Sansa
The servant placed the tray of scones on the table and left with a quick bow. None of the ladies reached for the scones before she did. Melissa Mallery's eyes were as big as lemons, but her hand never so much as twitched. As it should be, I shall be queen and I decide when we eat.
After another moment, she cleared her throat. "Let us eat dears."
"Delightful." Eleanor chimed.
A gaggle of women of some of the most prominent families of the Crownlands or the Riverlands reached for the scones. Their fathers or brothers were rich in coin, or land. Women worthy of a queen's company. Eleanor Moonton and her lovely voice, sweet Jeyne Cassel.(Though she would always be a Poole to her), the plain Rykker sisters, dull cowlike Lollys, Annara Farring always eager to please.
"The scones are lovely, my lady." The thing spoke.
Except her.
Sansa stiffened. You shouldn't be here.
Lady Rosslyn, if she could even be called that.
The insipid little thing was a nobody from some poor lowly house in the service of Lord Rosby. She was rich in neither gold nor land. Varys kept her well informed about who had things to offer and who weren't worth the time. Though she didn't need Varys to spot this one. She screamed her station. None of her brothers were even skilled in the saddle or pleasing to look upon. Rosslyn wasn't worthy to wash her feet, nonetheless eat scones in her company.
I tried to explain it to mother, but she doesn't understand how things work here. The games that needed to be played in order to keep what could be House Starks. A sea of lemon cakes and sweets that would never stop. A summer without end.
"Sansa Stark!" Mother sounded appalled. "You drove the poor girl to tears."
"Twas my name day, and that was the finest silk she had?" Sansa scoffed in disbelief. "Tis a slight and deserved a dressing down." If she didn't do it, then her reputation would be ruined. Any halfwit with a spine would test her and they would rule over her even though she was going to be queen. Besides, she was asking for it with that hideous color. It was absolutely ghastly, and she approached, acting as if nothing was amiss. Really, who could blame her? Jeyne said she would have made her run out of the halls weeping for the slight. "Everyone agreed with me, mother. I defended the honor of my station."
Mother's eyes narrowed. "I have taken the liberty of inviting Lady Rosslyn to your tea gathering."
Sansa gasped. "No- No please mother, you mustn't.
"It is done Sansa." Her voice was resolute. "And watch that tone with me." She dared her to say otherwise.
"But thats-"
"And you shall treat her well as befit a kind queen." Her voice was unflinching, and Sansa dipped her head dutifully. If mother insisted, she would do it no matter the folly. However, what her ladies did was certainly beyond her control. How could mother blame her for what others did?
Sansa knew she couldn't.
"Of course they are lovely." Lady Annara rolled her eyes. "Lady Sansa always throws perfect get togethers. Did you think otherwise?" Sansa hid the smile that almost formed, appreciating how she always knew what to say to please her. It would not be appropriate to smile even at the humiliation of a nobody.
Lady Rosslyn quieted.
"I think it was lovely, too." Lollys said.
"Thank you, dear," Sansa replied kindly, grabbing her fat stubby fingers and squeezing them. It earned a reaction in the dull girl's eyes. "Anything for my ladies." She giggled.
They launched quickly into the gossip of the day covering affairs like Lady Maris sudden disappearance from court. Everyone said she had some affair with a hedge knight. Father likely had him sent to the Wall for dishonoring a maiden of noble birth, as should be done. Or giggling about Ser Donnel Waynwoods gallant attempt at courtship with Lady Melissa. Sansa agreed with the sentiment that she was heartless for rebuffing him. The matter of Lady Shireens wedding to Lord Arstan Selmy came up. A marriage to a marcher lord showed that Lord Stannis had little faith in his daughter ruling in his stead. Sansa knew. Remarkably, Lord Stannis never sired a son with his wife, unlike King Roberts seed his seed was weak. It must be to only spawn a single daughter? A greyscale freak at that. Though Lady Selyse was certainly an unpleasant woman to look upon with that lipsy mustache growing above her lip. Maybe she understood, after all. Men didn't like ugly women.
It must be very hard being ugly. Sansa couldn't relate.
"Poor man." Jeyne said. "She's afflicted with greyscale is she not?"
"I wouldn't want my brother marrying a woman afflicted with the condition." Annara said with a wicked grin. "Do you think it spread down there?"
Lady Mallery giggled. "His lordship sword may need armor for the bedding."
Jasmine Rykker put down her scone. "I've seen a man with greyscale before when I was out in the litter. Twas awful. I looked at him!" They gasped in horror. Janet, the girl's younger sister, had tears in her eyes. "Thankfully, Ser Jaraemy bravely cut him down. He was so gallant." And they all agreed that it was the height of chivalry to do so.
"I still haven't heard a lick about Lady Margaery marrying. Have you heard anything?" Sansa asked.
"I doubt she ever will." Jeyne piped up. "She's missing an ear."
"How hideous." Annara said. And to think men once said she was the most beautiful maiden in the realm. Maid Lady Margaery, with her soft chestnut curls and delicate figure that resembled a beautiful doll. Sansa was envious of her. Once she might have been a threat for her kings affection, but no longer. A pale murmur of a foe. I'm unrivaled in court in beauty and grace.
"Maybe she'll find a loving man?" Lady Rosslyn voiced as meek as a mouse. Are you as stupid as you look? Sansa wondered. Marriages were made for wealth and power. She may be married one day, but it certainly wouldn't be for love. Lady Margaery will probably marry whatever old lord that could stomach her disfigured face for closer ties with House Tyrell.
"Love? No man could love a woman without an ear!" Jasmine retorted. Her ladies laughed, though Sansa didn't partake. Albeit, she did curl her lip slightly in agreement. Lady Rosslyn sank in her chair, trying to disappear, her skin as red as a tomato.
"Now, now dears, that's enough." She chided gently. "Lady Rosslyn is nearly on the floor."
They paused, uncertain where she was going.
"I think it's beautiful that Lady Rosslyn has such sentiments." Sansa smiled. "It's magical, almost childlike."
Giggles rang out.
On the surface, it seemed like a compliment, and the girl's face momentarily lit up in appreciation, only to be replaced by embarrassment when she realized the true intention behind the words.
The talk of weddings naturally went onto her own as they fawned over what she would wear. Who would perform at the feasts? How many courses would be served? Would there be a tourney in their honor? Naturally, it was going to be a grand affair worthy of a daughter of Winterfell, with the cream of chivalry and gallantry performing for her. They shall write of our wedding as the grandest in the history of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Oh, Lady Sansa, you must let me the honor of combing your hair! It's as fine as silk!" Jazmines voice grew faint. The notion did please her. Her hair was without equal.
"My lady, you musn't." The younger Rykker girl begged. "She lacks refinement. Her fingers are as stubby as a butchers boy."
And it was true.
They did look very stubby.
Sansa chose neither of them. Sisters should not disparage each other even if it was over her. Family was supposed to mean something. If one couldn't trust family, who could one trust? Even Arya would never have wounded, or so. Oh Arya, my unconventional sister, I hope you are well. She had not forgotten her, nor Bran either. I can't wait to see the two of them again. They would have a ball.
Arya would have to wed as well soon enough. She had a ridiculous notion of a Northern match, but the richer fruit was in the South. I shall see father understands the truth. They didn't need to marry any further amongst their vassals. Their banners should be satisfied with Robb and Lady Wylla. Bran, Arya, and Rickon should be married amongst the High lords and ladies of the south. She eyed either Lady Jasmine Rykker of Duskendale or Lady Eleanor of Maidenpool for Bran.
The dowry would be handsome in either case.
Arya was trickier, but Horas Redwyne, heir to the Arbor, would be a sound choice. The Redwyne fleet would be bound with them in marriage. Sansa was sure they could reach an understanding to permit Arya some of her indiscretions. Marriages were often formed based on understandings like that.
House Stark garners access to the fleet and her riches, and they get the honor of Stark blood in their bloodline.
"Forgive me, my lady." Halyn peered in through the door. "Lady Alice Melcolm wishes entry. She was insistent."
Bold isn't she? Sansa thought, amused. The face escaped her and yet she knew she was from the Vale. It made her think of Princess Myrcella. Hopefully, you are less irksome.
"Invite her in Halyn." Sansa said with a kind smile.
The girl was pretty enough, with quaint freckles and dainty hips. Lady Alice curtsied before her. "Lady Sansa." Her eyes gleamed with ambition.
Sansa didn't smile. "It's rude to attend without an invitation. What am I to make of this?"
"Forgive me." She groveled. "But I have news from the Vale. I know it'll please you." And that earned her attention.
"It may please me. Go on." She gestured
"Id love to attend to you, your Grace."
Very bold of her
"We'll see." And motioned for her to continue.
Lady Alice nodded. "I'm under good authority from my sister tending to Princess Myrcella about a terrible scandal in the Eyrie." And paused for effect. "She witnessed King Tommen and Lady Arya kissing in the gardens." Sansa felt dizzy. "They spend almost every moment with the other in the courtyard eyeing the other like star-crossed lovers after smashing each other with swords."
Arya wouldn't do that.
"That's a slanderous lie!" Jeyne screeched.
Arya wouldn't do that
"My sister has even heard Lady Arya has snuck into the king's chambers."
Arya wouldn't do that.
Lady Annara rolled her eyes. "That's baseless! No daughter of Ned Stark would behave a whore."
"Your wasting Lady Sansas time with this drivel." Lady Eleanor chimed.
Arya was close friends with Tommen. Sansa had never thought much about it…Arya was well Arya. She was focused on the blade or painting and never showed any interests in boys or men. Most found her off putting. No she couldn't. She wouldn't.
"King Tommen. " Alice insisted, flushed. "named her his scowling sweet kitten and then stole a kiss from her."
That's something he would do! He tried all those stupid childish pet names on her!
You did do it, didn't you, Arya? You mannish whore!
Sansa wanted to rage and seethe at her whorish sister, but she couldn't do it here. Not in front of her ladies. House Starks reputation needed to be upheld.
She leaned back onto her velvet cushion, tapping her fingers against the armrest.
"You will apologize to me in court." Sansa cut through the noise of the conversation. "Or I shall see you marry no higher than some hedge knight for bringing this drivel to my ears."
"But my lady tis better it was heard from me now-"
"Mayhaps I was too generous." Her eyes narrowed.
Lady Alice whitened and wisely bent her head in submission before being escorted out..
"What a sad woman." Sansa rolled her eyes. "Spreading those lies." And all of them chimed in agreement with her that they were lies. Stupid hens, it's true. Do any of you know that? She eyed them carefully the rest of the evening, despite treating them with the height of courtesy. She praised Eleanor on her singing, promised to pray for Lollys sister, pledged to go hawking with Annara, and told the Rykker sisters how beautiful they looked, and ignored the thing. None of them suspects the truth. Sansa was certain.
But I know the truth.
My sister is a whore.
Sansa stood naked as her name day alone in her chambers. She rubbed her firm breasts between her fingers. Both were perfectly shaped, as if sculpted by the Maiden herself. The sight of her bosom aroused desire in boys and men, from stableboys to lords, without distinction. Their eyes stripped away her clothes as she walked. A shiver stabbed through her as she looked for the flaw. Sansa crossed her shaking arms. Not a single blemish lay anywhere on her soft, flawless skin.
The mirror revealed nothing amiss.
Where is it? Sansa's eyes burned from staring. Where is it?
I'm perfect. A beautiful queen. Shapely in all the right areas.
Perfect in courtesy, a lady's armor and sword she was unmatched.
Yet Tommen chose my flat chested bitch of a sister the moment she opened her whore legs. What was so appealing about her tiny breasts or plain face? Was King Tommens witless? Blinded by a Wildling axe? Some sword swallower? Does he see Bran in Arya? That must be it! Only a secret sword swallower could have desired Arya over her.
Yet Tommen had leered at her good heart in Winterfell…
Mayhaps it was pity? Once mayhaps, but certainly not twice. Sansa knew.
What man would have wanted to bed her? Even in a dress, she was barely a woman or desirable and certainly wasn't anywhere near her equal.
Why would you choose her to be a mistress?
Is this some cruel jape of the court fool?
Everyone would be laughing at her. My own sister a kings mistress. The dishonor was unbearable, as she imagined the bastards they would sire. All of them looked like the king, with golden hair and green eyes. What if she only bore him children with red hair and blue eyes? Would she be forced to mother his bastards?
Sansa fought back the tears. She's ruining everything!
Why was Arya so desperate throwing herself at her husband like a whore? Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and heavy. A daughter of Eddard Stark could have had any Northern lord. How could she betray her like this? She wiped them away. Sansa didn't understand as she wept like a little girl. Her tears were a flood, and she stopped wiping them away. Her dreams were rotting like the weirwood tree in the godswood. Were the gods punishing her for her sins? Should she have made her peace with Myrcella after all? A hint of regret pierced her for everything as she felt a blanket of warmth rub against her. Lady joined her. She must have sensed her distress. They had a strong bond between the two of them. "At least I have you, girl. I don't know what I would do without you." Her head rested against Lady's soft fur as she sobbed.
"This isn't just Arya."
Sansa peered her head up furiously. "No, it isn't." Her problem was a golden one.
This was Princess Myrcellas doing, wasn't it?
"You manipulative bitch." Sansa reddened. "You did this. This is all you." And suddenly everything made sense, and she felt a fool for not seeing it sooner. Tommen sleeping with Arya. Arya forgetting her honor. She didn't understand how it was done. But it was her Sansa knew. Somehow Princess Myrcella made this happen like it was a game of cyvasse maneuvering her hapless brother and Arya like pieces on the board.
I can't prove it, but it's you. It's always you. I can't believe I felt guilty about you.
Martyn would handle Myrcella, and everything will go back to as things should be. Arya would face her reckoning for this, too. A sister should know better.Sansa stood up and wiped away her tears. I'm the queen and I shall get the last laugh Myrcella. She swore to the old gods and the new. But first she had a spider to squash beneath her heel for proving disloyal. He had to know and said nothing. Myrcella would get her due soon enough.
"Come, Lady I have need of you."
"I can't hear you Varys. Are you saying something?"
She supposed it was hard to speak with hundreds of stones of fur and muscle atop of your chest. Though punishments were supposed to be unpleasant. 'Tis the whole point. You don't feed villains lemon cakes or rub their shoulders. Sansa placed her hands at her side, her grip tightening, as if trying to mold herself into an unyielding statue. Keeping them in place prevented them from fidgeting.
A queen has to be brave in the Spiders den.
Lady would rip out his throat if she asked and the glimmer of fear in her Spiders eyes said he knew it too. Even the famed Master of Whispers groveled like the rest. Sansa was disappointed. Lord Varys' face slowly transformed into a deep, unsettling purple color. Witnessing a man in such a vulnerable and helpless state felt strange and unnerving. She felt almost sick. Sansa was uncertain if she was doing this right.
"This is your fault you know." Sansa hovered over him. "You didn't inform me about His Grace and my sister. Thats a choice my lord."
Varys gurgled.
"Up! Lady, I wish to hear him a tad."
He coughed and coughed. "You-"He coughed. "Wouldn't have believed me about your own flesh and blood. If you let me-"
"Sit Lady." She commanded, and Lady fell with a distinct thud, crushing him and bending his ribs. She had heard enough excuses from the man. "Clearly you think of myself as a child and not a queen worthy of obedience. I shall have to teach it to you." And she watched until he was on the precipice of fading unconscious before granting him a reprieve he so desperately sought. He coughed pathetically.
"Do you understand your err or shall this be your end?"
"Forgive me sweet queen, I made a mistake in judgment." Sansa bit underneath her lip. He did serve a use for her still. Varys was very useful in helping her keep the court under her heel.
Sansa commanded Lady to sit again, but she didn't make it last as long. "You will help me move unseen when I have need Varys." She said as he wheezed. ""I'll forgive this treason this once. Only once."
He rolled over spent as she whistled for Lady to her side.
"And Varys, don't forget the nature of our relationship. Next time, it may cost you more than a bruised chest."
Catelyn
Streaks of the morning sun peered through the shudders bathing her in its glow. Catelyn, half asleep, reached for her husband and grabbed nought but air. Where has my Ned gone? He should still be in bed with her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and searched for the answer to the puzzle and found not even a note.
He must have left in a hurry.
Catelyn rubbed her sore breasts. Her loins still ached from the urgency of their lovemaking. She did most of the work as Neds leg required tender care, but it still left her satisfied after many cold nights alone in Winterfell.
How did that man sneak past me? I must have been more tired than I realized.
Catelyn sighed and figured he must have had some emergency Small Council meeting and didn't wish to wake her. My thoughtful NedShe quickly got ready for the day.
Outside, carpenters were quick at work constructing benches for the outflow of guests set to arrive for King Tommens Wedding. Throughout the city, hundreds of singers, cooks, entertainers, fools, and carpenters were arriving from far and wide. Silk tents were to be set up in the middle and inner wards to handle the outflow of guests. "My lady." Stark men offered bows as she roamed the hallways. Some were old faces that had long since faded from memory. They had left with Ned all those years ago.
In the outer yard, Rickon was dressed in his handsome squire's attire. He hacked away at the Moontoon boy under the watchful eyes of Ser Edric Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Catelyn was no expert of the sword, but she could understand her youngest was good. Rickon took to the sword like a duck to water. Not even Robb was as skilled at his age.
Now Robb did battles with Wildlings instead of straw foes under Ser Rodricks care. Please bring Robb back home safely. It was hard watching him ride off with his banners to aid the Nights Watch.
A mothers battle.
Rickons training sword slammed into the Moonton boy's chest, sending him tumbling down. "Well done!" Sansa let out a cheer. "Winter is Coming!" She whistled. All of her ladies-in-waiting took up her battle cry and clapped for Rickons victory. ShaggyDog and Lady looked uninterested and laid around lazily under the canopy. Yet, strangely enough, Rickon's attention was elsewhere. He seemed to be looking for someone in the crowd of spectators. The Moonton boy flushed from embarrassment as Rickon refused to acknowledge his extended hand. Catelyn wanted to give him a scolding for it.
"Shake hands Lord Rickon." Ser Edric Dayne said. "Twas an honorable bout."
Rickon shook his head and extended his hand with only a slight scowl.
"Well done you both!"
The Sword of the Morning wouldn't have been her first choice for Rickon to squire under, but he was able enough, she supposed. Ned had broached his plan with her and she couldn't find a reason to dismiss it. Catelyn had seen him defeat three men in the courtyard with the pale sword Dawn. Yet those violet eyes reminded her of Lady Ashara and the place she still held in Neds heart. Bitterness lingered as she thought of Jon Snow.
At least he has sworn the vows of a Kingsguard.
He wouldn't threaten Robbs children and their claim.
Rickon came to supper every day with high praise for Ser Edric skill with sword and lance. "I've never seen a man move so quickly! Not even Robb!" Rickon vowed. And the Sword of the Morning was as chivalrous as his uncle was. The court was overflowing with his admirers.
"Lady Stark." One of Vayons men approached, head bent. "Steward Poole wishes to go over some details of the wedding." She wished to linger some more, but Cat was a Tully of Riverrun and understood her duty.
"Of course." She replied.
Servants brought out a course of buttery scones and roasted duck for them. Her stomach rumbled. Dealing with ledgers and purchases made one hungry. Though Rickon's appetite far exceeded her own as he devoured the food greedily. Robb had done the same when he was twelve name days. She should chastise him, but Catelyn knew a lost battle when she saw one. "By the Seven, are you feeding the lad Cat? He's eating more than that direwolf of his," Edmure asked, only to earn a light scolding from his wife. "I'm only kidding, dear."
"I love your necklace, Lady Stark." Cerenna Lannister tactfully changed the subject. "It looks lovely."
"It was a gift from my husband."
Edmure grinned. "I'm wise to your tricks, wife of mine. You want one just like it, don't you?" She protested otherwise. "No, no, you do and I'm suppose you shall beggar me yet." And winked after stealing a quick peck on the cheek.
Cerenna Lannister giggled. "Cousin Willy never would let you become a beggar."
"I would love to find you a necklace equal to Lady Cerennas' beauty." Sansa chimed.
"I may have to take you up on that offer."
Edmure wore a handsome green doublet that complimented his light blue eyes and was as friendly and courtly as always. To his right, his wife Lady Cerenna stood, her golden Lannister hair cascading down her slender neck and bare shoulders. She was pretty, but was no great beauty. Still, she had a good set of hips and had sired two daughters for her brother. The Seven had yet to bless her with a son, though Edmure swore it would happen soon. Both often hosted dinners for Ned and Sansa. House Tully had formed deep roots here as Edmure took his duties as Master of Laws more seriously than his predecessor.
This evening the Stark Household save Ned joined Edmure and his family for dinner, including the brooding Martyn Lannister.
Lady Cerenna dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Did you know, sister, that your brother all but stopped those foul outlaws from the Reach single handily? One stern letter to Highgarden had them stumbling over themselves like court fools."
She fawned over him, to her brother's delight.
"Is that so?" Catelyn asked.
"Oh yes. Cousin Willy praises him to everyone who'll listen. He brought peace to the Westerlands from those evil men. My brave Edmure."
Edmure laughed. "You forget the role our esteemed Lord Regent played aswell."
"Details." Lady Cerenna giggled.
"There will never be peace as long as House Tyrell rules the Reach." Martyn Lannister said. "My brother is a fool for thinking otherwise." His voice was bitter and vengeful. The murder of Ser Kevan still preyed upon his soul, and she wondered if it preyed on Lord Willem Lannister.
House Lannister always claims its debts.
A War between Highgarden and Casterly Rock would be devastating as the last. The wounds of the War for Margaerys Ear still lingered. Yet now Rivverun, Winterfell, and the Eyrie stand behind them. Would Lord Willas be fool enough to goad them?
"Easy lad these-"
"I'm not your son." The Lannister boy snapped with heat.
"Marty!" Her good sister's voice raised a pitch appalled. "You apologize this instant. Edmure did not deserve that tone."
"Forgive him uncle." Sansa interjected softly. "He's tired from training for the upcoming tourney. It's placed him in a foul mood."
Martyn Lannister coughed. "Aye." He mumbled. "Thats it." And it didn't fool anyone save mayhaps her brother.
"I remember my first grand tourney! You never forget your first! I was a nervous wreck, though! Still sent that no good Frey flying. Which one was it? Do you remember dear?" He asked, puzzled. "There are so many."
"Ser Edric is going to beat them all!" Rickon vowed after swallowing a large gulp of duck. "He's the best there has ever been." His eyes dared anyone to say otherwise.
"I'm sure Sansa is hoping His Grace wins and crowns her, His Queen of Love and Beauty." Lady Cerenna said. "Wouldn't that be lovely?"
Sansa held her grace as a queen should. It filled her with pride. "King Tommen is a valiant knight, but there are other skilled warriors that shall partake. The realm shall be victorious for the display of valor."
"Did Lord Stark ever partake in a tourney, good sister?" Lady Cerenna asked.
Catelyn chuckled, amused. "My husband isn't one for tourneys, it isn't his way."
"Mother." Sansa said as the plates were being cleared. "I wish to show you something after dinner if that is alright?"
"What my dear?"
"Why, it's a surprise! You'll love it though!"
The gown itself was ivory and cloth-of-gold and lined with silvery satin with long sleeves that nearly draped onto the floor.
A wedding dress
Catelyn couldn't speak.
She couldn't breathe.
"Mother?"
"By the Mother, you look beautiful." Cat fought back the tears. Her mother had never lived to see the day she was wed. In the halls of fathers banners and Northman amongst strange leering men she could have used a mothers kind smile. Catelyn didn't wish to dwell on what could never have been.
It was painful to think of those things…
I get to see my girl wed…
The Gods had blessed her by allowing her to witness her sweet Sansa marry.
Sansa brightened. "I'm thrilled you love it. I made it to honor you. Do you think King Tommen shall approve?" Her voice was as shy as a maiden with a red hue around her pale cheeks. Sansa had beautiful cheekbones.
Cat smiled. "He would be a fool not to." And brought Sansa in for a deep embrace. Both had tears coming down their cheeks as they smiled and laughed in bliss. "Oh sweetling, I''m so proud of you."
"I'll make you and father proud." Sansa swore. "You'll see, I shall be the queen."
"I've always been proud of you, Sansa." And kissed her twice on the cheeks.
And her worries about her losing her way melted away like the summer snow. This quarrel between Sansa and the princess was merely some girlish folly. Catelyn knew how high-strung ladies could get over silly concerns. A few words spoken to her nephew, and the mattered would be settled.
Catelyn knew better than to send a letter. It must come from my own voice for my nephew to understand. Jasper, like any husband, would defend the honor of his wife and his children. He would misunderstand words on parchment.
It'll be fine. Jasper is a good man at heart. Catelyn knew.
Catelyn's worries dissipated as she brushed her hair, preparing for bed. Her soft blue nightgown draped elegantly around her, swaying with her every step. Ned loves the color. And she knew her wayward husband would eventually wander on in to his chambers and she would unravel the riddle to his disappearance. Edmure told her that Ned had taken the litter to inspect the gates. "He wanted me to hold court this day and I'm always glad to help Cat." Why didn't you tell me, Ned? It was baffling.
The bronze hinges creaked as Catelyn turned, expecting to see a long face with grey eyes. Instead, Rickons red mop of hair peer in. "May I come in?" He asked sheepishly.
"Of course, my boy."
To other men and boys, he was a wild feral beast, who broke teeth or shattered bones, but he was as tame as a lamb when she raised her voice.
"I-"
Somehow, his hair had become an unruly mess since dinner. "How do you mess up your hair so quickly?" She fussed over him.
"Mother-" He groaned.
"Quiet young man." She raised her voice.
Rickon obeyed.
"You are a lady, are you not?" His voice was blunt as a hammer as she finished her work.
Serviceable job.
He'll ruin it, though.
Catelyn chuckled. "Last I looked in the mirror." She replied dryly.
"You understand the courtesy of Southron ladies. They make no sense."
"Why the sudden interest?" She raised a slender brow. "Did some girl earn my wild boy's interest?" I hope not it may leave my boy with a broken heart. The only reason a boy wished to learn courtesy was for a lady's heart. "Shall I speak to your father and broach a betrothal mayhaps" she teased.
He scowled. "Swords and fists are simple. You hit your foe until they yield, or you do. Girls just giggle and smile except Arya, but she doesn't count. I wish to earn her affections, mother." He said stubbornly.
A third son did have some freedom that was denied to his brothers. Still, marriage was a practical matter that she and Ned would have to consider with the girls father. Boys rarely think of those things, only the pretty smile from a maiden or a delightful laugh that enchanted.
"And does this lady have a name?"
"Alysanne Bracken." He said without anymore prodding on her part. "She doesn't giggle at me or say I look handsome trying to please me." He softened. "I was teaching her twit of a brother a lesson. "He admitted sheepishly. Catelyn knew what that meant. "He leered at Sansa, yet she intervened for the oaf. Somehow, she defeated me without a blow being landed with that tongue of hers. I was left feeling small and foolish. I like her mother. I really do. Will you help me win her rosy heart? I know she would warm my hearth!" His eyes were big and hopeful, as they did when he wanted a tray of sweets.
Catelyn sighed. "I'm pleased you've found a girl that pleases you, darling, but this is a practical matter. A matter of commitment and lords. Your father and I shall have to correspond with Lord Bracken first." Seven knows it may kick off a hornets nest between the Brackens and Blackwoods Edmure should be informed as well.
Rickon sulked. "Father wouldn't care enough to do so." He mumbled.
"Rickon Stark, your father cares about you."
"No, he doesn't." Rickon said and crossed his arms.
"He found you a knight to squire under. Or do you disapprove of Ser Edric?"
"Only to keep me occupied." He replied before squirming under her gaze. "Don't look at me like that." His scowl deepened. "You know he couldn't be bothered!"
Catelyn said nothing and narrowed her eyes.
"I know he cares." Rickons shoulders slumped."I just wish he never stayed here. He should have been home in Winterfell with us!"
He stood up, furious.
"Not tending to this shithole!"
She said nothing as the anger of a boy washed over him. Ned called it the Wolfsblood and Rickon had it in spades. When he finally twisted around, Catelyn was taken aback by the sight of tears streaming down his cheeks.
"He won't be around much longer, anyway. His leg is awful, isn't it?"
The fear plunged into her chest like a rusty knife and twisted into her heart.
His leg is weak, and he looks half dead some days too weak to walk. Catelyns fears came to life. How much longer until he in interned within the Crypts of Winterfell? Sleeping with maggots instead of in her bed.
A life without Ned felt empty and cold.
Catelyn nearly lashed out at Rickon for his words and immediately regretted it. Oh Mother above, forgive me.
"Oh Rickon." She embraced him and brought him into a deep hug. "Your father stayed for the sake of duty. He missed all of us deeply." she wiped away his boyish tears. "And he'll be here for many years. Gods be good. Your father is a strong man. Stark blood is a fierce thing."
Rickon sniffled. "You think so?"
"I know so."
It was then she heard the thud of Neds walking cane striking the red stone and a moment later his long face appeared through the doorway. Streaks of grey ran through his brown hair, and Ned's kind face was marked by gaunt tired lines, yet he remained hers. He looked a shade healthier than when she first arrived. Or did she imagine it? Cat hoped for the former. "Rickon?" He asked, puzzled. "Cat, are you and the boy well?"
Rickon nodded vigorously. "May I be excused, father?"
"We are well Ned."
"Aye you may." Ned said.
When Rickon left them, Ned leaned against the bed and rested his cane against the wooden frame. She joined him and entangled her fingers with his own. "You are troubled." She noted. "What ails you?"
"Dark winds and dark words." Ned said grimly. "I have proved a fool, Cat."
His tone sent a shiver of fear down her breast. "On what matter?" Had the Kings Peace broken down in the Westerlands once more? Mayhaps the pirate lord Euron Greyjoy resurfaced? Had Ned received word from Robert Baratheons quest in the East?
It was nothing of the sort
Ned spoke of word from the Eyrie that warned of conspiracy within the Red Keep. It spoke of sellswords gathering in Storms End. The Royal Fleet sailing to Storms End from their mooring in Dragonstone. Ser Davos the Onion Knight spotted meeting the Iron Bank. Catelyn paled. The Gods be good, Lord Stannis a traitor?
"I wished it was simply our nephew's imagination." He looked pained. "Jasper always saw enemies where none existed, and I balked at his warning. Lord Stannis was a dutiful man…I don't understand, Cat. I don't understand."
"Could it not be some mistake?"
Ned sighed. "I asked Varys to provide the expertise of his craft. He believes differently from our nephew." Her husbands eyes betrayed his doubt in the Master of Whispers. And Catelyn didn't trust the man either. He seemed too cunning by half.
"But you don't?" Catelyn asked.
"The simplest answer is often the answer."
Catelyn heart pounded in her chest. War…Gods be good. She squeezed Neds hands and leaned into him. Oh Sansa. The Stranger seized her. "We must protect Sansa Ned. We must double her guard!" Lord Stannis would see her as a threat if he truly meant to depose his nephew. Sansa would be King Tommens queen. My other children Catelyn worried. Bran and Arya were close with the boy king aswell and would follow him off to battle to defend his crown.
I thought I only needed to worry about Robb Beyond the Wall.
"What are you going to do?"
"King Tommen commanded, I do nothing." Ned tensed. "He wishes me to do nought until he arrived to take up the throne of his father."
"Mayhaps such a course would prove wise?" It would allow them hopefully to arrest the traitors before a rebellion was launched or failing that prepare their banners for war.
Thousands of Northman are beyond the Wall…
Ned grimaced. "Lord Stannis fostered treason under my nose and caught me unaware. Roberts own brother. How many years has this evil grown?" He looked lost and angered as well shaking his head in disbelief. And news of Lord Stannis plot had shaken her to her core."First Lord Renly and now Lord Stannis, I don't understand how this treachery could have festered in Roberts family."
"It's vile Ned." Catelyn agreed.
"Yet his son and our king wishes me to do nought." He flung his cane to the ground, and she jumped up, startled.
Ned stood up with the strength of a Lord of Winterfell as if the years had not aged him and walked back to the solar. Her Ned was in pain, but refused her when she tried to return his cane to him.
"I swore to defend Roberts Realm. I shall confront this treason. I'm still the Regent of the Iron Throne."
A madness had befallen him. A madness born from a sense of helplessness and failure.
"Don't be a fool Ned." She chided. "You cannot ignore an order of our king." She had to make him see his folly.
Ned rambled about ordering the arrest of Ser Imry who acted as Master of Ship in Lord Stannis stead and ordering Lord Stannis to appear before the Iron Throne with the Royal Fleet or be branded an outlaw.
"Ned, you know you cannot." She laid her hand ontop his own. "You would earn the anger of our future good son. He would remember you disobeying him."
"Justice needs to be done, Cat."
"A Kings justice." Catelyn retorted.
"Damn him. Damn Robert. Damn you all."
Ned sighed, defeated, his eyes weary and tired, sitting behind his desk of parchment and ink. "It hurts getting old. I'm failing you all."
Catelyn cusped his cheeks with her hands. "You've failed no one, Ned. No one could have foreseen this that Lord Stannis would prove so false."
Everything was going to be fine. Sansa shall be queen, Neds body would heal, Robb shall return victorious, and Lord Stannis would face justice. And Catelyn believed this with all her heart.
Aegon
The bells of the Great Sept rang, and the crowd surged forward as the High Septon emerged on the raised marble pulpit. A distinguished man with a wizardly looking beard wearing a crown of crystals. Noble white columns towered behind the avatar of the gods alongside a lofty dome of gold and glass. Built by Baelor the Blessed. The lessons of Maester Haldon resurfaced. It cost over a million gold dragons. King Baelor dreamed of the Sept, but Prince Viserys built it. The ramifications on that choice changed the relationship between Crown and Faith nearly as much as the Doctrine of Exceptionalism cementing the relationship as one between Master and servant. The Crown commanded, and the Faith obeyed.
The High Septon cleared his throat.
As it should be. Only House Targaryen can lead the way.
Kings Landing itself was a testament to the glory and potential of his house. Yet despite the greatness, it had been squandered by errs of fools. Wasted potential of arrogant kings. I shall carry on the torch further than any of them. I'll start by building sewers for one.A spell was cast upon all who listened. It brought men to tears and Aegon nodded along with every word.
Sons and daughters of the Faith of the Seven clutched their necklaces and hollered. "Praise be the Seven!" Whenever the High Septon paused his sermon, the crowd was deafening. "Praise be the Seven! The Seven are good!"
"Bless you, my children, in the name of the Father." His voice trembled. "Bless the sinners amongst us in the name of the Mother! Bless the meek by the Maiden! Bless the sick in the name of the Mother! Show wisdom to thy neighbors in the name of the Crone! Oh Seven, who are one, show mercy to us all."
"Praise be the Seven!" A knight with a sigil of a porcupine declared.
Aegon prayed with his people and sang their songs until his voice grew hoarse. He whispered to Rolly every aspect of the service, but he likely only heard every other word the noise was so great. Lessons that Septa Lemore had drilled into his skull. She was merciless with the switch. She still frightened him more than any man.
When he became king and anointed Duck his Lord Commander of the Kingsuard, he wanted him to know what it meant and the tradition he would represent. Names like Aemon the Dragonknight and Ser Ryam Redwyne who dawned the white cloaks.
No knight is more true than my Rolly.
To the right of them, Jon watched warily. He only mumbled along. Jon was not one for prayers of any sort. A practical man who didn't hold much value in prayer or the gods. And he isn't wrong. It'll take more than prayer to secure my crown."He should speak more of the Warrior," Rolly complained. "That is the one that mattered."
"Brutality without wisdom or compassion is madness." Aegon replied. "A Warrior needs something to defend, or he is merely a mad dog." And the world had enough mad dogs like the usurper and his ilk who had murdered his mother and sister and sacked his city and raped his people.
Rolly rubbed his chin. "Huh, you could have been a Septon Griff."
A crown is what I shall wear, not septon robes.
Aegon would have shown off Rhaenys at the Great Sept, dressed in soft silk. Her face was hidden by a veil, guarding her luscious locks from the prying eyes of others. Together, they would have committed themselves to great acts of piety and charity before the adoring crowds. The Conciliator and the Good Queen come again! Everyone would have loved them for it. In his dreams, her seductive smile and generous cleavage were a constant temptation. He would have married her in another life before the Great Sept of Baelor.
"We have dallied long enough." Jon said gruffly as the High Septon bade them to go in peace. "We have work to do, boy." A work of swords and cunning to return what belonged to his family. To avenge his mother and sister and honor all who had sacrificed for him.
Aegon nodded.
They pressed on as a womans cried out. "Daeana! My daughter! I can't find my daughter." Jon's steely gaze locked onto him, silently urging him to continue on his way.
Good thing he wasn't actually his father.
Aegon offered his assistance at once with a grinning Rolly right at his heel. They found the girl swimming in one of the rainbow pools and returned her to her tear-filled mother. "Bless you sers! Bless you!"
Jon held his ire until they were walking down the windy streets of Flea Bottom alone. Rolly was sent to deliver a message to Strickland on the other side of the city. A woman dumped a bowl of shit and piss on the street. It narrowly missed his head. "We are going to be late now. The Eunuch won't be pleased. And for what? A single woman and her spawn. When are you going to learn? They aren't worth it."
"Everything Jon." Aegon replied. "My people are worth everything to me. You taught me that." He looked down and held his gaze. Jon always loomed large in his mind, but now Jon looked up at him. He was a boy no longer. "Your only afraid ser, but you have nothing to be afraid of. Don't let it consume you."
"Rhaegar cared for them and it didn't save him."
Aegon tensed. "Good thing I can save myself."
If my father had the wits the gods gave a radish he, would have bested Robert Baratheon and the Mad King. His study of Roberts Rebellion showed him that it was theirs to lose and lost Rhaegar did. If they had simply taken more banners from House Tyrell to the Trident it would have been Lord Robert who fell.
But he didn't and his mother and sister paid the price.
"Varys-"
"I care little for that mans opinions." Aegon said curtly. Too curtly. He sighed. "I understand his talents, and he shall keep his office, but I shall never march to his tune." He made his bed all those years ago and he'll have to lie in it. Jon's lips twitched before clenching his jaw shut as a column of goldcloaks marched down the street. They waited for them to pass them. Lord Starks men roamed even here with strength.
Jon frowned. "There are more of them out. I like this not."
"You worry too much, Jon."
"Come on, we are almost there."
In the dimly lit secret room, they huddled around a long table, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on their faces. Walls of parchment covered the surface of the table. The ink on the parchment told where the weapons were located throughout the city. Soon the parchment would burn in the hearth. Varys had insisted, and Aegon agreed. It couldn't hurt being cautious. They had carefully stockpiled warehouses with swords, shields, and armor. Tunnels in the Red Keep had been mapped and marked in preparation for the day the three-headed dragon once more flew over the battlements of Kings Landing. The Usurpers wedding would be one for the history books. If all went well in one fell swoop, the Usurper son and his allies would be dead or captured.
And we shall prevail our cause is just!
Family, allies and servants and conspirators, all of them stood united around him.
Oberyn Martell had his boots lazily propped up on the table, but it was his daughter Tyene that caught the eye with her perky breasts and curvy legs. She wasn't as beautiful as her cousin Arianne's, but she still filled out a dress well. Even though she was wearing breaches and a simple white tunic. He could imagine her in satin pressed up against him. His mind almost wandered. Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Aegon thought again and again. Septa Lemore's prayer to control lust helped some, but it was hard that women were so beautiful.
I love beautiful women.
Women in the Water Gardens of Dorne wore next to nothing in the scorching heat. Arianne's lips had a better use than for talking. A much better use with that forge of hers. Those months he spent with his kin were lovely, but best forgotten. He was to marry Lady Margaery Tyrell and she would be his Queen in the sight of Gods and Men. I shall defend my personal honor.Jon sat between Harry Strickland and Varys on his right side while other Gold Company officers stood nearby, sober as stone. Veterans of a dozen wars in the Disputed Lands they were among the finest soldiers in the world.
"As I was saying, this poises a problem." Jon declared, thick with disapproval. "Lord Stark is aware of traitors within his walls."
Varys giggled. "It changes nothing, my lord. Lord Stark is like a babe in the woods, ignorant of the danger he finds himself in." His fingers tapped the wood as Varys continued. "His mind dwells on Lord Stannis a distant threat. Not one within the city."
"All it takes is one slip up and we all march to the headsman."
"Worries is all I hear out of your mouth, Lord Conginton." His Uncle stretched like a cat ready to pounce. "All I require is a spear in my hand and I'll spill the blood of whatever fool comes our way. Let them come. It won't change a thing. Justice for Elia and little Rhaenys shall be mine!"
Tyene rolled her lovely eyes.
Aegon thought his prayer again.
"Forgive me sers." Lady Tyene's alluring voice interrupted. "but isn't the whole purpose to capture all of our enemies in one stroke? If Lord Stannis is avoiding the wedding, isn't that a problem?"
"My little birds shall deal with him sweetling." Varys promised. "Only Robert Baratheon is beyond my reach. The Red Priestess has made his death impossible, or I would have killed him ages ago." A pity I would have his head mounted on a spike. He supposed his aunt would deal with him and he wished her all the happiness in the world.
Harry stretched his collar. "Mayhaps we should temporarily stop moving troops and weapons into the city?"
The notion appalled him. "Absolutely not. We shall do no such thing." He vowed. "We simply need to remain disciplined, but that doesn't need to be said. They are men of the Golden Company! Their discipline is unmatched!" A little praise to rally the troops. "As the Usurpers son shall see on his wedding day when we drag him naked from his marriage bed."
Men smirked and nodded in agreement.
Jon nodded aswell. "Thats not an option, Harry. We are behind as it is." He turned his head. "What word do you have from our friends in the Reach?"
"They'll strike the moment news arises of our victory and will advance into the Westerlands." Varys shivered. "Violently I fear. The Lords of the Reach hunger for revenge against the Lannisters."
"My brother stands ready as well." Uncle Oberyn vowed.
"Remind Lord Willas not to damage the Westerlands too badly." Aegon commanded. " I wish to place our Lord of the Rock without too much of a hassle." He worried mainly for the smallfolk.
The small should not suffer needlessly. Aegon remembered them. A king must always be mindful of his subjects, down even to the lowest beggar. Collective punishment was unjust for those who had no hand in the treasons of their lords. He had made it clear that he would not tolerate a recurrence of the violence and devastation seen during the Sack of Kings Landing. Every officer in the Golden Company understood where he stood.
"Your Grace." Varys cleared his throat. "Speaking of Lord Tyrion I think it would be wise that he remains confined to his quarters. It wouldn't be wise to allow him to roam the streets."
Aegon tightened. "All lords and officers are permitted to travel the streets. We have already settled this matter." Frustration seeped into his voice. "I've even permitted myself to be swayed by your words. Lord Tyrion has a guardian of your choosing, my lord, to follow him at all times. Do you think your man incompetent?" He mocked. "Is that it?"
"I'd rather not leave anything up to chance."
"Denied." Aegon said without hesitation. "Do not waste our time with this again, Varys. I trust Lord Tyrion with my life." I would not be standing here if it wasn't for him.
"Lord Tyrion is useful, but you cannot trust him."
"I trust him more than you."
The room went silent as a tomb at his retort. Uncle Oberyn removed his feet from the table, suddenly sober, as Lady Tyene looked amused by the tension. Aegon didn't regret it a lick. Varys eyes remained an enigma wrapped in a riddle. Jon was afraid of him. Aegon loathed him too much to be afraid.
"You are forgetting yourself Varys and your place. There is no crown resting on your brow. Nor the sword of Kings hanging on your hip." Blackfyrye he wore proudly at his hip as a symbol of his authority.
In this room he Aegon the Sixth of His Name.
Not the Young Griff.
Varys frowned. "I fail to see one on your brow either, Your Grace."
"Watch your tongue, Varys." Jon warned.
"I wish to see one on your brow."
Aegon sighed. "I know, my lord." He said politely. "You do your duty well. I have never denied you that. You have my thanks for that." And thats all you'll ever get from me.
"I hope one day you shall trust me, Your Grace, more thoroughly." When you bring my sister and mother back to me. Not a day sooner.Uncle Oberyn swiped Harry Strikland's goblet of wine. "A toast to my nephew. King Aegon the Sixth of his Name!"
"To the king!" They cheered as the tension melted away like summer snow.
He entered Lord Tyrions dimly lit room. The guards opened the door without comment. It was more spacious than some places he had stayed, but he supposed for a Lannister they were cramp quarters. When he lived amongst the fishermen, he didn't even have his own mat of straw. Spoiled lordlings.
He was surprised to see Lemore in the room. Septa Lemore long smooth legs were hidden underneath her robes, but he knew what they looked like and how flexible they were. Seven hells whats wrong with you. She smiled at him and he felt guilty for his debased thoughts. "He hasn't bothered you too much, Lemore?"
"Me bothersome?" Lord Tyrion gave a toothy grin. "Your wound me, your grace. I'm as innocent as a lamb."
Septa Lemore laughed. "He is a delight, your grace." She offered a small grin. "When he looks me in the eyes."
"Mayhaps I'm not a total lamb." Lord Tyrion admitted. "Though your septa is trying very hard to save my darkened heart. I admire the effort even if it's a lost cause."
"By the mercy of the Seven, anything is possible, my lord."
Aegon took up a seat. "Your heart is bigger than you admit. I've seen it firsthand." And held up a travel cyvasse board. "I figured we play a game."
Lord Tyrion shrugged. "It's small and stunted, just like the rest of me. A game?" He raised a brow. "Going to flip this board as well?"
"One time. I only did that once."
Septa Lemore curtsied. "I'll leave you two to it, then." His eyes flickered to her rolling hips as she left. Tyrion grinned deviously at him. Damn you for noticing that. Though he made no mention of it.
His mismatched eyes studied him as they positioned the pieces on the board. "Am I still a captor here, my king?"
"You are no captive, Tyrion. You're free to go."
"But my shadow remains, does he not?"
Aegon sighed. "My council doesn't know you as well as I." They saw a Lannister, a tool to secure the Westerlands, but Aegon saw a kindred spirit who wasn't half as cynical as he acted. A man who showed courage of a knight and held a good heart no matter his size.
"He frightens the whores and I have to pay twice as much. Could you appoint another? Someone with a decent wit to him but uglier than me."
"I must follow the counsel of my advisors."
Tyrion knocked down one of his catapults with a dragon. "Must? A king musn't do anything he doesn't wish."
Aegon brushed his hair back. "I'm sorry Tyrion." And he meant it. "Things will be different after the wedding, you'll see."
The battle of wits continued as they concentrated on removing pieces from the board. A relaxing game for kings and lords. "Have you given thought to the woman you'll marry Tyrion? A Lord of the Rock shall need to marry, you know."
"Even the proudest lord isn't like to part with his daughter for little old me." Aegon heard a hint of bitterness in Tyrion's tone.
"You give me a name and she'll be yours." Aegon vowed. "You are worth more than you think."
Tyrion looked touched. "Ah, buggar me, I actually believe you."
"I stand by my friends Tyrion." He winked. "And I beat them in cyvasse." And sent Tyrions king to meet the gallows grinning. "Lets play again."
Authors note: Well, this was a long chapter in length and it took longer than I wanted to finish, but I got it done! As always I enjoy reading the comments. Next up As High as Honor!
Link to A Falcon of Summer Discord. /ffEQGR43Mz