Author's Notes: Welcome back to another chapter of TDR! I want to thank everyone who continues on the journey of this story, especially as we approach the end. I'm not sure I would've ever reached the end without your support and now it's not too long now that you'll be reading the final chapter. Thank you, everyone, who has given their support. Your words of encouragement, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions are all important to me!

Of course, this would've been so much more difficult without my beta, Catzrko0l. Thank you so much for continuing to read and edit this story for me. It's so much better for your input.

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Chapter 139

Dear Jaime,

Lady Sansa is now officially betrothed to Lord Willas Tyrell. Given that the future Lord Tyrell is master of law, the wedding is set to be held in King's Landing. However, he has informed me that he will be returning to Highgarden with Sansa to get her acquainted with the household and he's unclear when or if he will return to his duties as master of law. I will be looking closely at future candidates, so let me know if you have any suggestions.

On that note, you'll be happy to hear that I have finally selected the seventh and final member of the Kingsguard: Ser Andrew Tollett. Of the names we had, most were untested knights and they were invited to demonstrate their skills. I will admit to some affinity for Ser Andrew Tollett because there was a man in the Night's Watch with the Tollett name. Dolorous Edd, we called him. His form was near perfect, but he needs more speed and experience. That will come with time. I know he will make a fine addition to the Kingsguard.

I am happy to announce that Daenerys and I are expecting again! It's not enough that Aemma commands the household, we need another babe. I'm dearly hoping for a boy, but you know how these things are. Aemma's only a year old, and I know it's a bit much to expect her to want to train at some point, but she seems rather drawn to dresses and dolls.

Still no word on the Blackfyre, but David is convinced that Varys was in his employ. It would explain why information on him has been so scarce. He was last seen sacking the villages in the Red Waste. What he hoped to accomplish, I'm not sure, but perhaps it's easy pickings? Given that Essos is mostly a collection of city-states, I have my concern that none will have the individual strength to repel him if he so chooses to march over them. I've considered reaching out to the likes of Meereen or Qarth to offer my support, but Daenerys is vehemently against helping those who engage in slavery. I can hardly blame her and it's caused some tension between us. What are your thoughts?

I hope you and yours are well,

Aemon

Dear Aemon,

Please pass on my congratulations to your cousin Lady Sansa and Lord Willas. Highgarden is lovely and I'm sure your cousin will thrive there as the future Lady Tyrell.

Ser Andrew Tollett sounds like a respectable candidate for the Kingsguard. If I recall, they're quite close with House Rhoyce. If not a Rhoyce, a Tollett should be just as good. I look forward to assessing your Kingsguard the next time I see them. It's a pity you couldn't uproot the Blackfish from his roost. I'd feel much better if he was your last recruit, but he's about as reluctant to join the Kingsguard as I was to leave it.

I'm pleased to hear that your family continues to grow. The desire for a boy is obvious given the pressure to produce an heir. I can only imagine Lady Margaery Stark wishing for you to have the same so she can marry her own daughter to him in the future.

Still some weeks before our second child graces us with its presence. Neither of us particularly cares whichever gender it is, we just want it to be born healthy. She gets to name this one as it will likely inherit Tarth.

As for giving aid to any one place in Essos, my primary concern is the difficulty in waging war across an ocean. Dragonstone is difficult in and of itself, and it's a single island just off our mainland. There are leagues between us and Essos with no way to respond quickly to an incident. I'd prefer we strengthen our shores and merely keep a weather eye out. If you do attempt to aid Meereen or Qarth, you may also find resistance from the Faith. Remember, the Faith of the Seven bans slavery, so they are apt to side with the queen on this.

Jaime

To Lord Jaime Lannister, Warden of the West, and master of war,

I have news, though how promising it is remains to be seen. We finished our forge in the Dragonpit. Their Graces, King Aemon and Queen Daenerys, were on hand to assist with their dragons. Drogon is quite large now, far larger than a horse, and intimidating. The king insisted that we use Rhaellon or Rhaegal first.

Master Mott sent his apprentice Gendry Waters out to attempt to tame the dragonfire into melting steel first. I feared for the boy, but he did admirably in the face of such danger. The king kept his dragon well in hand, though it was rather excitable, not unlike a puppy.

Instead of using fresh steel, we have decided to melt down old swords of little use to start. The resulting steel is of questionable quality, but once the metal is quenched, we noted that the steel bears the shadow of Rhaegal's flame and shines a faint green when the light hits just right.

Given that Valyrian steel lacks this particular quality, we doubt dragonflame is in the original formula, but perhaps it imparted some other aspects. A famous quality of Valyrian steel is that its edge never dulls, but that would require sustained use over a period of time, so it's uncertain if this is a new type of Valyrian steel or simply a pretty sword.

I will continue to write to you about any new developments.

David

Dear Jaime,

I wish I had known the Blackfish as you know him. I've heard the stories, of course, but my opinion of him cooled after he abandoned his post at the Eyrie and allowed the people there to escape and spread the word of what I'd done there. I have my suspicions that Baelish deliberately uprooted him, but suspicions only.

Speaking of the Eyrie, I've brokered a deal with Lord Edmure Tully about his sister, Lady Lysa Arryn. It's been too long since she last confessed and it seems she has become even more maddened and frail with the imprisonment in her own castle. She will not be tried for Lord Jon Arryn's murder. I have instead allowed her to be moved to Riverrun as a permanent resident in exile, to be far away from her son Lord Robin Arryn. Lord Andar Royce has been charged with the little lord's proper education. My hope is that without his mother's coddling, he will finally be able to grow beyond being a mere babe. Although the murder of the Hand of the King, the Warden of the East, the Lord Arryn of the Vale is a serious crime, it could be easily argued that Lord Baelish forced the lady's hand for his own dirty deeds. I have my doubts that killing a maddened lady would improve my standing as king.

Lady Margaery must first contend with Lord Doran Martell. After my Uncle Viserys died, I had to salvage the deal by brokering another marriage, this one contingent on the heirs that are born to me and Dany. I have little doubt they'll press for the prince's hand should one be born.

I hear your concerns about waging war across the sea and agree with them. I think we will just have to bide our time. The dragons grow with every day, so a successful invasion by a usurper becomes more unlikely. While we are preparing for a different war, we're still preparing and should be ready for any threats.

Give my best to you and yours.

Aemon

Dear Jon,

Lord Stannis Baratheon has requested another 500 soldiers as he manages the wildlings. I am sending his requested number and am beseeching Lord Umber for yet more just to be sure. Although they agreed for certain habits to subside, it is proving challenging to monitor all of them. The other northern lords aren't best pleased about potential murderers, thieves, and rapists roaming the land, though they are aware of the stakes and support this endeavor.

Lady Margaery and I are thrilled to hear of your growing family. Two months before little Ned's second nameday, Margaery birthed a little girl and named her Olenna. I fear the day our daughter may meet her great-grandmother. A young wolf as thorny as her mother's house promises an endless amount of trouble. I can only imagine the amount of mischief little Olenna and Arya would get up to if she were here.

I have not yet heard news of Bran or his escort. I hadn't thought to ask how long Bran's endeavor may take, but I pray to the Old Gods that he is alive and well.

Winter is coming, Your Grace, and we will be ready for it.

Robb

Arya III

She swept along the corridors towards Jon's solar. Her pace was brisk and she had a thoughtful frown as she tried to figure out just why Jon might summon her.

Although her mentors in Brienne, Dacey, and Maege had all ventured North, Jon hadn't allowed her training to lapse. He entreated his own Kingsguard to work with her. After a combination of the Hound's and Ser Daemon's rigorous training, she was now sweeping many of the other boys who'd already been chosen to squire. Only Edric and Jon's squire Olyvar even stood a chance against her.

It made the boys quite sullen and annoying to train with. More than once, she'd tossed her lathe and simply lunged at the boy to start pummeling him with her fists. While the grown-ups were quick to pull them apart, the Kingsguard had no sympathy for her opponents and oft sent them to do further rigorous training. They chided her on her conduct and reported back to Jon, who frequently grounded her.

"Just keep the sword in your hand and strike them with that. Then it's called training," the Hound had said to her with a sneer and a shake of his head.

She knew he was right, but it felt so much more satisfying feeling her knuckles connect to their cheeks. Two received a black eye and she couldn't keep from smirking and saying, "I think a girl gave you that." It was immensely satisfying to menace them and watch them flinch. The only ones who weren't intimidated by it were Edric and Olyvar.

Ser Barristan and the Hound were standing outside the king's solar and they both nodded to her as she approached. Ser Barristan reached over and knocked on the door.

"Lady Arya, Your Grace."

She made a face at him, but didn't bother correcting him. She'd done so a dozen times already and it had not shifted him a bit. She thought she heard the Hound chuckle, but she paid little attention to him as she entered.

She looked around curiously. The beauty of the room eluded her as she searched. "Is little Aemma in her room?" Arya asked.

Jon smiled at her. "Either that or Dany has taken her to the gardens. We can go find them after we speak."

Arya smiled. She couldn't see herself bearing children and sitting in the gardens knitting clothes for them like a proper lady, but that didn't stop her from adoring her little brothers and now Aemma. They were technically cousins, but Arya often referred to herself as "aunt" and neither Jon nor Dany bothered to correct her. She was certain she'd love little Ned just as much. He was her favorite part of receiving letters from Robb. "What is it?"

"As you're aware, Sansa's betrothal has been formalized. She and Lord Willas will be marrying in a matter of months," Jon began.

Arya rolled her eyes. "As if I hadn't heard. It's all Sansa will talk about. She was unbearable before all of this!"

She and Sansa still didn't get along. When Arya was forced into her sewing class, she honestly couldn't keep herself from sniping at Sansa who had continued to regale her with her airy dreams. She'd thought all women were like mother or Sansa, but it had relieved her to no end to finally meet the likes of Brienne and Dacey. She even liked the queen. Though the queen always looked nice and was beautiful, she shared Arya's distaste for sewing and many other lady-like pursuits, though it was a secret kept between them. It still warmed Arya that they shared that annoyance. Jon was happy to allow her to train, he still insisted that he couldn't entirely dismiss her from the education of a lady. Arya also wanted to do better after having met Lucille, who had to help sew clothes for her own family and the poor they served in Flea Bottom.

"I'm ready for her to leave for Highgarden," Arya added.

Jon snorted. "I know your relationship is … fraught at the best of times, but you are sisters. Once Sansa leaves, you're unlikely to see her again. Consider at least trying to make good with her."

Arya narrowed her eyes, "Who put you up to this?"

His smile only grew wider. "Lady Catelyn, of course. And now that I've done my due diligence on her behalf, let's discuss what her letter means for you."

She stiffened and began to feel her heart pounding.

He noticed the look on her face and nodded as if he could follow the trail of her thoughts. "Lady Catelyn has already expressed that she and Rickon will be attending Sansa's wedding, traveling by boat from White Harbor. When she's here, she is going to insist on making a match for you."

"But you can stop her, can't you?" Arya whispered, trying to look hopeful. But this reminded her of the conversation they'd had in Winterfell when he had told her she was to marry.

"I cannot, Arya. I am the king, but I govern the realm. It would be overreach for me to attempt to govern the affairs of houses. As long as Robb agrees to it, you will eventually be married," Jon explained.

Arya felt herself wilt and she willed herself not to cry. She refused to allow this news to defeat her. In her heart, she knew this was coming. She'd started her moon's blood two months previously. The septa had helped her clean up and Queen Daenerys had come to her with a better explanation. She was endlessly grateful that they had taken pains to keep Sansa from learning about it, though it had eventually leaked out.

She hated the bleeding! It ruined her bed and her clothes nearly every night while it happened. Worse yet, it had brought on a wave of cramps that she struggled not to show. She'd been forced to drink tea to ebb the pain, but it only served to make her even more short-tempered than she'd been before.

Though they had kept it from Sansa, she rather doubted Jon had kept it from her mother.

"You don't need marriage to feel like a death sentence," Jon said.

She scowled. "That's easy for you to say. You're a boy! You get to fight in wars and you're not the one bearing children. I'll be expected to just sit, be pretty, and make nice! I don't want children!"

Jon sighed. "I wish I could give you that hope of avoiding marriage forever, but I can't. However, you need not simply let fate carry you away. You do have some control over this."

She was afraid to speak lest he hear the sob in her voice, so she merely screwed up her face in a look of disbelief.

"You can control who you marry. Whether you think training is meant for it or not, you're making connections among the boys. I know Olyvar likes you."

She blanched. Olyvar was a nice boy and had always treated her respectfully. However, she had learned a great deal about the Freys and the huge family repulsed her. Although she and Sansa squabbled, they were hardly cutthroat to one another. That was not the case with the Freys. It seemed like everyone fought over every scrap, whether it was clothing, food, or favor to Lord Frey. Being married into the family sounded like a nightmare.

Jon chuckled at her look. "Olyvar is a good man. He will be getting his own keep once I've knighted him as well. But the Freys altogether … leave a lot to be desired. This is just between you and me."

Arya smirked.

"And then, of course, there's Edric. A Dayne! You would be able to see Dawn. Likely not wield it, but perhaps one of your children would be able to claim Dawn one day. Do you think either of these men would forbid you from continuing your sword training?" he asked.

Arya thought about it. She did like Edric and she felt her cheeks warm at the thought of him. Though looks hardly mattered to her, he was handsome, especially his violet eyes. He was not afraid to joke and before she'd been required to take a chaperone for their private meetings, he was unafraid to use crass language. Of the two boys, she'd gotten to know him best without an adult overshadowing their meetings. She had seen the real him.

"I cannot keep you from being married, but I will support you if you set your heart on a certain man," Jon said, his amusement having fallen away to a more somber look.

Once again she felt the emotion rising up in her throat. Marriage had been a specter that was hanging over her life since the day she was born. Though she could hardly remember it, her mother had constantly impressed upon her the importance of marrying well from a very young age. Arya had scoffed and pushed against it, but she was beginning to see that though she'd put up a good fight, she was about to lose the war. Perhaps Jon was right about getting ahead of her mother.

She also considered briefly disappearing into the city, but what would that do for her? She'd disappeared beneath the palace during the coup and only heard later, after being discovered, the monumental effort that had gone into finding her, and Lord Lannister had been in charge. Jon would tear the city apart looking for her, much to her irritation.

Even if I did leave, where would I go? Essos was the only option and it was intimidating to go alone. She'd want Edric with her, but she knew duty was as important to him as it had been to her father. He'd never abandon his house for her, especially since he was the sole heir.

"I think that's enough for one day. Shall we go see Aemma and Dany?" Jon said, his cheery smile returned.

Arya smiled back and nodded, but as they walked, she kept her head down as she thought. Her good humor had now been replaced with sadness and unease. Why does it have to be like this? she thought woefully.

"Marriage doesn't have to be a death sentence," Jon had told her. She did like that her mother and father had loved each other. She'd heard often that it was unlikely for ladies to end up with someone they loved, let alone liked. Though Robb and Margaery had been unbearable, seemingly unable to tear their eyes from one another, Arya had still been secretly glad that Robb was happy, even if Margaery was not anyone she could be friends with. As a family, Jon, Dany, Sansa, and she had shared a dinner with the Tyrells many a time. She personally found Willas too old. He was clever and bright and always knew a good joke. Though Arya found it boring to talk about hawking and horse breeding endlessly, she'd noticed that Sansa was hopelessly enthralled. It made Arya want to roll her eyes, but was it so bad that her sister found something to love about her intended? She did love having friends. What was a potential husband but a similarly dear friend?

Her thoughts were jogged as they walked out into the gardens and found Dany giggling as she tried to feed Aemma pureed raspberries that ended up all down the front of her dress, making her look like she'd been eating bloody meat. Arya's heart swelled and her melancholy disappeared as Aemma caught sight of her and squealed. The little girl got to her feet and rushed over.

"Hello there, Aemmy!" Arya shouted, rushing forward to envelope her into a hug.

Sansa I

"You're starting to get really good at those," Olene said. She was one of Margaery's many cousins.

Sansa smiled back graciously. "Thank you. If I'm to be Lady Tyrell, I should know how to do the sigil," she replied matter-of-factly. She'd started practicing from nearly the moment she'd heard of her betrothal to Lord Willas. She loved being a dire wolf, but she hardly minded the change and it was far easier to sew flowers into her dresses than wolves. Another piece she'd been working on was a golden rose with Lady's face in the middle. Despite Sansa's assurances, the other ladies feared Lady, so she was only able to work on it in the godswood, where her wolf happily awaited her. Now that they were fully grown, they were too big to be walked in the corridors. Though Sansa had never had any reason to feel unsafe, it did please her to have such a strong and obedient wolf at her side.

Not like Nymeria, Sansa thought with a frustrated sigh. No matter what she said, Arya refused to tame her wild wolf. She and Arya were often made to visit the godswood together. Sansa would purse her lips in disapproval as Arya and Nymeria streaked through the godswood at top speed, Arya whooping and hollering the whole time.

Their mother would never have approved! When she brought it up to Queen Daenerys, the queen would simply shrug her shoulders and say, "Let her have her fun. Time enough for propriety when she's older."

She didn't dare bring it up with His Grace. He had enough to do without minding Arya, though she had seen him bring Arya around his daughter. Aemma was the cutest little girl that Sansa had ever seen, with her Stark black hair and violet eyes. She was always so happy; it warmed Sansa's heart that Aemma would toddle over to her and hold out her arms in a demand to be in her lap, which she could never refuse. While holding her, Sansa would often imagine it was her own daughter.

Finally, her marriage was just four months away. Her good-sister, Margaery, had married at six-and-ten, yet she'd been made to wait until she was seven-and-ten, much to her frustration. She wondered if the delay had been a natural consequence of the king having so much to do, since he'd been gone nearly six months for the Ironborn invasion, or due to her father's wishes? She knew that he'd insisted on waiting until she was older. It pained her that he would no longer be able to attend and walk her down the aisle, as was the role of a father. She was currently unsure who would walk her down. Though she and Aemon hadn't been the most cordial growing up, he still treated her kindly and gave her respect. She was mortified by her past behavior and was doing her best to make amends. It still sounded far too presumptuous to ask the king, of all people, to walk her down the aisle. Ser Garlan was another possibility. She'd heard her mother was bringing Rickon and she thought it would be adorable for him to walk her down. There was still enough time to decide.

Sansa was pulled out of her thoughts when a young Tyrell guard stopped just outside of the circle, drawing all of their attention. He was young and nervous, so Sansa smiled kindly at him.

"Lady Sansa Stark?" he asked, his eyes roving them.

"Yes," she said, smoothing out her skirt and standing. "What may I do for you?"

"Forgive me, Lady Sansa, but Lady Olenna has asked for you," he said, with a courteous bob of his head.

"Oh?" Sansa asked. She caught the cousins giving each other looks.

"Yes, she wishes to speak to you about your upcoming wedding to Lord Willas, my lady."

"Very well, we shall not tarry then," Sansa replied, turning around to place her sewing on her chair.

"Good luck," Olene said, with a pinched smile.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Sansa replied, but her own smile twitched and there was a tremble in her voice.

Lady Olenna had attended several of Margaery's tea parties and sewing get-togethers before she left. Sansa had seen more than once one or other of the cousins get barbed by the older lady for the most innocuous of things. Sansa was so appalled at the lack of courtesy, but it would've been the height of rudeness to say so. When Lady Olenna continued to be droll and terse, Sansa swiftly realized the lady was perfectly content with her rudeness.

She remembered asking Margaery about it in as polite of a fashion as possible. Margaery had merely laughed it away and said, "She is best known for being the Queen of Thorns. Be careful you don't get pricked." Margaery had winked at her, but Sansa could understand the warning for what it was.

Whenever Lady Olenna was in her vicinity, she fell back on her courtesies and remained unfailingly polite. Lady Olenna had been equally courteous back, though with a few wry remarks here and there. It suggested to Sansa that her barbs were reserved mainly for family familiar with her manner.

A pair of guards stood outside the door and one of them reached over to open it at her approach. She smiled at them and walked in.

Lady Olenna herself was seated at a beautiful polished red oak desk with an array of books and parchment in front of her. She didn't even acknowledge Sansa's approach, which put a burr in Sansa's brain. As she stood there, waiting for her to finish writing, she did eventually take the seat in front of the desk and allowed herself to look around. The room was not very big, but it had gold and green tapestries of House Tyrell behind her. There was also a bookcase filled with books, but it included an ornate vase of flowers, none of which were roses that Sansa could see.

Still, Lady Olenna's quill scratched away and Sansa began to follow her writing. She could not read it from that distance, but the setting chafed at her. She'd been utterly appalled when King Aemon had appointed Lady Olenna as Mistress of Coin. No woman had ever been appointed as a member of the small council and it had caused a fair amount of discussion and scandal. It was simply uncouth. Though Lady Olenna was long past her childbearing years, she still had a role as a grandmother and mother. Sansa thought that was where her real focus should be.

It was the one thing that she and Margaery had differed on. Margaery had been thrilled that her grandmother had been appointed to the small council. She'd gushed about it for weeks during their tea parties and sewing circles. The cousins and other ladies had nodded and whispered in similar excitement, making Sansa feel the odd one out.

A lady on the small council? Sansa thought, with a dismissive shake of her head. It just wasn't done.

Lady Olenna made a contemplative noise that made Sansa straighten up. No matter whether she approved or not, this was her soon-to-be good-grandmother. The older woman finally turned her attention to her and smiled.

"Lady Sansa, it's good of you to join me. I must say, your manners are impeccable. And with the blood of the Starks, I have no doubt you will be an asset as Lady Tyrell," Lady Olenna said.

Sansa beamed. "Thank you, my lady."

"However, there is more to being Lady Tyrell than having a pretty face and good manners. This is the Reach. The Starks have the total loyalty of the North and have so for generations unending, but the Tyrells never ruled as kings. We were stewards under House Gardener before King Aegon and his queens burnt them all alive with their dragons. We were raised to Lord of Highgarden when Harlen Tyrell pledged fealty to King Aegon. This has caused many within the Reach to dispute our claim. While things may appear to be at peace, there is always turmoil brewing beneath the surface of the Reach."

Sansa nodded eagerly.

"Given that your mother is a Tully, I am appalled at your lack of education," Olenna said with a dismayed click of her tongue.

Sansa was aghast. "I don't understand. I've been taught to manage a household, my embroidery is perfect as my septa has long praised—"

"Who gives a damn about embroidery? While knowing how to run a household is commendable, there are servants for that. Politics, girl, what do you know of it?" Lady Olenna snapped, her good humor gone.

"P-politics?"

"Yes, girl, politics. Give me an example of the politics in the North."

"Well, uh, well, I …."

"See? Nothing! Now Margaery seems to think you have the potential for being a great lady of the Reach. Pray you prove her right," Olenna replied with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "You will come here every morning after breakfast and I will teach you what it really means to be a Lady of Highgarden."

Sansa swallowed nervously.