in Discord!
Marna frowned at her father's words.
"Father?" she asked slowly, her hand tentatively reaching out to grab hold of one of his far larger, stronger and calloused ones. "What's going to change?"
Her father, Eddard Stark, smiled sadly at her and swallowed. When he drew her into his side and kissed the top of her head as he oft did when he was in a sorrowful mood, she knew that the fullness of what he was keeping from her was bad.
"Everything, my sweet," he said to her, his tone heavy with emotion. "I have not the heart to tell you, Marna. I don't think a day will pass wherein I'll ever have the heart to do so. When the King arrives with his family and retinue, it will be he and his that answer every question that you might have."
"But fa—" Marna tried, but Ned shook his head and pressed one last kiss atop her head before he withdrew.
"You'll find out in time. Until then, stay within the confines of your chambers save for meals and your training. The King will be here soon," he took one last look at her, and with a soft smile the same as the one he gave to her earlier, when first he entered her chambers — filled with sadness — he left.
Marna was confused and conflicted when the door closed and she was left to nought but her own thoughts. From the time she had forgotten to dye her hair as her father urged half a moon ago, to now… it was as if the world had changed. She was a bastard born of her father's lust, that was all she knew and yet, her father said that the royal family wished to travel to the North so that they might meet her.
Mayhaps it was all a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. There was little honourable that a Targaryen might want from her. They were lustful and warlike, arrogant and incestuous, violent and pompous. The North had bled for them, she had lost much of her family to them, and yet, her father said that it would be they that answered her questions. It would be them that explained why they wished to see her, and finally, it would be House Targaryen that gave her the truth about her mother.
Maybe mother was a Targaryen, and that was why father acted so nervous.
She shook her head at such a foolish thought. Father wouldn't have lain with a Targaryen. He despised them, it was he that fed her half of what she knew of their family and legacy, and he that told her how the North had bled terribly for the King's lust. If he had sired her on a Targaryen woman, all that she knew of him would be turned upon its head.
Marna moved along the stone floor until she stood beside her bed, where she promptly fell backwards, onto its softness. She had been given chambers with the rest of her siblings, and in them were expensive pelts, books, swords, clothes of a high quality… everything that one might want for in life, and with meals that never ceased so long as she could eat. It was a privileged life that many thought no bastard deserved. Lady Catelyn was kinder to her than any woman could ever be expected to be too. Marna was a stain on her Lord Father's honour and a sign of disrespect to his lady wife, and somehow, the woman still found it within herself to be kind.
Mayhaps that would be different if she had been born a boy.
Little Arya, her constant companion and her best friend would likely be more distant from her person. At the very least, Marna doubted that she'd be allowed to sleep in her bed and through the storms they had. Arya, yes, that was an idea. Her little sister was clever and made for the perfect spy. If she were lucky, Arya might listen in on her father's meetings whensoever she could, and in doing so, mayhaps she could learn something, anything, to explain why the Royals might be interested in her.
Her stomach flopped and gurgled angrily. Whatever they wanted from her was likely bad. No desires that Targaryen had would be pleasant, and if the entire Royal Family was riding north with scant little detail…
Marna vowed that she would find out what it was they wished for, and if it were untoward or if she disliked the notion of it, she would flee. Her father would help her, he swore to it. With a vast amount of coinage or the connections her family possessed, she would make it away from the Targaryens should she wish it.
"Supper, Marna."
It was one of the servants of her father. Oft times she supped with her family at the very same table, but now and until the Royals arrived, mayhaps even with them here, she was confined to her chambers. Her father said it was for her protection, that was the very reason he gave when he stationed additional guards at her chambers' entrance.
"Thank you," Marna called back, her voice scratchy and her nervousness spilling into it.
By the Old Gods, she wished she were far and away from this place by the time the Targaryens arrived; she knew that wasn't to be.
The days went by slowly, and as the Royal retinue drew closer with the passing of every hour, Marna's nervousness did nought but grow whilst her father avoided seeing her. She heard from her siblings that he was stressed and pacing late into the night and that during mealtimes, he would barely touch his plate. Most, if not all of his time throughout the day would be spent in the crypts of Winterfell or the Godswood, where he would be deep in prayer.
"You're not nervous, are you?" Robb asked, poking her in the cheek while Arya examined the sword that their father had only recently gifted Marna.
Marna slapped Robb's hand away whilst her eyes watched her little sister so that she wasn't wounded by her own hands. "Of course I'm nervous. King Rhaegar, Queen Elia, their family — all of them will be in Winterfell within the next day, mayhaps even this evening, Robb. Father told you that they were coming for me, you know that."
"He hasn't said why. Arya couldn't get the truth out of him, I couldn't even as his heir… even mother's tried. Father won't say anything, we've never seen him so withdrawn and when I tried to get you out of here so that you might join us for meals, he threatened to seal me away in my chambers the same as he's done to you," Robb shook his head while he furrowed his brows, his visage was that of when he was deeply annoyed and bothered by something. "We'll never find out unless he wants to tell us what's bothering him. It's got something to do with you too."
"You're a genius," Marna deadpanned as she rolled her eyes, Robb's final words doing nothing short of sending her already racing heart into a sprint.
"I try."
"Don't," she responded instantly.
"Marna, do you think father will let me get one when I'm five and ten like you?" Arya asked, pulling away her two older siblings from their discussion and over to her as she struggled to hold the sword in her two slight arms.
Robb answered before Marna could. "If you're as small then as you are now, I doubt you'll ever hold anything other than that bow you keep stealing."
Marna slapped Robb's shoulder and smiled at Arya's downcast face. "Swords can come in many a size. I'm sure if you really wished for one, Father would have it made for you regardless of your size — you'll be bigger by then too. You remember how small I was when I was your age, don't you?"
"We're small. It's not fair. Robb and Theon are too big," Arya complained, the small girl levelling the sword at Robb 'threateningly' for all of a second or so before it fell to the ground with a clang, the tip of it scratching the surface of Marna's stone floor; she cared not. It could be resharpened, but Arya couldn't have her feet replaced if the next drop was catastrophic.
"Put it back whence you found out. There'll be a time later for swordplay. You're meant to come up here and lay with me so I can squeeze my stress away," Marna said teasingly as she opened her arms after pointing at the sheath of her sword. Arya sighed, pouted and finally when she saw that her older sister was unrelenting, stomped over to her. "Wonderful."
"Boring," Arya answered back.
Robb snorted. "Boring," he agreed, his hands raised in surrender when Marna cast a look at him, yet still he spoke further. "Arya's right, sister. You were far more fun before Sansa forced you into sewing and other ladylike behaviour."
"You're just saying that because you miss having a competent sparring partner. Theon's terrible and no other person will dare to knock you on your arse as you deserve," Marna said back to him, grinning when he laughed.
"Aye, I reckon you're right. I remember putting you on your arse a fair few times myself before Father said that we shouldn't spar anymore. If only you were a boy, then I'd be able to put you on the ground time and time again without father caring about it," Robb lamented as he leaned back, hogging nearly half of her bed as he spread himself out.
Marna poked at his ribs. "Scooch over. Arya and I want to lay back too."
Robb grunted and did as she asked, but even then, the room that he made was minimal. Still, it was enough for the two girls, slight as they were, and so they leaned back. Marna was on the right, Robb was on the left and between them lay their youngest sister. As Marna began to doze, her restless mind finally comfortable with the presence of her siblings, she couldn't help but make it turn sour for herself.
With the Royal Family soon upon them, for all she knew, this was the last time that she might rest with her family. If they wished to take her, for the sake of her family and their safety the more she thought of it, she would let them have her. Her father would be angry and withdrawn, her siblings would hate her or shed tears, and she too would cry, but it would mean their safety.
That meant more to her than anything else in the world. She would do her duty for them all, for their safety and happiness at the cost of her own. There would be no fleeing. She would have to do whatever she could, mayhaps even at the cost of her own life. If that was what it took, she would give it up gladly.
For she was a bastard, and what was the life of a single bastard when compared to House Stark?
"Don't go," Arya pleaded as she tried — and failed — to keep Marna back from the door, her small arms around Marna's waist offering nought but a token resistance as the older and larger girl moved to leave.
"I can't stay in here, Arya," Marna said softly as she took another step towards the exit. "If I do, Father or mayhaps the King himself will seek me out. Would you rather I stay stuck in my chambers, or would you rather I face them boldly and without cowardice?"
Arya huffed and when she responded, her voice was muffled on account of her face being pressed into Marna's back. "I would rather you leave… or we kill the King. He can't have you! You're meant to stay here with us. We're supposed to grow old together and fight away the boys that come to take us from each other, from Robb and from Father!"
Marna laughed and pulled Arya out from behind her so that the girl stood before her. "That's not going to happen if the King commands it — I know, I know. Think positively, Arya. We know not what he wants, nor his family, and until we do, these errant thoughts help nobody. You have to be careful with who you say such words around too, for speaking carelessly is dangerous," Marna lowered her voice and leaned in, her lips very near to Arya's right ear. "The King has his spider, and the spider has his spiderlings. Anything we say even as far north as we are might one day back its way back to him."
Arya folded her arms and scowled.
"I didn't say you were completely wrong, would that we could get away with it," Marna jested as she made towards the door once more, no further delay able to be taken. "Come on then. Father will soon send Jory or Alec for us, and neither of us wants that, do we?"
"No…" Arya pouted.
It was seconds later, and when the two sisters were just making their way out of the door when a horn sounded. The Royal family was spotted, such was the meaning of the horn, and that meant they could delay their descension to the courtyard below no longer. Marna urged Arya along the cold, dimly lit halls of their keep until the two were finally outside once more.
Each was dressed warmly, with thick cloaks and a thick dress beneath those cloaks. Their hair was done up nicely and to a standard that neither girl cared all that much for, and they wore finery the likes of which they had received countless times over for their nameday. All in all, they looked every bit the part of House Stark even if Marna was nought but Marna Snow.
Her father would tell her constantly and whensoever her parentage was brought up; 'You may not have my name, but you have my blood.'
It was never more apparent right then, when he lined up the entirety of his house for the King's arrival, for Marna was one place to the right of Robb. It was rare enough for her to be stood with them for such formal happenings and rarer still that any Nobleman or Lady would mind her any attention save for a few boys that wished to dip their candle. Father would send them away, always, and if not him, Robb would scare them off.
She was precious to them.
"You look lovely," Marna heard from Lady Catelyn.
When she turned to look at the older woman, she saw a wide smile on her face that was distinctly at odds with her father's saddened look and grim expression. Mayhaps even Lady Catelyn wasn't aware of what was happening, or if she was, maybe the one was happy with the developments that would soon make themselves known to the rest of the family. The woman was never horrible to her, there were times she was even caring and gentle… it was nothing horrible, Marna decided, if only judging it by that one metric.
"Thank you, my Lady," Marna returned finally, with a prompt from Robb and a squeeze of her hand from Sansa.
Lady Catelyn smiled politely at her, and with that, silence reigned supreme once more; as good a silence as could be expected on account of hounds and horses.
Gradually, the noise grew and the gates of Winterfell opened. What first greeted her was shock and awe, for the size of the Royal retinue, was far larger than she would have ever thought it to be. In truth, they looked more like a host or invasion force than a visit by the Royal Family.
There were banners of the Targaryen sigil, dozens upon dozens of them with riders all throughout the grouping waving them proudly. The riders that rode at the front wore armour that was likely incredibly expensive, for the helms were the visage of a dragon and the armour was adorned with wings as proud as the sigil they waved. Behind the first six men that rode forth with the Targaryen sigil, was a man that was immediately known to Marna despite her lack of knowledge of the man's appearance.
Rhaegar Targaryen. Mayhaps in another world, he would have been slain or booed as he arrived. Instead, there was silence. No child cheered or look in awe at him, no women swooned and no men grinned at the viewing of their King. He had taken much and more from them, from nearly every family, and yet he had the audacity to show himself to the crowd of Northerners dressed pompously in clothes and armour that were likely more expensive than anything any of the crowd would ever own. That wasn't to mention the large, beautiful and gaudy cabin that trailed behind him with dozens of guards surrounding it; four wore the white of the Kingsguard, betraying what lay within.
The King rode ever closer, his eyes locked on her father with an intensity that rattled her. His gaze was searching and forceful, and in his eyes, she could see the fire that burned within all of that family. Her father, for his part, did not break contact or bow until the man was through the final archway and only then did he — along with everybody else, Marna included — bend their knee to the man that had taken so much from them already.
"Your Grace," Marna heard her father say as the man dismounted with all the grace of a man half his age. He moved closer, flanked by two Kingsguard and within seconds, he stood before her father and the rest of her family.
He was so close that Marna could smell the southron perfumes that he used. It made her wrinkle her nose in distaste.
"Rise, Lord Stark," the King said, his voice hard, mayhaps even filled with the same degree of hatred they felt towards him. "Where is she?"
"Winterfell is you—" her father started, ever the man with formalities, but the King spoke over him, uninterested save for one very specific point.
"Where is she, Lord Stark?" the King demanded as he took one step closer to her father, the man now close enough to her father that their chests were nearly touching.
Her father swallowed and looked to the ground for nought but a moment, and then, he turned towards her and gave a small, nearly resigned gesture. "My daughter, Marna."
At those words, the King looked murderous, and yet, he spoke not another word as he moved past Lady Catelyn and Robb until he stood before her. She didn't look up and into the man's face, she kept her eyes on his shoes. His boots were beautifully made, as was everything else about him. The lower portion of his armour was intricately carved and with words made from rubies that she couldn't begin to und—
"Marna Snow?" the King asked, his voice far more gentle-sounding as he asked to verify her person.
"Yes, Your Grace," Marna answered immediately, her nervousness at the man before her making her nearly stumble on her words; she heard the carriage open and more feet approaching, immediately making her mind go astray.
Are they going to take me? Is it a group of soldiers coming to steal me from father?
"The King asked you a question," came the voice of another man, and before she could let out an answer, the King spoke.
"See to my family, Ser Jaime," said the King, his voice back to being as hard as steel and a moment later, a hand went to the underside of her chin, forcing her to look up and into the eyes of the man that she hated from nought but tales; he had killed and raped her aunt, his father had butchered two members of her family… how was it fair for the Old Gods to let him return to the North once more? "I had asked if I might have a moment of your time so that we might speak."
Again, his voice was soft and caring to her ears. Mayhaps it was all a cruel jest and he was playing a game on her. It would be cruel; it would be Targaryen.
"As you command, Your Grace," Marna responded automatically as his purple eyes met hers. Father often made her avoid eye contact with any and all strangers, for her eye colour, he had said, would draw attention. It wasn't until she saw the man before him that she had seen another similar pair to her own.
His face was pale, very pale, and the expression he wore on it was haunting. It was almost as if he had seen something ghastly. She didn't understand why that would be, save for her bastard status. Perhaps he hadn't meant to touch her so that he might avoid tainting himself.
"It wasn't an order," he finally said, blinking away watery eyes as he nodded towards her family's keep. He turned then so that he could speak to Lord Stark, his voice calm-sounding, and yet, all the angrier. "Our chambers, Lord Stark. We'll speak later."
At those final words, even Marna could hear the threat therein. She resolved there and then to do whatsoever she could so as to spare the Starks from anything that the King might try and subject them to.
"Jory, see the King and his family to their chambers," her Father said, bowing his head once more as the other man moved as commanded to escort the King. The King, for his part, seemed pleased that it would not be her father bringing him to his chambers. Mayhaps the hate that the pair of them felt toward one another was shared more so than first she had thought. If so, it was a wonder that her father had stayed Lord Stark in the first place. Lord Arryn had retained his Lordship too, though in his case, he had lost the title of Warden of the East.
"Come along, Marna," the King said to her when he realised the girl wasn't trailing after her, his voice soft and the smile on his face softer still as he looked at her.
Marna swallowed down her nervousness, clenched her fists and started after the man. She made sure to trail beyond him rather than attempt to stand at his side, but as they progressed, the King slowed his pace so that he might fall into stride with her whilst Jory moved ahead; the Kingsguard, perhaps Ser Jonothor Darry or Ser Loras Tyrell, went to his opposite side.
It must be tough for the King. Father killed Ser Arthur and two others of his Kingsguard, and yet, for the sake of peace, he invaded not through Moat Cailin. Instead, the King allowed her father to bend the knee for peace, and since that time, save for the Greyjoy Rebellion, peace had reigned.
"Aegon, Rhaenys, my Queen," the King said as they made to pass the carriage and the occupants who had only just left the confines of it. "With me. We have much and more to discuss before evening falls and the feast is had."
The Crown Prince and his sister-betrothed each nodded their head once. "Yes, Father," came free from the pairs' lips.
The Queen regarded Marna in silence for a few seconds — long enough to make the girl uneasy — before finally responding with her eyes still on Marna's person. "Finally," was her answer, her tone far lighter and more beautiful sounding than any other voice Marna had ever heard.
Marna swallowed as the three other Royals fell in line behind them. "King Rhaegar? Would you like for me to leave while you speak with your family, Your Grace?"
Instantly, the King vehemently shook his head. "No," he said as soon as she had finished speaking. "I would like very much for you to join us for this conversation… I trust Lord Stark, has told you why we wish to speak?"
She shook her head, and the two other younger folk such as herself regarded her curiously, disregarding their parents. "No, Your Grace."
Quickly, a look filled with disdain fell on the King's face. It was so intense and intimidating despite the man's average build that Marna nearly stepped back so as to escape the ire-filled look. She would have done so too, had it not been for the delicate hand that fell on his shoulder as they continued their journey, the touch nought but a fleeting caress.
"All will be right, finally, my love," the Queen said so as to calm the King before her eyes and attention turned back to Marna. "The King isn't cross with you, child. His anger is directed at yo— Lord Stark, and rightly so. We know by now that the man must be extremely dear to you, and yet, his actions were wrong, if honourable in his own view."
The Crown Prince huffed. "Can't we hurry? All of this anticipation is horrible. Father hasn't told Rhaenys or I a word as to what this journey's for, nor why we're speaking with… with Lady Snow."
The King stopped in his steps and Marna mirrored his action lest she runs into his back. He turned on the heels of his feet and his cold gaze went over the top of Marna and to the boy behind her, his son. "You'll keep quiet and not address Marna until we're in the privacy of the quarters that Stark has provided. If I hear another word of complaint from your lips or that of Rhaenys', you'll be invited to no talks or the feast proper. Least of all the news that is soon to drop throughout the entirety of our realms. Do you understand, both of you?"
Princess Rhaenys with her dark hair, and darker, purple eyes smiled beautifully at the King. "Yes, Father."
The Prince, Aegon, nodded once as his tongue puffed out his upper lip in irritation. "Your word is law, Father."
Had anybody else shown such disrespect to the King, especially where others such as Jory or the two guards they had just passed could witness, they would have found themselves in trouble. As it was, the King shook his head and allowed his Queen to whisper soothing words into his ear. She seemed to keep the peace far more than Marna would have thought… the Crown Prince was lucky to have her on his side.
"We're 'ere, Yer Grace," Jory said, his Northern accent thicker than any other time Marna had heard him speak; she would have laughed had they not been in the presence of the Royal Family.
The King nodded once and pushed open the door, the Queen followed, and so too did the rest of their group of five. Marna took one last fleeting look as Jory idled nearby, his steps not immediately taking him away from the Royals and by extension herself. His look was conflicted as if he too wished to remove her from their presence, and yet, both knew that he could not.
Marna nodded at him, her lips ever so slightly upwards so that he would know it was fine, and with a sorrowful smile back at the girl, he departed. With him gone, Marna finally entered completely into the room, whereupon her doing so the door was immediately closed — and barred — by the Crown Prince upon his Father's orders.
"Please, take a seat," the King said as he gestured to one of the many nearby chairs. "Lord Stark failed to tell you even a word as to why we've come so far. Is that the truth?"
She nodded, suddenly nervous and fidgety as she realised all four Royal pairs of eyes were nought but on her as she said a few feet from them. The King was seated close with the Queen upon his lap, the pair of them were looking at her as if they were attempting to tame a wild beast; their eyes were nervous and pleading, happy and sorrowful, but in the depths of the King's eyes that were so much like her own, she could see unbridled rage. His two children were still silent in their curiosity since their last scolding, but their eyes were still focused solely on her; it was the Princess, Rhaenys, that seemed more interested, more curious.
"You will have words with him later, Rhaegar," the Queen said, her hands wrapped around the man's upper body as she pressed a sweet kiss against his left cheek. "Until that time comes, enjoy the gift you never realised you had."
The King nodded, swallowed, and his eyes went back to Marna. "What I say will not leave the room until my talks with Lord Stark in the evening are concluded — Aegon, Rhaenys, Marna, I'll have you swear it."
Within seconds, all three of the younger persons in the room did just that.
"Marna," the King began as he leaned forward as far as he could with the Queen in his lap. He spoke her voice more sourly this time, the earlier softness and near-affectionate tone somewhat lessened. "Lord Stark never told you the truth of your parentage. He told you not the reason we've come. Simply put, it's for you. When this trip is concluded and we return south in the coming days, perhaps even on the morrow, you will join us."
Marna made to speak, her mouth fell open, but before she could do so she remembered herself and snapped her mouth back so that it was shut. She would not interrupt the King even if that was the very last thing she wished to do. As she had said, whatsoever the Starks needed of some poor bastard girl so that they would be safe, she would see it through. It was the least she could do for them after they had clothed, educated and fed her for ten and five years.
"Wouldn't you like to know why rather than sit in silence, sweet girl?" the Queen asked as she leaned forward, her voice as enchanting as first she had heard it and the smile on her face just as perfect; the woman was truly a Queen.
Mayhaps she's lying to you. Everything they say might be a lie. Don't forget what Father and all of the others have said about House Targaryen.
"If you deem me worthy to know, yes, Your Grace," Marna responded politely, her words flowing automatically lest she forgets herself.
The Queen tapped the King, her eyes never once leaving Marna, and so the King spoke again. His voice was strong even if his face seemed to say that he struggled as he began to speak.
"You aren't a bastard anymore than your name is Marna," the King said as he shook his head and pointed to her hair. "Do you know who Lord Varys is?"
Hesitatingly, Marna — she would always be Marna no matter what he said — nodded. "He's your spymaster, Your Grace."
The King smiled. "He is," he said, confirming what she already knew as he swallowed again and rubbed at his eyes. "It was thanks to him that we learned about you. You were late one day when you were meant to dye the colour of your hair, and upon further songs being sung it was he that learned of your eyes — they're the same as mine own, the same as Aegon's and Rhaenys'."
Rhaenys, as the King spoke of her, seemed to understand what he was implying and she gasped. One hand immediately went to cover her mouth as she fell back and into the side of her brother. He looked confused, his brows were furrowed and still, he held the Princess close.
Marna was with him; the King needed to speak clearly rather than point out her physical traits.
The Queen seemed to pick up on that and with a tap on his shoulder, she said as much. "Speak plainly, husband. Can't you see the poor thing's confused and nervous? She thinks the King and his family might do something untoward to her. You haven't heard much about us that's very good, have you, my sweet?"
At the Queen's words, Marna felt her cheeks flush, for the woman had guessed exactly how she felt. Much and more she had heard about the Targaryens, and very little, if any at all, had been pleasant. That the woman had said as much with the entirety of her family present did little to ease Marna's fears.
The King, thankfully, saved her from having to answer. "Lord Stark is not your father, nor is any whore or tavern wench your mother," he swallowed and rubbed at his eyes once more before, finally, dropping a revelation that Marna instantly didn't believe. "You have my hair and eyes for nought but one reason — you are my daughter. Lord Stark stole you from me, and the Gods stole your mother from our family."
Marna shook her head but didn't speak. She had his hair and that of the Prince's, that was true, and so too did they all share their eyes save for the Queen, but that was nought but two traits that they had in common. The Targaryens weren't the only family with those traits either, so perhaps her Father ha—
"You are," the King said again. "You were born to me and the second woman that I loved as equally as the first. Lyanna Stark. Your name is not Marna Snow, but Visenya Targaryen. All of these years, Stark has kept you hidden from me. It was a mummer's farce for ten and five years. For all of them, he's had you kept from your family and forced you into the life of a bastard girl. There will be much and more he owes for doing so."
"No!" Marna exclaimed with her eyes wide at her outburst; she saw nought the expressions that the King's children wore, Marna only saw the sad expression on the Queen's face and the rage, finally released in all of its fury, on the King's face. "Please, Your Grace. Please don't punish my Father. He's a ki—"
The King's eyes flashed and finally, he stood up from his seat and made the Queen do the same lest she fell. "You will not call that man Father ever again, Visenya," he seemed to relax for a moment when that name was said, but he continued all the same after that fleeting moment. "You are Visenya Targaryen, the youngest of my three children and a Princess of the realm. Much and more will you learn as we return to whence we belong, but if I could have one matter be made abundantly clear, 'tis that the Starks of Winterfell have never been your siblings or parents. Eddard Stark is a thief and nought but your Uncle and his children, unknowing accomplices and cousins. You should have been raised alongside your siblings."
Marna made to speak again, but before she could do so, two arms encircled her and the warmth of a body pressing against her own shocked her into silence.
"Little sister," it was the voice of Princess Rhaenys as she held Marna tight, her voice thick with emotion and a growing wetness pooling atop her head. "Father has told us that you were always meant to be. You were meant to be with us, you were meant to be the…" Rhaenys trailed off and sniffled, falling into silence as she began to weep while holding her.
Truthfully, Marna didn't know how to react. She wished to push the girl away, but for many reasons, she could not. All that she could do while the Prince looked at her, his face as conflicted as the King's, was to speak to the latter man.
"Your Grace, I… there's been a mistake," she tried, but he shook his head.
"No, sweet girl, there has not. You are my daughter, these are your siblings, and your place in the world is that of a Princess," he finally closed in on her, and in doing so, Marna closed her eyes; she didn't wish to see him, the others or to hear their words any longer, for as they spoke and the intensity of their emotions… she began to believe them. "I've dreamt of you, Visenya. You were always meant to be, and unknowingly for years as they've passed, you were here and the dreams knew all along. We'll finally be whole again."
With that, he hugged her, and tears freely fell from the Targaryens as the Queen and finally, the Prince joined in. Marna wasn't free of their sadness, affection and weeping for nearly half an hour, and when that time finally came, there was more that they wished to speak about.
Had she known this is how the evening would have gone… fleeing might not have been far from what she had done, and yet, even now, she knew that would mean the Starks were condemned. If only for them, she would play the part of 'Visenya Targaryen'. If it meant her Father, her siblings and the North were safe, she would play her part in this mummer's farce.