Reviews make me write faster! I use the quatermaester interactive game of thrones map when writing.

Thank you for being patient. March and April were spent attempting to replicate Renly's success with a black and gold election victory. Two months of brutal campaigning resulted in net gains of over 400 councillors for the Liberal Democrats. A result so good that it broke the news sites election swingometers, which topped out at 400 Rest assured as soon as the results were in, and I'd enjoyed family time at the coronation parties for King Charles III, I dove straight back into writing. Unfortunately I also decided to go climb a mountain and spend a couple of weeks nephew wrangling, which delayed things! I hope you enjoy the results

Jon Snow

Fear and anger warred in Jon's heart in equal measure as he hurried through the expansive wine cellars and winter stores of Highgarden, torch held aloft to cast flickering light between vault after vault of barrels, casks, crates, and sacks.

"You're certain she said it was the western end?" the Bastard of Winterfell snarled at Edric.

The young Lord of Starfall cowered and nodded meekly, his own torch shaking under Jon's furious gaze as Syrio Florel looked on, frowning.

"That was where she said she found King Renly seated between barrels of wine in the dark. She said it helped him when he found the game of thrones too overwhelming."

"Would the girl be likely to imitate someone who has caused her such distress? I am wondering?" Syrio murmured quietly.

"She has to have, she isn't anywhere else in the castle." Jon clung to that thought with the desperation of a man possessed. If his little sister had left the castle proper, if she'd ventured through the gatehouse into the central ring, then anything could have happened to her. No matter how fierce she was, she was still a little girl, and the world was not kind.

"I think this is more likely than leaving the castle proper." Edric whispered hesitantly.

Even the sound of the Dornish boy's contrition wasn't enough to smother Jon's anger. "I don't want to hear your thoughts! You should have had some when she convinced you to help her get passed me so she could go spying! Do you realise she could be in chains in the dungeon right now if she was caught?!"

"The Blushing Wolf exaggerates." Syrio spoke calmly, placing a hand on Edric's shoulder protectively. "The king, even if he would not hesitate to make his displeasure known, would, at worst, confine the girl to a high tower. The girl is not there, so the girl remains uncaught."

The argument on Jon's lips died as the light from another torch filtered in from the corridor, approaching at a speed too quick to be a servant looking for a specific foodstuff.

He let his held breath out in relief as Satin appeared at the door, his own torch held aloft.

"Anything?" Jon questioned the pretty young Reachman.

"Nothing." Satin answered, panting lightly from striding so fast. "The servants haven't seen any sign of her since yesterday. But I've planted a few whispers to make it look like she's just skipping today's lessons, rather than been missing since last night."

"Thank you." Jon whispered, some of his fear turning to relief as smiled at Satin.

"Has there been any sign?" His pretty friend asked worriedly.

"Nothing." Jon muttered bitterly, shooting a glare at Edric who ducked his head in shame.

Satin's temper flared protectively. "Enough Jon, he was helping his betrothed. Men have done far worse when led around by their hearts or cocks. Reserve your anger for your sister."

Before Jon could growl a challenge to Satin's defence of Edric the young scribe continued on. "The Arbor Ruby wine is stored in this section of the cellars, it's His Grace's favourite. If Lord Tyrell was showing off how much of it he had, then it's a vault the king would know the way too."

Jon breathed slowly and deep until his indignation passed, then he gestured with his torch.

Satin turned back into the main corridor and led them deeper into the maze of vaults. It would have taken them at least another hour of searching until they came to the one he chose, opening the oak door into a vault filled with wine barrels.

Edric shot passed him into the vault before Jon could say a word, then gasped.

Jon hurried after the young lord.

"Arya." Jon whispered, taking in the sight of his sister.

She was in the riding leathers Edric had said she had left her room in the night before, but had drawn her knees up to her chest and hidden her face in them.

At the sound of his voice her head shot up, but rather than relief her grey eyes filled with tears at the sight of him and his little sister began sobbing.

Pushing Edric out of the way non too gently Jon knelt down next to the crying little girl and gathered her into his arms. "Shhhhh little sister, it's alright. I've got you. Everything will be alright."

"It won't be!" Arya choked out. "Just ice and death, that's all that's going to happen. Just ice and death and the end of everything and you're not even my brother!"

Jon's heart was suddenly in his mouth.

'It matters not that my sister bore you rather than I sired you, as all believe. You are my blood Jon. Never forget that.'

The words of Eddard Stark came back to him as Arya took his lack of protest as conformation and she descended back into tears, trying to fight her way out of his embrace.

Jon simply held her loosely until she stopped struggling, his mind racing to try and make sense of what she'd said. Eventually the little she-wolf stopped sobbing and Jon tilted her head up to look at him as he gently brushed her tears away with his thumbs.

"I am your blood Arya, and nothing can ever change that. Now, little sister, tell me everything."

Ronnet Connington

Ronnet staggered down into the Inn's main room, the whore he'd spent the night with slipping out the door.

As soon as he sank into a chair facing Elwood Harte he found himself subjugated to the Crownlander's disapproving glare.

"King Robert spent most of the Battle of the Bells hiding in the biggest brothel here. Don't judge me for wanting a little company to soothe the pain of that massacre we rode into."

"Knowingly rode into." The Knight of Hartfield reproached bitterly. "Lord Renly warned us about the Mummers Ford and we still rode headfirst into the trap."

Indignant anger flared in Ronnet's chest. It was only the knowledge of how childish it would sound if spoken aloud that stopped him from growling out that that wasn't a fair charge. Lord Renly's – King Renly's now – warning shouldn't have still been valid after so long chasing the Mountain around the Riverlands. The fog of war should have made it obsolete, anyone with any knowledge of war should understand that. But they'd all conveniently forget it as soon as the reports of the ambush reached the royal court. All anyone would be willing to see was that Renly Baratheon warned them, and he, Ronnet Connington, had ignored that warning and led the King's men to disaster anyway."

The Knight of Griffin's Roost grabbed the mug of weak ale the serving girl offered and attempted to quench the fire of bitterness in his breast. "Did anyone else arrive overnight? And how're Gladden and Lothar holding up?"

"None. It would seem that all who can or intend to make it here to Stony Sept have done so. To death or desertion we've lost nearly half of our number, only twenty-and-two-hundred men remain to us." The head of House Harte sighed and ran his fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "The Darry men all died with Ser Raymun, and only three and twenty of the Holy Hundred remain after the death of Ser Bonifer. Most of the Baratheon guard contingent Elwood Meadows was given followed him into death along with that red priest we left with him to try and stiffen his spine. My own, Lord Mallery's, and the Stark's contingent are relatively unscathed, as are your own men. Though the lance Lothar took to the shoulder when the Lannisters tried to ride him down in the retreat will stop him riding and fighting at the same time for weeks to come. Ser Gladden has lost most of his men, but small mercies the cut across his face when his lost his helm seems not to have festered and the local master stitched his nose back together. The rest of our number are made up of the Baratheon guard survivors, most from the contingent that was given to you to command."

"We need to get back out there." Ronnet muttered, returning the glares of men supporting injuries twofold as he stared around the inn they had taken over.

Ser Elwood blanched before speaking very forcefully. "We can't Red! The Mountain has returned to the main Lannister host! They've already sacked Pinkmaiden and dragged Lord Piper and his youngest out of their hiding place in the hills." The Crownlands knight steadied his breath before continuing. "The shame of failure bites deep, I know, I feel it too. But if you wish to ride against twenty thousand men with two hundred rather than face it you'll find none of those two hundred willing to stand with you."

Again Ronnet's temper flared and he resisted the urge to throw his ale in the sanctimonious cunts face. What did Elwood Harte know of shame and failure? His house had always been landed knights. Not like House Connington. His house had been lords once, full lords, and one of the most powerful houses of the Stormlands at that. Now look at them. Nine tenths of their lands given away to others and their title reduced to that of landed knight. Forced to sit below and wait on those who should be, who were and still are in truth their inferiors.

Inferiors who would laugh themselves sick at Ronnet's failure. Powerful lords, minor lords, mere lordlings and landed knights would be laughing at him. Only success and glory could force Renly Baratheon to reverse even part of the punishment his sword swallowing cunt of an Uncle Jon had brought down on all their heads chasing after Rhaegar Targaryen like a bitch in heat.

"I have no intention of deliberately riding into the Stranger's embrace." The Knight of Griffin's Roost managed to spit out between his grinding teeth. "There's the second group of Lannister raiders we can go after. Amory Lorch may not be the Mountain That Rides, but enough people want his head that getting it for them may overshadow our…misjudgement at the ford."

"The tales of continuing raiding do indicate that those southeastern raiders haven't been recalled to the main host like the Mountain's northwestern ones were." Ser Elwood allowed. "But there's no proof that Lorch leads them."

"Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch are Tywin's twin mad dogs. Who else would he have given the command to raid without banners to?" Ronnet countered.

The Crownlander opposite accepted the point and pulled a map out of his breast pocket, spreading it out before pointing to the V of Riverlands and Crownlands territory formed by the Blackwater Rush and the God's Eye River. "Lorch or not, they've been raiding this area for some time and there's no word of them coming back towards us."

"Which means that with Tywin following the Trident, those raiders likely intend to cross the God's Eye River before raiding north along the southeastern bank of the God's Eye towards Maidenpool." Ronnet calculated.

"I agree." Elwood Harte muttered, staring at the map and so missing the look of contempt Ronnet shot at him. He hadn't been asking for a second opinion. "They're unlikely to cross at the Rolling Ford. It's too deep into the Crownlands and the Goldroad is too well travelled. Whoever commands would never be able to keep control of the brigands for so long in friendly territory. So, they have to cross here, at Edenbridge."

Ronnet frowned as the Crownlands knight pointed to the village right at the beginning of the God's Eye River. "There's no other crossing before the Goldroad crossing at Rolling Ford?"

"None." Ser Elwood confirmed. "The God's Eye River falls too far too fast until it meets the Blackwater, it's close to a gorge for most of its length. Any attempt at a bridge has been washed away in the floods when the channel turns into a raging torrent. The only one that's survived is at its source at Edenbridge, where the river is still more lake than river in truth."

"Very well." Ronnet muttered determined. "Lets wake the others and start gathering the men and seeing to supplies. I want to be riding for Edenbridge before midday."

"Several of the men can barely ride, let alone fight!" Ser Elwood exclaimed in shock.

"If they can ride they need to be ready to ride out, if they can't we're leaving them here." Ronnet Connington dismissed contemptuously, staring down the Crownlands knight. "Our prize isn't escaping us a second time."

Jon Snow

Jon barely managed to remember to step to the side as the massed gathering of lords walking casually down the hill came upon him.

Thankfully he did, and so mere dirty looks were all that came is way as the gaggle of highborn continued back towards Highgarden.

Once they had passed, Jon resumed his ascent to King Renly's verdant green pavilion which sat alone atop the hill. Well out of earshot of anyone even halfway up and surrounded by only the Kingsguard and Rainbow Guard.

Ser Balon Swann stopped him some way from the summit, the pavilion silent to their ears despite the discussions undoubtably going in inside. "His Grace does not wish to be disturbed. Not by anyone."

Jon clenched his fists. "The war council has ended. I need to see him."

"Perhaps," the Stormlands Kingsguard allowed, the swan wings of his helm glowing yellow as they reflected the sun, "but many people need to see the king. You are among the lowest of them. Do not forget that."

The reminder was kindly voiced, and a part of Jon appreciated the knight's attempt to stop a young man he was fond of from making a mistake that could cost him his head.

The greater part of him roared in injustice and indignation.

"Not as lowly as many think." Jon replied cuttingly. "I need to see him, and he will want to see me once he knows why. I'm certain of it."

"Careful. You may have been knighted but that means little in the company assembled here. Breathe, calm yourself, and think again. You can still walk away Jon. I won't say a word." The gallant knight's expression turning stony even as his tone remained kind.

Jon Snow tried to swallow his anger. Ser Balon had done nothing to deserve it. Indeed, he was trying far harder than Jon had expected to save him from himself. If he didn't know what Arya knew, it would have been necessary too. "And I thank you for it Ser, but I'm sure. Tell him it's about the Battle of Winterfell."

"As much as His Grace loves ancient history this is hardly the time…." Ser Balon trailed off. But when Jon remained unmoved, he simply sighed. "Very well. I hope you know what you're doing."

Ser Robar Royce of the Rainbow guard took Ser Balon's place as he strode up the hill to the pavilion. Unlike the Stormlands knight, he had no compunction at sneering down at someone he saw as a jumped-up bastard.

"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!" The furious scream of Renly Baratheon could no doubt be heard halfway down the hill and beyond. It was certainly clear to those near the summit. For the first time Jon felt a trickle of fear even as the King's voice lost some of its volume. "How in all Seven Hells did he…no…you know what? I don't care…just GET HIM IN HERE!"

Ser Robar was subtly moving away, as if Jon himself was carrying the plague, when Ser Balon strode out of the pavilion straight down towards them. Stonefaced he simply nodded. "His Grace will see you now."

Fear growing stronger as it pooled in his belly, Jon made an effort to let none of it show as he strode forward to ascend the hill. He was stopped by Ser Balon's strong grip on his arm as he tried to pass.

"I know not what you have done to anger him, but I will take no chances with His Grace's safety. Your sword."

Had it been Robar Royce Jon would have fought, instead he undid his swordbelt and slammed it into Ser Balon's chest plate, snarling at the insult. All fear gone.

The Stormlands Kingsguard remained stonefaced as he took Jon's sword and released his arm, gesturing up the hill and ignoring the Northman's anger.

The Bastard of Winterfell ascended in silence before ducking through the entrance and finding himself facing King Renly, Lady Margaery and all her brothers, and the Lord of Horn Hill. All of whom were staring at him in silence.

"Perhaps, Your Grace, I might offer my advice on whatever the bastard has found in such an ancient battle." Randyll Tarly spoke quietly, breaking the silence as he addressed the king. Though he never turned his face from Jon.

The Bastard of Winterfell fought not to break his stance when faced with a gaze that was somehow even more intimidating than his father's.

"Don't try and redirect my anger Randyll, you're on very thin ice yourself." Renly Baratheon hissed at the Lord of Horn Hill. "Do you have any other questions?"

The weathered old lord looked into Jon's eyes and sneered. It was quite clear that if he did have any questions, he certainly wasn't going to voice them in front of the newly minted knight.

"None, Your Grace."

"Good, then choose your men and be ready to leave at first light tomorrow."

Lord Tarly reared back in shock as Jon felt his mouth fall open. "Y-Your Grace! The coronation!"

Jon watched in horror as King Renly, handsome and broad shouldered though he was, stared down the weathered and muscular old battle commander that looked like he could break him in half with little effort.

"Your behaviour when I did not choose you for a full battle command was so far over the line you couldn't see it from atop the Hightower with a Myrish far eye Randyll!" King Renly hissed, leaning heavily on his hands as he loomed over the table. "Look me in the eye and tell me you would still respect me if I let any other lord get away with such insult as you gave and I will reconsider."

The stories Jon had heard about Randyll Tarly had called him many things, harsh least among them, but they had never claimed him to be a liar.

The Lord of Horn Hill looked away.

"You will swear your allegiance at the evening meal tonight and depart on your task at first light tomorrow. Your absence from the swearing ceremony at the coronation will be censure enough. A reminder to all that sometimes doing nothing is the most difficult thing of all to do. Often when it is the most necessary thing to do." The king snarled before sighing as he sat back down. "This brings me no pleasure Randyll, and once you have departed I will both forgive and forget the insult. It does little good, for anyone, to linger on passed slights once they have been addressed. But they must be addressed first."

The Lord of Horn Hill looked like he was chewing a lemon. But nevertheless he still stood and bowed. "Your restraint is taken in the manner it was intended Your Grace. With your leave I will begin gathering my men."

King Renly simply nodded, and the Lord of Horn Hill swept swiftly out of the pavilion.

As soon as he was gone the king closed his eyes and began massaging his forehead.

"You have caused my betrothed some distress Ser Jon." Lady Margery smiled, making Jon's heart beat a little faster even as instincts honed by detecting Lady Stark's moods screamed she was dangerous.

"Quite. It would seem that your role as glorified door guard was vital indeed brother." Ser Garlan smirked at Ser Loras.

"It certainly seems I was better at it than I was at teaching my squire to follow orders. Tell me Jon, did you forget the part when you were supposed to keep your charge inside the room you were guarding?" Ser Loras snarled, advancing until Jon took a step back involuntary.

"Arya had nothing to do with this." He denied quickly.

Ser Garlan snorted and Jon felt himself blush at the fact his lie was so easily seen through.

"Next time we have a secret meeting.." King Renly muttered, now massaging his closed eyes… "I am putting that girl in a barrel in the cellar and nailing the fucking lid shut till we've finished!"

Ser Garlan and Ser Loras roared with laughter.

Jon himself nearly called the young king every name under the sun, but the diamond sharp gaze and raised eyebrow of Lady Margaery made him swallow his anger and remain silent.

It made him do nothing.

"You see, he is capable of learning." Ser Garlan smirked, said smirk turning almost prideful as Jon ground his teeth rather than respond.

"Perhaps, Your Grace, you would enlighten me why you decided not to discuss the return of the Others and the coming of the Long Night with me?" Jon spat out his accusation in the most courtly language he could manage.

Renly Baratheon's blue-green eyes snapped open and Jon inhaled sharply as he noted a hardness that wasn't usually present.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise that Lord Eddard had raised you above Robb and made you his heir." King Renly spoke harshly, his tone as cold as Winterfell's summer snows.

"You know he has not." Jon growled in reply, fury still burning.

"No? You have usurped Lord Eddard then? It is you that Winterfell proclaims as its Lord and Warden of the North? I confess I must have missed the raven."

"My father remains Lord of Winterfell and my brother his heir." Jon snapped, as embarrassed as he was furious. But fear was also beginning to return to his mind. In the face of King Renly's questions, the ground felt unstable beneath his feet for the first time since he stormed out of Arya's chambers after seeing her safely back there.

"Then why the fuck would I talk to you about a world ending threat to the North before my Warden of the North?" King Renly hissed, throwing himself to his feet.

"Your Grace." Lady Margery demurred, reaching out. But Renly Baratheon shrugged off her hand and advanced, stopping only when he was nose to nose with the Bastard of Winterfell.

Jon stepped back again and suddenly felt his ass hit the table. There was nowhere to retreat to as King Renly crossed his arms and stared.

"I thought we had dealt with this sense of entitlement Jon. So I will give you a chance. Why should I have spoken with this of you before my Warden and his heir?"

Jon suddenly felt his anger leaving him at the worst possible moment, leaving only fear and embarrassment behind. King Renly's face wasn't scrunched up and red as King Robert's had been when he had bellowed his anger for the whole Red Keep to hear. But the cold sneer and raised eyebrow, the hard expression, and the hint of cruelty around blue-green eyes, the furious hiss, all were suddenly far more terrifying than the fat old king's rages had ever been.

"I….I…I am of the North." Jon stammered, suddenly feeling as if he were atop Winterfell's Broken Tower and the whole rotten structure was giving way beneath him. "I have a right to know of threats to my home and…"

"Mira Forrester is also of the North!" The King cut him off cruelly. "The danger to your home is a danger to hers also. Shall I call her here and share my most secret information with her?! There are villages in the path of my army that are sure to be in danger with my approach. Shall I summon their villagers to court and share with them my battle plans?!"

"I…I…I know my father and brother's mind well and could offer v-v-valuable council." Jon spoke quietly, barely above a whisper.

"So you would seek to control who I seek council from now as well? Have I named you Hand? Garlan, you haven't passed off the position to this landless knight before us have you? I think I would've remembered replacing you."

"I have not, Your Grace." Ser Garlan snapped, all trace of humour gone from his face and voice.

"I…I…I…I…" Jon floundered, suddenly completely unable to form words and feeling as if he was drowning despite being so far from the Mander.

"Darling, that's enough." Lady Margery intervened, moving to take Jon's arm. "I'm sure Ser Jon realises that he has overstepped."

It took everything Jon had not to lean into the future queen's side and hide behind her shield. It was only a memory that gave him the strength to resist, a memory of the man before him, his expression far kinder, with the ghost of his hand on Jon's shoulder.

'Most men would deny a hard truth rather than face it.'

"Margery we're so far passed overstepped we might as well be in Quarth!" Renly Baratheon snapped at his betrothed.

"Nevertheless I think that…"

"I apologise unreservedly, Your Grace." Jon gabbled quickly, cutting off Lady Margery before he lost his nerve. "You terrified Arya and I let my anger at that control me. I dishonoured my father, my brother, and my family, I throw myself on your mercy."

Jon watched, frozen, as Renly Baratheon and Margery Tyrell seemed to have an argument using only their eyes. Something he'd only seen Father and Lady Stark do before.

Finally, King Renly threw his hands up in the air and roared in exasperation, storming away and beginning to pace around the pavilion. Which at least meant he was no longer making Jon feel like a particularly stupid rat cornered by a direwolf. ""Of course I terrified her you idiot! This is the sort of knowledge that sees men break and loose themselves in drink while awaiting the end they know is inevitable! Or jump off towers rather than wait for its arrival! Which is but one of the reasons she was never supposed to know it! Arya is but two-and-ten, forget terrified, I'm amazed she still has the power of speech and isn't making a noose out of her fucking bedclothes! Her being even vaguely functional is a fucking gods given miracle!"

"Perhaps this is a lesson that you can impart to your darling sister, Ser Jon." Lady Margaery smiled kindly as she tugged a little tighter on his arm, eyes flicking to her betrothed in what appeared to be warning. "If a lady listens at keyholes, she must be prepared to hear things she would rather not know."

"I will collect my sister and leave your court at once Your Grace." Jon whispered, staring at his feet. "We have no right to impose on your hospitality any longer."

"You two are not going anywhere." The king snapped, still pacing.

Jon suddenly felt his heart drop into his boots. He knew that both he and Arya had forfeited guest right. They had committed such grievous insult that to be thrown in the dungeons was one of the lightest punishments that they could reasonably expect. And yet….it still hurt, to be treated as prisoners by a man that they had both come to care for. It still felt like a betrayal, even if it was justified. Just as it had to learn he was keeping secrets about their home.

Jon breathed deeply, trying to keep his voice from shaking. Renly Baratheon was not their father, nor their uncle or aunt. He had no obligation to continue to hold affection for them when they raised his ire with betrayals and insult. both he and Arya must face that truth in a manner befitting the blood of House Stark. "We are prisoners then?"

"Don't be ridiculous." King Renly snarled. "You aren't prisoners, you can leave whenever you want. But if you take that little girl out into a war-torn Westeros alone I will make sure to join your brothers pissing on whatever ditch you ended up in when her raped and rotting corpse is discovered."

It took everything Jon had not to strike the king at the blinding fury that filled him at the suggestion. Especially as his instincts screamed that it was true. He could likely make it to Robb, though truthfully there was more doubt in even that statement than he wanted to contemplate. But Arya, even dressed as a boy, would attract attention.

Bandits and raiders would litter their route with abandon, to say nothing of at least three armies, and while he could fight and run, Arya could not run for long. Nor could she fight a ruthless bandit with more than a passing chance at victory. She would make him a target, bandits knowing he would have to protect her as well as himself and thus see both of them as easy prey when they would have let him pass if he were alone.

And if one of such animals of men decided that it had been so long since their last raid that a hairless boy was close enough to a woman's cunt to enjoy, then the best his little sister could hope for was to die quickly. For the rest would not hold back when the truth of her sex was discovered.

"Mayaps Your Grace would provide an escort? For my sister's sake?" Jon stammered, the sheer audacity of asking burning his pride and sense of justice. But he would do and suffer far worse to see Arya home safely.

King Renly looked like he was about to explode. But Lady Margaery once again pulled Jon close to her side.

"It is both sweet and right for you to care for your sister so Jon. But the Stark's haven't bent the knee to my betrothed. How can we justify asking men who have to ride out and die in her defence? To spend time and resources protecting those who have not taken the oath deserving that protection over sending them to protect those that have?"

Jon closed his eyes as the future queen's words, so kindly delivered, drove a knife into his heart harder than the cruellest of insults.

"But…but we have forfeited guest right and earned your anger. How can we trust we will be safe here? That we won't be thrown in a cell as hostages at any moment?" Jon struggled to give voice to his fear.

"Oh my sweet summer child. Did you think my holding you in high regard would have protected you from a fate I deem necessary?" The Bastard of Winterfell shuddered as King Renly smiled at him. It was a cold smile, absent of even the false warmth the king projected when proclaiming judgement and punishment of those who had earned his ire.

"But…" Jon stammered, his heart dropping into his boots.

"I'm sure you would fight to protect your friends, or those you are fond of. But a king has no such luxury, especially not when facing a threat like this." Renly Baratheon strode over to Jon and grabbed his chin, forcing the young knight to look at him as he stared into his eyes. "Mark my words Jon and mark them well. As king my duty is to make sure as many people as possible survive the coming Long Night. Not to make sure my friends live as long as possible. I may sit back and watch the world end in ice and death rather than sacrifice Loras, or Margaery, or my child, but that is all. Everyone else is expendable, no matter how dear to me they are."

Jon could barely breathe as the king hissed in his face. "While normally the ends never justify the means, given that the threat facing us will see the death of all mankind if it succeeds anything is justified if it helps us survive. It doesn't matter if I care for you or not. It wouldn't matter if you my dearest friend in the world. I am king, I have a duty. If sending you to the Wall would help us survive the Others' assault, I would do it. I would regret it, if you held my regard, but I would do it nonetheless. Just as I would send you to the headsman's block, to your Aunt Daenerys to marry, fuck, or kill, or to a pleasure house in Lys to be a fuck toy for magisters till your death if she really wanted to make you suffer and had something I needed. If it helped us defeat the Others, I would do any of them. Do you understand?"

King Renly let go of Jon's chin, but the young Northman still stared at him in shock. Utter horror infusing every part of his being.

"So how can you trust me?" The question from the king struck Jon like a whip.

"W-what?"

"I've just told you that holding my regard will not save you from many grizzly fates Jon, and you've forfeited it anyway. So how can you trust me with your life? With your sister's life?"

"I-I-I"

"You have the pieces. Stop. Breathe. Think. Don't let your emotions control you. Put them together. You know my goals, how do they relate to you? Can you trust me?"

Jon did as he was bid. Breathing deeply, casting his mind back to their flight from King's Landing, considering the words of wisdom King Renly had seen fit to teach him. The answer would surely be there.

Once you know what your bannermen want, and remember your father's second flaw means he often doesn't, you have to work your strategy so that your bannermen following you and doing as you command will give them what they want. It may take time, it may mean a lot of actions they dislike along the way, but if you do it right, they will put up with both of those things and stay loyal to you.

"When you have found out what your followers want, and found a way to align your interests with them, you must then explain the mission, the end goal. Most importantly, you can't just say it once as your father does. You have to repeat it, over and over, and make sure people understand why it has to be done, because it doesn't matter if you have aligned your interests with your bannermen if you never tell them how following you will get them what they want."

"When someone wavers despite your constant repetition, you need to paint a vivid picture of what they stand to lose. People aren't logical, they don't respond to a dry list of facts. Listen to what they are telling you and use it to paint a picture of heaven if they follow your plan, and hell if they don't."

The realisation struck Jon like one of Ser Loras' well-placed lances.

"I can trust you." The Bastard of Winterfell breathed in shock, barely daring to believe it. "I want my family safe and whole, with vengeance for Father's imprisonment and the slaughter of his household. You want to survive the Others, which means a strong and unified North as that is where they will strike. And the North knows no lord but the Lord of Winterfell – who's name is Stark. So you need House Stark to be strong, united, and loyal to you. Which means giving us safety and vengeance as loyalty freely given is always stronger than loyalty compelled. As long as my father and Robb love us, and you need their full support, we are safe."

Renly Baratheon gave a very small smile, but unlike his others so far this was genuine and filled with warmth. Something that made Jon feel pride despite himself.

"Well done." Lady Margaery whispered in his ear, making him blush.

"Indeed, if only thinking could be that which you resort to first, rather than resentment and entitlement." The king stated calmly, his smile gone.

Jon felt a little confidence and defiance fill him even as the warm glow wilted. He took a moment to stop and think before deciding to follow through on turning the king's words against him. "In that vein Your Grace, I regret that neither I nor Arya can swear allegiance tomorrow. To do so would be to undermine House Stark. With Father imprisoned we must wait for Robb's decision; we have no right to strip the choice of who's claim to the Iron Throne to support from him."

The smirk that made its way onto his face was definitely dangerous, but Jon found himself unable to stop it. But instead of the fury he expected, King Renly sent him another genuine smile.

"Keep thinking like that and you will find that regaining my regard is not as an impossible task as you suppose Jon. Difficult, yes. But far from impossible." The youngest Baratheon brother remarked, making the warm glow of pride begin to pool in Jon's belly again.

Jon decided to begin work on that task at once. Being at odds with King Renly felt as wrong as being at odds with Maester Luwin or Ser Roderick did. "What would you have me do Your Grace?"

King Renly sighed and stat back down. "Keeping Arya here would smack too much of keeping her hostage with how the Lannisters are keeping Sansa in King's Landing by force of arms. Even if she were able to write a letter well enough to convince Robb she was here willingly, it's still not a parallel I want the Lords of the North to draw. After the coronation I'm sending her by ship to Starfall with Edric so that she can learn about the seat of her betrothed and learn more of what it will mean for her to rule them. Syrio will accompany her as a guard, as will you."

If Jon felt his stomach plummet at the thought of his little sister marrying it was nothing to what came when the Heir of Highgarden spoke up.

"I will be coming with you to continue Arya and your magic lessons." Willas Tyrell said calmly. "And to help you refine the story of being a Dayne bastard with those present."

Amongst all the thoughts of ice and death the realisation that King Renly knew the truth of his birth had passed Jon by. Now it hit like a bucket of water to the face.

"I-I…I would be grateful my lord. I would like to spare my mother's memory the shame, as Lady Ashara was willing to bear it in her place." Jon spoke quietly, still new to thinking of Lady Lyanna as his mother. "I thank you for being willing to keep my family's secret."

"Don't be. It may yet benefit us to reveal it, so be prepared to face the truth before all of Westeros even as you move to bury it deeper."

Jon barely managed to swallow the panic at the thought of seeing his sainted 'aunt's' memory destroyed before all of Westeros before Lady Margery tugged on his arm again. "Do not think your mother felt shame when she looked at you my dear. She loved you fiercely."

"H-How do you know?" Jon stammered desperately, staring into Lady Margaery's soft brown eyes.

"Because she used the last of her life to beg her brother to see to your safety." The beautiful woman replied, reaching out and fussing with Jon's hair just as Lady Stark often did to Robb. "Some women who are raped and left with child find a way to ensure they never birth it. Or see to its disappearance one way or the other once it's born. I do not judge them, for a terrible crime has been done to them and they should not be forced to bear the consequences they never wanted and tried to stop. But others…."

The queen-to-be cupped one side of Jon's face with her soft hand. "Others take vicious pleasure that the child they bore is an insult to the one who did such a terrible thing to them. Your sire wanted a bastard girl to join House Targaryen and recreate the trio of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives. Your mother delivered you, a boy every bit the Stark in looks, who claims that House as his only kin, and who claims as Father a man who helped cast down your sire and the entire Targaryen dynasty. You are your mother's revenge on the monster that wronged her so with every breath you take Jon. She loved you so much, and she would be so proud of you."

Jon blinked back tears, barely able to keep himself together as Lady Margaery tugged him towards the pavilion's entrance. "Come, let's go and tell your sister of her travel plans and offer her comfort. With the terrible knowledge she is now burdened with she will be in sore need of it."

Renly Baratheon

There was silence in the pavilion for some time after Margaery led Jon away and back down the hill towards Highgarden.

"Well, I think the bridle is well and truly on that particular stallion Your Grace." Willas remarked cheerfully, raising his glass of lemonwater.

Loras pouted miserably. "I still don't know what your plans are for him."

"No one does brother." Garlan spoke up calmly.

"Not even Margaery?" Loras snarked.

I cupped the beautiful knight's face with one hand and made him look at me.

"Not even her." I whispered, leaning in to steal a soft kiss.

"Well. I suppose I can wait and see then." Loras smiled, mollified.

"Good." I replied, rubbing my thumb along his cheekbone. "Now come on. We all have a coronation and wedding rehearsal to get to."

"Ugh. Do we have to?" Loras whined.

"The dam things five hours long and I don't want to make a complete fool of myself in front of the entire nobility of the Reach by not knowing where to stand at the various steps. Do you?"

"So why doesn't Margaery have to go?" Loras whined, still mutinous even as he watched Willas and Garlan stand to join us.

"Because she's arranged the whole ceremony my love. If she doesn't know the whole thing upside down and back to front, we've all had it."

Loras Tyrell

Loras was well aware that if anyone looked into the king's chambers they would think him mad. Hugging his knees to him the young Tyrell knight had spent most of the night watching his love's eyes dance behind their closed lids. Trying, somehow, to discern what was going on in his love's mind. Trying to stop the black melancholy taking hold on today of all days.

The light had been slipping passed the shutters and drapes for some time when the soft knock at the door finally came.

Loras breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned forward and softly kissed his love.

"Renly my love…it's time to awaken…its coronation day."