The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon

by Alperez16

Two lives are taken and two not, changing the game forever. Jon Snow is raised by his uncle Benjen to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Rhaella Targaryen escapes to Essos to raise her children and plot her revenge.

16. Another Fine Melee You've Gotten Me Into

Highgarden, 295 AC.

Lady Bethany Stark.

Contrary to Jon and Brandon, she had very much enjoyed the journey at sea. She mocked them more than once, as seeing almost grown men moan like green boys was hilariously so unlike them.

At times she had thought about Asha and what she said about the sea, how freeing and emotional gliding through the waves was, and Beth couldn't agree more. She was sad too that her friend couldn't join them for the tourney, her father explaining that Asha was bound to stay in Winterfell because of her status as a prisoner. Thankfully, Domeric was allowed to join them by his father, which in turn had alleviated some of the sadness her cousin felt at seeing Loras leave two moons ago.

The young Lord from Highgarden had formally bid them farewell sooner than they thought, as he wished to help his brother with the wedding. Domeric and Loras had said their farewells in private the night before and Beth's friend had then said his goodbyes to the rest of the fosterlings with his eyes full of tears.

"You'll come with Jon to the wedding, won't you?" he asked her hesitantly.

"Of course I will." She exclaimed as she tackled him with a hug.

"Watch over him for me, please," he said as he hugged her back.

"I promise."

Beth had since upheld her promise to her friend, shadowing Domeric's every step. At first, her cousin didn't talk much, but he always allowed her into his rooms when he was playing his sorrow on his harp. Then he began opening up to her and now as she strolled on the ship's deck, he was back to his former self, japing and playing around with Meera and Brandon.

Jon on the other hand got ever more somber as the days grew closer to departing for Highgarden. Beth had thought that the prospect of seeing his mother afterward would bring him out of his shell, yet he seemed more gloomy than ever about having to spend time in the South.

"He must remember how it went during the tourney of Lannisport." Brandon had shrugged when she'd pointed it out. "He got in a lot of trouble with Father for betting with the King, and we had to spend time with Prince Joffrey while there as well. Gods, I hope we won't have to get through this again."

"Surely you exaggerate," Beth said.

"He was your age and we thought you less annoying than him. Is that telling enough for you?" Bran japed.

"I've always been less annoying than you are, Stupid!" She retorted, narrowly avoiding being elbowed by her brother.

He might have been right in the end, as Jon seemed to relax at the gates of Highgarden when he heard the words said by Mace Tyrell.

"Be welcome, my Lord Stark. Lord Benjen, Lord Brandon, Lady Bethany, Lords and Ladies of the North. We thank you for coming in numbers to my son's wedding and tourney celebration."

"We thank you for inviting us, Lord Tyrell. We wouldn't have missed Ser Garlan's wedding for the world."

"Would that all think the same as you do, Lord Stark." Lord Mace said. "The King and Queen declined our invitation, both for the wedding and the tourney.

"Oh. That's unfortunate." Jon said, his posture changing to a more relaxed one.

"It seems that some cannot see past supposed slights of the past. Mayhaps one day."

"That is all I wish for you and your family, my Lord." Jon seemed to agree, though his Lord's face was back when he shook the Lord of Highgarden's hand.

They all went down the line to greet everyone who stood there. After congratulating Ser Garlan and his betrothed for their upcoming wedding, Beth was happy to see Loras waiting for her with a smile.

"Long time no see, my Lady." He greeted her, winking as he knew how irritated the honorifics made her.

"You're lucky you're in your home and not in Winterfell, my Lord. Else, I would have kicked your arse for enjoying it so much."

"Loras?" his sister said with worry.

"Just a playful banter, Marge." Loras barely turned toward his sister, his eyes still on Beth's face as he spoke "Which reminds me, will you give me your favor during the tourney?"

"You're participating?" Beth gasped.

"Of course I am! We have to show these fools from the South how good and true someone trained in the North can be!"

"Then we'll see," she said, turning to Margaery and frowning as she saw her smile at her.

"Welcome to Highgarden, Lady Bethany."

"Thank you, Lady Margaery."

"I am so glad you came! I was afraid I would never be able to repay you for your kindness to my brother." Margaery stated. "Loras told me so many great stories about you. He also told me that you made him feel like he was a part of your family."

"He is to all of us Starks."

"Oh, of course. I cannot wait to show you around. Our gardens are different from your glass gardens, but I hope you'll enjoy them the same!"

"I… Hope I will, my Lady." Beth said, confused by the change in Margaery. Looking around she found out her brother looked just as lost as she was by how the lady was acting.

"Please, call me Margaery, at least. Oh, your direwolf is so poised! She's Lynara, right?"

"Aye, I'm surprised you remembered her name since you wanted nothing to do with them last we spoke," Beth remarked, only to be called out by Jon who was in front of the line. "My apologies."

"No need. Please make yourself comfortable and I hope we'll talk later." Margaery said, still smiling but less openly than before. Mayhap because she had been reminded of how she had acted in Winterfell.

"Do you think they gave her a drought of some sort?" Beth whispered to her brother as they moved on the line.

"She was still snippy with Jon so I don't think that's it."

"Mayhaps she's more agreeable when she's not cold." She mused, making Bran laugh.

A little while later, Beth was pleasantly surprised to meet Mira Forrester again. She was supposed to come and serve as lady in waiting for her that year, but the Tyrells offered to foster her and Beth only hoped that Margaery had been nice to her since then.

"Lady Margaery has been much happier since her brother returned," Mira answered when she asked her just that. "She has missed him very much throughout the years and so she has much rejoiced at the news of him asking to stay for good."

"Oh," Beth whispered, not knowing how to respond to that.

"Are you well, Lady Beth?"

"I told you to stop all this your Lady nonsense already," Beth grumbled.

"You seemed sad when I mentioned Lord Loras, Beth." Mira pointed out.

"I… I had the impression that he had been asked to stay, but I might be mistaken."

"He had been called back for the wedding, but it was he who asked to stay home when he arrived."

"I see…" Beth said, realizing the reason why he had chosen to leave Winterfell for good. "I just missed him, that's all. I've seen him every day for the past few years, and now he's just… gone."

"So now you can imagine the relief Lady Margaery felt in having her brother back?"

"I do," Beth said distractedly.

"Is there something else? Are you and Lord Loras… Infatuated?"

"What? No! Not at all! We're just friends!" Beth exclaimed, blushing with embarrassment.

"He asked for your favor, didn't he?" Mira smiled. "Lady Margaery had nagged him during the luncheon about that."

"Oh, this? 'Tis just a promise he made me to one day run with a northern favor to show he has been trained there and is still a friend of the North."

"I'm glad he enjoyed his time in Winterfell and proudly acknowledges his training."

"Aye. He is as proud as a Northman, this one. And how is life in the South treating you?"

"Things are… interesting, to say the least. I miss Ironrath, but I am well treated and besides some arguments between the lady and her grandmother, everything is pretty calm here."

"Arguments?"

"Forgive me, Beth. I shouldn't have… They've welcomed me, and here I am, gossiping."

"I understand, you miss your home and it's good to have someone you can talk openly with. Loras and Jon told me how difficult it can be to trust people in the South, and I don't want you to break your lady's own trust in you.."

"Thank you for your understanding. Could you… ask your Lord Father or Lord Jon something for me?"

"Anything, Mira."

"I haven't had any news from my brother for a few moons…"

"Oh, yes! Jon has been busy touring North and then he wanted to deliver the letter to you himself."

"So Asher is well?" Mira asked, visibly relieved.

"Aye, he is. I'm sorry Jon hasn't sent at least a raven to explain it himself. That is so unlike him to be forgetful."

"As long as my brother is safe, I do not care. Lord Jon has done so much already, I will not blame him for this."

Beth didn't insist, yet she felt unsettled by Jon's lack of care. She didn't think about it for long, for Margaery Tyrell caught her and Wylla Manderly by surprise. The Lady invited them both for a stroll in the gardens by their Sept. It was an impressive monument, and while she didn't keep to the faith of the Seven, she couldn't help but admire the magnificent statues of the Gods.

"The wedding will take place here. My cousins and I will finish decorating the sept with flowers in two days."

"I'm certain that it will be most gorgeous. We do flower arrangements with Mother when we receive guests, so if you need more hands to make it ready in time, then I'm sure Wylla and Meera will love to help too." Beth offered and Margaery smiled even more as Beth's friend nodded excitedly.

"This is so kind of you! I'll tell Mother of your offer, she'll appreciate the help. I didn't know you were the ones doing the arrangements in your keep. You were always busy sparring with the boys, but as far as I remember, they were very nicely done."

"We are well versed in our duties as ladies, as well as being taught much about the harshness of the North. That is why we learn both womanly arts and martial ones."

"Oh, I didn't mean it as a slight!" Margaery quickly explained. "I would probably never understand your customs, but Loras wants me to learn how to wield a knife to protect myself, so I wager he sees a need for me to do so and for him, I'll try."

"He did get his arse kicked by several women from time to time, so he knows what's best." Beth laughed, thinking of how changed Loras was from when he came first to Winterfell.

"Do you think Lynara enjoys the place, Beth? She keeps so close to you whereas she was running freely last time I saw her." Margaery wondered.

"It's the rule whenever we are not home, so our direwolves don't scare away people who are not used to them. We also want them to be safe."

"I understand. Loras and Grandmother have been clear to our servants that no one shall harm them."

"That is very thoughtful of them. Are you excited for the wedding?"

"Yes! It's the first one in my immediate family and soon Leonette will join the household."

"They won't have their own keep?" Beth frowned.

"Highgarden is big enough to host every member of the Tyrell family," Margaery said proudly.

"Jon will rule Winterfell while in due time Bran and Ben will rule over their own keeps. My family will be spread all around the North." Beth said sadly.

"Apart from my father's sisters who joined their husband's keeps, his male cousins and their parents have all stayed here," Margaery explained.

"So, your brothers won't move but you will when you get married?" Wylla asked, making Margaery tense.

"Not for a long time, and hopefully with someone of my choice," Margaery answered clippily.

"As we all wish, Margaery. As we all wish…" Beth sighed. "'Tis not time to think about what could be, though. It pleases me to see both you and Loras happy about the match. Is he with your other brothers?"

"No, he has asked to show the maze to your cousins and brother."

"Right! The maze!" Beth exclaimed. "Loras told us about it. Is it true that there are ghosts there?"

"Of course he would say that," Margaery said, rolling her eyes. "He used to scare me when we played there as children. Once he covered himself with a white sheet and Mother scolded him for giving Ayla more work with cleaning it."

"He tried the same in Winterfell. Mother made him wash the sheet himself."

"I hope he learned his lesson, but I wouldn't put it past him to attempt a prank or two." Margaery chuckled, and Beth was amazed to see that they could bond over this.

Beth spent the rest of their walk laughing with Margaery about Loras' antics and the inventive ways her mother managed to punish all of them. By the time they got back to her rooms, Beth had been invited the next day by the Rose of Highgarden to ride with her. Margaery even went as far as to extend her invitation to Meera Reed, who gasped when she heard of it during the feast that night.

"Turns out she is quite nice when she doesn't fear dying because of the weather," Beth said. "She even apologized for the way she acted in Winterfell."

"Send word to the Wall, Bran. The Others are coming." Meera japed.

"I may actually take you on that." Brandon chuckled. "Have you noticed what they served us for dessert? No apple pie!"

"Aye. Lord Mace had ordered quite a few barrels of Tree Sap. And I think they're keeping the apples for the wedding feast. You know, with the bride being from House Fossoway." Beth shrugged as Brandon deflated.

"Still, to serve it to that many people! I heard some of them wonder where it came from."

"It will please Jon and Father both."

"I only hope we can produce enough for our people and them."

"If not, you know Jon will favor us," Meera reported. "He always does."

"True." Beth agreed, frowning as she looked at the High Table where her cousin sat next to Loras, both of them staring at their table longingly for different reasons.

Though being in conversation with their friend, she could see Jon was not enjoying the moment. His Lord's face was on whenever he was not talking to Loras, and Margaery next to him was completely ignoring him.

"Some things change, yet some don't," Domeric whispered in her ear.

"Why would she be nice to us and not to Jon?"

"Love can make you do foolish things. As well as hatred. The two of them are two sides of a coin, so similar yet different." Domeric answered cryptically.

Later, as she danced with her cousin and her friends, Beth kept her eyes glued on Margaery Tyrell, wondering on what side the coin had flipped for the Rose of Highgarden to glare this openly at Jon.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Lady Meera Reed.

Meera only came on this visit to Highgarden because Jon had asked her to. She would have been happy staying in Winterfell, with Lady Stark, Little Ben, and Jory Mormont, who had been barred from coming by her family. The animus still running high given the feud between them and the Tyrells.

She felt ridiculous in her outfit. Both Lady Stark and Beth had insisted she had to wear a dress if she had to attend Ser Garlan's wedding, and that she had to wear her house's colors. So she had relented and made the mistake of giving them leave to make it from scratch.

Staring at her reflection in the looking glass, she prayed to the Gods she would not stand out and be noticed. The shadows were ever her friend and she hoped to hide herself amongst them while here.

Green was supposed to blend with nature, not to reveal someone to the world. Though given how the Tyrells used the same color as the Reeds and incorporated it in ways Meera hadn't thought possible, she should have known better than to allow Beth to meddle. The dress was hugging far too much of her body, and the fabric was much too thin for her taste.

"You look like a vision from the Gods!" Beth exaggerated.

"Oh please!" Meera scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I looked like a cheap version of Margaery Tyrell playing dress up with a leather bodice."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I like this version best," Brandon said with a wink, making her blush.

"You like everyone more than you do her." Beth pointed out.

"I was complimenting Meera and you had to spoil it," Bran grumbled.

"Don't pout, Bran. I take it as it was meant and I thank you for your attempt."

"I bet Jon will be speechless when he sees you!" Wylla exclaimed and Meera frowned.

"Not you too, Wylla!" she growled. "I had enough of it yesterday with the Golden Rose, I don't think I can handle you teasing me too."

"She made a good point, though. You're always together and you two are pretty close."

"And I would answer to anyone by pointing this out the same as I did yesterday. I see Jon Stark as I see my brother Jojen. Nothing more. You better than anyone should know this, Bethany."

The young lady hung her head down in shame and Meera almost regretted talking harshly before remembering the discussion they all had the day before when they were working on the floral pieces for the wedding.

Meera had felt so out of place, wearing her breeches whilst, besides Beth, all the young ladies present were wearing dresses. They had spent the previous day riding through the lush meadows surrounding Highgarden, and Meera felt as content as she did when she was in the Wolfswood. She had also seen the nice side of Margaery Tyrell, the one previously seen by Beth, and she started believing she could enjoy her stay there.

Yet as she heard the giggles and snickers when she entered the room, she knew it would not be one of the good days.

"Be nice, cousins. Our guests are here to help." Margaery Tyrell's chiding voice grated on Meera's nerves.

Taking her seat next to Mira Forrester, who gave her an apologetic smile, Meera tried blending in with the background of the room as she sought out her familiar to make sure her revenge would be sweet. Spioróg was ready, perched over the Sept's door, waiting for his victim to get out, when Meera's name was cited by the Rose of Highgarden.

"My brother thinks very highly of you, Meera."

"Who, me?" Meera asked, looking at her homonym who just smiled at her.

"Oh true, we have two Miras now!" Margaery laughed. "Yes, Lady Reed, I was talking about you. Loras said there were not as many people knowledgeable with flowers and herbs as you in Winterfell besides the heir of Skagos and the Maester."

"That's way too much praise for someone like me."

"Yet look at your arrangements! You have a talent for it, truly!" Lady Leonette exclaimed. "If I may boldly ask, do you know how to weave a wedding headdress?"

"Of course, my Lady. We do simple wreaths for ceremonies in the Neck, and elaborate ones for weddings."

"Wonderful! Would you be so kind as to make one for me tomorrow? I know, it's a lot to ask, but —"

"It's your day, my lady. I will be honored to do so." Meera said, feeling the bride's excitement to be genuine. "Just bring the fresh flowers you want me to work with, and I'll have them incorporated into your hairstyle."

"Thank you, Lady Reed."

"Think nothing of it." Meera dismissed, not liking the attention or the honorifics.

"You're a surprising woman, Meera Reed," Margaery noted. "One would wonder why you're not betrothed yet."

"I could say the same about you, Margaery. We're one year apart, after all." Meera smirked when she saw the other girl tense.

"Do you have any prospects? Are you looking for a betrothal in the North?"

"I will be content with whatever my father would find for me, should he think me worthy of a union."

"Why wouldn't you be? You're talented, as I said, loved by most of those who fostered with you and I heard rumors of you being extremely close to Jon Stark," Margaery said, but the crannogwoman felt the backhanded compliment wasn't sincere.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Meera asked coldly.

"Well, from what I saw when we traveled to Winterfell, one can ask if there is nothing more between the two of you." Margaery raised an eyebrow as she stared at her.

"Jon is like a brother to me. What you call closeness is simply a sibling bond. And I have no intention of leaving the Neck when my fostering time will end."

"It's a shame, truly. I would think any lady in the North would jump at the occasion to be tied to the Warden of the North. Unless he is not someone you want to be tied with?"

"Jon is dutiful and loyal to his countrymen. Which is why every lady in the North knows they don't need to be tied with their future Warden to obtain any favor from him." Meera countered harshly.

"Such fire, such passion. You're so quick to defend him. Are you really certain nothing is going on between you?" Margaery challenged.

"Margaery, you're being rude." One of her cousins called out.

"You're right, Desmera. Forgive me, Lady Reed."

"There's nothing to forgive, Lady Tyrell." Meera pressed to show she wasn't sincere. "I understand your worry. After all, you're only looking out for your interests." Meera smirked.

"I… what do you mean?"

"Nothing. Just rumors I heard somewhere. If you'll excuse me, Lady Leonette, send for me when you'll be ready."

Not waiting for any answer, she stood up and left the room in search of her best friend, the only thing calming her down had been the moment her familiar relieved himself over the unsuspecting, then horrified ladies, leaving only the bride and the Northern Ladies unscathed.

"Nice dress." Jon's voice pulled her out of her reminiscing. "You look like a lizard lion ready to eat anyone approaching them."

"Aye, and I feel like it too," she grumbled.

"I guess shitting on them yesterday wasn't enough," he joked.

"I may do it today too, if I feel like it."

"Be nice for today. It's Ser Garlan and Lady Leonette's day. Leave your revenge for tomorrow. I may even join you with Ala if we find anything."

Her mastery of warging had been improving, as well as Jon's who finally managed to bond with a sparrow lately. As for Meera, she also had two familiars but she could use any animal willing to let her in, through proper rewards, be it food, a place to stay, or protection against predators.

After Jon's bond with Ala had strengthened, he'd asked his new companion to follow Móna, her mother's familiar, to Dorne so Jon could see his mother. Unfortunately, the distance made it impossible for him to do so, which aggravated him, but it was Meera's father's words to them that made him fearful of what was to come.

Ever since she heard her father's warning, Meera had been wary of the Tyrells. She knew who the Northern Dragon was, and had figured out his secret while wandering with a mouse through Winterfell. Only then did she inform Jon of what she knew.

"How long have you known?"

"Does it matter? I won't betray you. You know this."

"Aye. Your parents know as well."

"I figured as much. Father was there for your birth, and he said he made a blood oath to your mother."

"You're too wise for your own good."

"What will you make of the warning?" Meera asked.

"I don't know. He spoke about the Rose and the Lion, so it is someone from House Tyrell and House Lannister."

"Would it be Margaery?" she deduced.

"I don't think so. I think it would be Olenna Tyrell." Jon said. "She was in contact with Mother and asked for Loras to foster. And I know King Robert hates them, so she will gain a lot by selling me out."

"But she's the Queen of Thorns. Margaery is the Rose of Highgarden."

"I do not trust either anyway. Do you think we can ask your father to look into it more?" Jon asked tentatively.

"It doesn't hurt to try."

Unfortunately, her father had been unable to get more answers from the Gods. It upset Meera no end, as while she understood they could not spell everything out for them, she would have preferred they said nothing of the sort, especially seeing how Jon reacted to it. So she and her father had instead agreed to watch Olenna, Mace, and Margaery closely so they would truly find out who they should worry about. A large part of her hoped their plan would not uncover troubling news for Jon.

The wedding went smoothly, Ser Garlan stood in all his glory looking as Meera thought a knight would, and she smiled as people commented on Lady Leonette's wonderful hairstyle making the bride seem like the Maiden herself.

They congratulated the newlywed couple and Beth marveled at seeing them both so happy. It was obvious that this was a love union. Not that the Fossoways didn't bring much to the Tyrells politically, rather than according to Loras, as Willas would have to find a suitable wife politically, they didn't begrudge Garlan his choice of a bride.

"Margaery, though… It seems she wants an impossible match." Loras sighed.

"Truly? She has a sight on someone?" Jon asked while Meera listened more intently.

"Aye, she has that idea in her head that she should be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms," Loras said sadly, making both Meera and Jon tense.

"So… She wants to wed Prince Joffrey?" she insisted.

"Yes. She argues with Grandmother about it all the time. Even Father said it would be nothing short of a miracle if Robert Baratheon agreed to it, seeing how much he hates our family. But Marge wants to try anyway. She wanted me to talk to Grandmother, to try and reason with her, but… Grandmother has it out for me since I said I wouldn't go back to Winterfell. I don't want to get in any more trouble for now."

"I thought she would be glad to have you back," Jon said, perplexed.

"But I haven't been knighted yet. I haven't earned my spurs, so she says it is as if I went away for nothing." Loras said in turn. "In a way, she's right, but I… I can't…"

"I know, my friend." Jon patted their friend's shoulder, the desperation in Loras' voice being too much for both of them to bear.

Meera had been made aware of Loras and Domeric's infatuation during her warging, and she had wished never to know such a feeling as Love when she saw the heartbreak it had caused. Loras and Domeric, Asher Forrester, Jorah Mormont, Ashara Dayne, and Lyanna Stark… All of the stories she had ever heard involving love ended in tragedy, and Meera was glad that she had been made to serve the Gods, and not for love.

She could see Domeric's longing looks at his friend-turned-lover as they sat at different tables. Domeric at the one reserved for the Lords and Ladies of the North, with Loras at the High table next to his sister. Meera still couldn't understand why they could not have made the best of the time they still had together. Then again she had never been in love and so she could not imagine being in their place.

"Any leads yet?" Jon asked while Bran whined about having apples served with salmon in their entree.

"Nothing. They haven't talked about you other than asking around if there was something between us."

"It would make sense if they wanted me to wed Margaery, not if they wanted to betray me."

"Would they want this? Truly? I mean I know that was your mother's plan, but…"

"It depends on who they want to back, and since I don't want to follow this path, they may grow tired of waiting."

"You're not sure they know anything, so it's all conjecture at this point."

"What are you two whispering about?" Bran asked loudly, making both of them jump.

"We were trying to figure out if they'll use apples in every meal." Meera lied, knowing it would push Bran to complain even more.

"Well played." Jon chuckled before schooling his features. "They're staring."

Meera looked to the high table and frowned when she saw Olenna, Mace, and Margaery all frowning as they watched them. No doubt that the young lady had spread rumors about them, but did it truly look like they were infatuated with each other?

"Do you think seeing us together will make them talk?" Jon asked in the middle of the meal.

"What do you mean, together?" Meera frowned.

"Well, if we were to dance —"

"I will gut you if you're suggesting what I believe you are." Meera cut him off quickly.

"We need something to make them talk!" Jon whispered through clenched teeth.

"And we will find a way that will not involve me dancing."

"I…"

"Trust me, Jon." she insisted and internally breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded.

"Are there really apple slices served with that pheasant meat?" Bran whined, taking the attention off of her.

For the next while, she ate in silence, her eyes traveling between the three members of the High Table that she had surveyed since their arrival. The music in the hall then changed, indicating it was time for the newlyweds to take to the floor and share their first dance as a married couple.

Meera now let the instincts she had gained from communing with her animals allow her to study each of her targets. Lord Mace was oozing happiness and pride, basking in the grandiosity of his son's wedding. Olenna Tyrell was more relaxed, smiling at Garlan and Leonette, yet her attention was fixed on Jon's every move.

As for Margaery, she had mastered something akin to Jon's Lord face. Her smile when directed to her family and the household was genuine and full of warmth, while every other was one she plastered on for any stranger she interacted with. Each of them seemed as if they were composed and calculated. Though watching her brother dreamily as he danced with his wife let Meera see a side of the girl she didn't expect. Margaery looked like someone who longed for the same outcome as Ser Garlan, mouthing every word of Oh, Lay My Sweet Lass Down in the Grass with sparkly eyes.

Margaery then rushed to get Loras to dance with her as soon as she could, Beth doing the same with Domeric and Meera glared at both Stark cousins who smirked before Brandon asked someone else from their retinue and Jon went back to talking to the Greatjon, much to her relief.

The feast went on and Meera thought of ways to push the Tyrells to talk. She wanted to wait until during the tourney proper, but Jon seemed intent on finding out that night. Turning to look at him, Meera could see how restless he was, even while dancing with his cousin. His eyes were darting to the Tyrells now and then and he tensed every time his gaze caught theirs.

He will turn into a madman if he keeps going this way. she thought.

"And now, my Lords, my Ladies, 'tis time for the bedding!" Mace Tyrell declared, and Meera watched with surprise as all the nobility rushed toward the newlyweds, the men to the bride and women to the groom.

"What is happening?" she asked, confused.

"They are doing the bedding ceremony," Beth explained, clearly not liking it. "They will lift the wedded couple while getting them in their small clothes until they reach their rooms."

"In front of everyone?" Meera gasped, feeling herself blush as some ladies stared at her.

"Aye. They do it in the North too. You never heard of that?" Wylla exclaimed, grabbing her by the hand to pull her to the gathering.

"Wylla, don't you dare -"

"Oh, come now! 'Tis supposed to be fun!"

"It's not!" Meera countered. "Not for me!"

"Stop being a spoilsport for once and come already."

"I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO!" Meera exploded, gasping as all the attention was then focused on her.

The overwhelming embarrassment following her outburst crippled her for a moment. She searched for the nearest exit in despair and, as if her humiliation hadn't been complete, tripped on her new dress, an agonizing pain shooting through her ankle in the meantime.

Meera wanted to cry, even more so when Jon rushed to her side. His worry was more than evident on his face.

"Are you well, Meera?" Beth, ever the nice girl, came to check on her as more people gathered around them.

"My ankle hurts and I want to disappear.." she answered, trying to keep her tears away.

"Here, let me check —" Jon started.

"Don't make a big fuss of this, just help me up and I'll…" she stopped, seeing in her friend's eyes a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "No, Jon, no!"

With no regard for her protests, he picked her up from the floor, cradling her gently.

"Hold onto me, I'll get you out of here," he whispered to her.

"I swear to the Gods I will fucking gut you Jon Stark."

"The Gods gave us the perfect opportunity, let us take it, now."

Sighing loudly, Meera put her arms around Jon and hid her face, which was burning with embarrassment, from the crowd. Muffled though it was, she could hear Jon apologize on her behalf and Mace Tyrell's voice then asking them all to resume the bedding.

"You're so getting your arse kicked after that, cousin!" Brandon laughed as they rushed past him.

"He's right, you are," she growled.

"Don't be a child, it was for the best. Now they will most definitely talk at our expense, and we have to get out of this bedding thing." Jon retorted, not letting her go before she got into her room.

They were surprised later by the appearance of the Maester, who had been sent there by Loras himself, for which she was grateful even though she did not trust the men in grey robes. Even Lord Benjen came to visit her to see if she was well.

"A twisted ankle. I've never twisted it in a spar, in a hunt, even in the worst of winter." she despaired.

"And here you do, trying to escape your greatest enemy. People." Jon japed.

"Not funny."

"Oh, but it was."

"Don't tease her, Jon. She's had enough for the night." Benjen ordered. "I'm leaving a guard next to your room. Send for us if you need anything, Meera."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Meera then sighed loudly as soon as she was alone but she didn't have to dwell on her fate for long, for a little nudge in her mind made it focus on the animal calling for her. She dove into the shared spirit of the mouse, thanking him for his warning.

"The old woman looks angry." He said, letting her see the scene unfolding in front of him.

"And nothing is going on!" her friend Loras exclaimed.

"It doesn't seem like it. Have you seen the way he ran towards her? The way he picked her up?" Olenna Tyrell spat.

"She is his best friend, Grandmother. And knowing Meera, he's probably getting an earful because she was mortified and he made it worse for her." Loras said, making Meera thankful and happy he knew her so well.

"His best friend? Where in the world do you see a man and a woman being best friends without any hidden meaning?" Olenna sneered.

"In the North, Grandmother. As Meera and Jon have been close to each other, Bethany and I have grown to be friends with nothing untoward going on."

"You and Bethany Stark?" Olenna frowned, all traces of anger suddenly vanishing from her attitude.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head, Grandmother. Why are you so cross with Jon being friends with a woman? And why do you seem so pleased to hear I'm close to Beth? Do you wish for a match between us and House Stark?"

"I must say they taught you well in Winterfell. You're quick to catch on things, so you're not a lost cause after all." Olenna said, smirking.

"They won't give you two matches, Grandmother. Lord Benjen won't allow it."

"Just one is enough, Loras. And Benjen Stark will not be able to refuse me anything." The way the Queen of Thorns said it unsettled Meera.

"She knows… She knows and she is going to force Lord Benjen's hand with her knowledge." she figured out with dread.

"Why?" Loras insisted.

"Oh, don't mind me, Loras. Go on with your night, it's still young and so are you."

Meera shivered at the conversation's implications as she returned to her body. It was obvious now that Olenna Tyrell knew about Jon's true identity, and that she felt she had the upper hand regarding matches with the Starks.

Beware the Rose's vines. Meera's father's words rang through her head once more before another nudge sent her into another mouse's body.

"I heard your friend's name, so I called for you as you asked." The mouse said.

"I thank you."

"Margaery has been cold to him since the day they met, so we can't begrudge him caring for another. You've seen all the efforts he made to befriend our daughter, yet none of what he did, nor Loras' pleas had been answered kindly." The Lord lamented.

"Mayhap we should allow her request to go to King's Landing?" The Lord's wife said, looking uncertain. "If we soften her stance on this, she may —"

"We all know why she wishes to go. Our daughter wants us to beg and crawl in front of Robert Baratheon." The Lord sneered.

"Mayhaps it is also time to drop the act, Mace. You have to tell Mother that you know what she's up to. If we work together with her, we may find a solution. We should also speak to Marge and let her know why —"

"Mother will never trust Margaery with Jon Stark's secret. She doesn't even trust any of our family to keep it. She would think Marge may run to Robert and spill everything to him for a chance of a betrothal with Joffrey if push comes to shove and, to be honest, it's a possibility I cannot ignore. No, the dragons forgave us once, they will not do so a second time." Lord Mace scoffed.

"Are you sure it's the best choice, though? That Marge isn't right in this? The Baratheons hold the power, Mace. They are on the Iron Throne."

"And they showed how unforgiving they were time and time again. Stannis had the excuse of his wife being with child not to come to Garlan's wedding, but Robert? He just said he was not coming and left it at that."

"In time, with Joffrey betrothed to Margaery, he will have no choice but to —"

" And who do you think will agree to the match?" Mace retorted. "The Lannisters? The Stag who sits on a throne he has no right to? We are a disgraced family, despised by most Houses even from our own kingdom. Your father doesn't trust us because of what we did for Lynesse. Tarly still holds a grudge because of the Rebellion. They all think me foolish for what I did during the Siege of Storm's End, but I am not."

"I know, you followed Mother's advice. Tywin Lannister tricked her into believing he would reinforce Rhaegar's forces. You would not have been tricked by him, but now is time to forgive yourself and move on." the lady said to Meera's surprise.

"Never. I failed Rhaegar Targaryen once because I trusted the wrong person. I will not fail him twice."

"But your mother —"

"Is a good player of the game, yet she cost us greatly by bidding us wait before we engaged in the fight. Here we need to ally ourselves with the Dragon Queen not because Mother wishes it, but because it's the right thing to do for the Reach. It will further our trades, help us prosper without the help of the Iron Throne, and, when the time is right, we will settle our debt while seeing our daughter raised high. But first, we need Margaery and Jon Stark to get along."

"You're right, as always. I'm sorry for doubting your words." Lady Alerie said before kissing her husband.

Never had Meera seen Mace Tyrell so serious and passionate. His apparent true self was completely different from the oafish side that he showed people.

"Everyone has a Lord face. Even you. You just do not need for it, and I wish you never will." Jon had said to her once, Meera only now seeing the truth of it there.

They knew about Jon being a Targaryen, all of them apart from Margaery. And they all aimed to use that knowledge to further their ambitions. It worried Meera greatly, not only for what it implied for Jon but more so because of his reaction to it.

Yet her biggest concern was not for that, or not just for that. Meera wished more than anything that she wouldn't have to be the one to announce all of it to her friend.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Loras Tyrell.

Ever since he had come back, Loras hadn't felt truly at home in Highgarden. True, he was happy to see his family and to show Garlan how much he had progressed, even basking in the praise his older brother gave him. Loras had missed him as much as he had Willas, who had never traveled to see him because of his bad leg. So he had tried to make up for lost time when he arrived, enjoying his talks with one brother and his spars with the other. Margaery had continually showered him with love and attention, making him put aside his conflicted emotions, for a while at least.

Yet it was only for a while. For as soon as he saw him standing in line to greet his family, Loras' heart ached once more for Domeric Bolton.

Watching Garlan and Leonette say their vows happily to each other and in front of all who'd come to bear witness to it had made him envious. Loras knew he would never have this, he would never be able to show his love to the world as his brother had just done. If the Gods were merciful, he would stay unwed and serve his sister as her sworn sword, hopefully in the North. Whereas if they were not, then he would be forever stuck in a loveless marriage, far away from the North and from the one person he truly loved.

Should his Grandmother have her way, then he would be married to Bethany Stark.

Not that Loras hadn't thought of it, on the contrary. He knew that Beth would not mind, seeing she suggested Dom wed her, but would his family be willing to let him live in the North? Would Domeric agree to put his beloved cousin through an amicable marriage so they could be happy? Loras wouldn't prevent Beth from having a lover of her own if she let him live as he wanted. He would even name any children she would bear as his own.

"We can't be selfish, Loras." Domeric had said in Winterfell. "We can't use Beth, even if she's willing. We can't bring shame to her."

Loras never considered their love as shameful, but rather a natural progression of their friendship. He knew not many would accept it, Domeric being an heir with all that it encompassed would make it difficult to make it so. Loras' father would also be wroth, though he was naught but the spare of a spare and not really politically important, or so he thought.

However, he had always thought that Margaery would be the one tying their house to the Starks. Jon was the most promising prospect for a husband after the Baratheon boys. In some ways above them, Loras thought. The North was expanding their trade, building their roads so they were more practical, and involving more of their Lords in the decisions regarding their realm. Most of all, he had known Jon for years and was certain he was someone who would treat his sister as she deserved to be. Jon was a man who cared deeply about his own family and those he thought of as friends and so Loras was certain that his friend would make sure his promised bride would lack for nothing.

While his suspicions had been confirmed by his Grandmother, it seemed Margaery had plans of her own. Something which he understood not. So far no words of his seemed to be able to get through his sister's unfounded dislike of Jon, and his sister was intent on her plan to make her family grow strong. It looked like Jon had gotten the message Margaery was sending too, for he avoided her like a plague.

Loras walked to the family private hall, to break his fast with his brothers, sister, and cousins. The night before had ended strangely after the incident with Meera, but he hoped there would not be too many comments about it.

"Did you sleep well, dear?" his mother asked as she kissed his cheek.

"Aye, Mother." he lied, not having a truly good night's sleep since Domeric arrived because of his wish to be near him.

"How's your friend this morn?"

"Maester Lomys said she had a sprained ankle and she has to rest. Though knowing her, you would have probably not seen much of her anyway." he chuckled.

"Mira told me she usually was very discreet and not prone to outbursts." his cousin Desmera said.

"Exactly. Lomys said she tried to say it was no use to care for her, but Jon gave her no choice."

"He stayed with her all night?" Desmera asked, and Loras could see others tense at these words.

"No, he left with the Maester and his Uncle."

"That was so chivalrous of him to care for her until the Maester arrived." his cousin sighed dreamily while Margaery rolled her eyes scoffing.

"The only knight I knew from the North was Jorah Mormont. We all saw how that turned out." his sister said dejectedly. Loras found himself annoyed by Margaery's words and so led with that rather than correcting Margaery and bringing up Ser Rodrick and Lord Wyman's sons.

"Aye, I saw him indeed mourn his wife's departure for years, without losing hope of seeing her come back." Loras spat in turn, feeling the need to intervene.

"Who would come back to that dreadful place? Even you couldn't stand staying there in the long run." Margaery retorted.

"Do not mistake me coming back with a wish to leave the North behind." Loras countered harshly.

"Why did you leave then, if you like it so much?" Margaery asked, frowning, making him tense.

"Why, because my sister pestered me for years!" he lied before kissing her cheek, winking and seeing with satisfaction as it seemed to soften her countenance.

He had done his best to spend time with Margery as well, and while he loved his little sister all the same, he couldn't help but compare her with Beth from time to time. Mayhaps it was because his friend always looked out for him, whereas he sometimes felt disappointed by Margaery's reactions.

"Are you looking forward to the melee?" he asked the girls around the table.

"I'm more excited to see you in the jousts," Margaery responded.

"I'm excited to participate too. I hope I'll bring pride to my family."

"You'll always make us proud, Loras." his mother said, smiling. "Just be careful, will you? Do not take unnecessary risks, we only just got you back."

"I promise I won't, Mother. I've been trained most diligently by Ser Symon and I am ready to face whatever comes to me." He assured, knowing she worried because of what happened to his eldest brother.

"I noticed that none of the Lords of the North are listed in the jousts. Why is that?" Willas asked him.

"The Umbers and the Karstarks prefer fighting in the melee. Their strength is in their brute force, though the Starks, Meera, and Domeric are much skilled with a horse, they've been forbidden from taking part in it by their families."

"I remember hearing that Lord Jon was half a horse himself." Desmera sighed dreamily. His cousin's crush on his friend was ever more than apparent with every mention of him.

"Mayhaps their parents know my son is better anyway, so they will not take the risk of getting humiliated!" Loras' father boasted and the young lord shook his head.

"None is better than a knight from Highgarden!" Margaery cheered, as did all their cousins but Desmera.

If only they knew how good both Jon, Domeric and even Meera had become over the years, how each of them had all progressed thanks to their unconventional training. Ser Symon had made sure to prepare every one of them for any eventuality, be it a shredded shield left in the middle of the field, or a heavier lance, he had somehow borrowed a page in Master Syrio's book and forced them to adapt to every situation. Domeric and Loras' skills were polished, but Jon and Meera had something they did not, a sort of instinct that made them aware of all their surroundings. While the Lady of Greywater Watch preferred refining hers through archery, Jon was unstoppable on a horse and at times with a weapon in his hand.

"It's a shame, truly. I would not mind giving my favor to Jon Stark." Desmera sighed as Margaery tensed.

"You don't even know him." The latter countered.

"I have no need to know him personally. He is comely, chivalrous, and he comes from a line of illustrious knights."

"I would refrain from talking of his lineage to him if I were you." Loras grimaced. "At least not in front of his countrymen."

"Why is that? Ser Arthur Dayne was the best knight —"

"He was the man who killed his father, Father. And the North Remembers, as they say." He cut Mace off quickly. "Jon had to send his mother away so she wouldn't endure their constant animosity and he has been deeply affected by that."

"Oh, the poor boy!" 'Loras' mother exclaimed. "It must have been so hard for him!"

"Thankfully he will see her soon. He had planned to travel to Starfall after the tourney."

"His uncle gave him leave to do so?" Olenna spoke for the first time in the conversation, which very much was unlike her.

"I don't think anything or anyone would prevent Jon from seeing his mother after being apart for so long," he admitted, smiling as he noticed a small one on his sister's face.

It was amusing to see the contrast between his cousin and Margaery. He could feel the latter was fighting not to get close to Jon, surely feeling it could derail her plans, while Desmera was already enthralled by Jon's charms and so she spoke of him without any reserve.

Loras felt it would not be a bad thing if his cousin and his friend could get along, though he was not sure their grandmother would ever allow it to happen. Margaery was her pride and joy, even when during the times she brought Olenna neither.

On his way to the stables, he saw Jon, Domeric, and Beth admiring the horses. His heart clenched as he longed to join them, yet he couldn't spend more time with them, not when he was trying his best to distance himself from Domeric.

"There he is!" Beth yelled, halting him in his retreat. "Which one are you mounting for the jousts?"

"This one," he answered, showing them the mare he had chosen while trying not to stare at his former lover.

"Interesting choice." Chills ran through him as Domeric's voice sounded behind him. "You're counting on the element of surprise, right?"

"I've been taught that you don't have to play fair if you want to walk away with your life." Loras retorted, keeping his stare on the mare.

"But you didn't learn how not to be stupid, both of you!" Beth growled and soon Loras felt the back of his head hurt. "I don't care what you have decided or what you think is the right thing to do. Stop acting like fools and being so cold to each other!"

"I would do as she said if you do not want to be schooled in public by a ten-name-day girl," Jon suggested laughing.

"She took me by surprise!" Loras protested before he avoided another slap, the tension soon forgotten and for now, only laughter could be heard in the stables.

Soon enough he had to part from them to get ready, promising he would do his best to make some time from them during or after the melee.

As a representative of House Tyrell, he'd worn his House's colors. His green doublet had been a gift from Domeric and he hoped wearing it would convey a message to his heart's choice.

The stand next to their main one had been allotted to the Lords of the North, and Loras was surprised to see Jon wasn't there. He tried asking Brandon discreetly about Jon's absence, but the latter just shrugged and shook his head.

"Strange isn't it? Lord Jon told me how eager he was to watch his fellow Northmen fight in the melee." Willas pointed out.

"He must have visited Meera first and tried to convince her to come."

"Our Mira?"

"Oh. No. Lady Reed. She was listed to take part in the archery contest but I know not if she will given her injury."

"Look!" Desmera exclaimed. "Here he is!"

Loras frowned as he could feel from afar that all the good humor Jon had previously shown when they saw each other before the tourney's beginning had vanished. He was sporting his most serious face, his Lord Face as Beth named it, and he seemed almost mad at something. Every person in the northern stall looked confused and disturbed by his demeanor. One look at Domeric proved him right, as he signaled him to meet him somewhere.

Loras excused himself, pretexting the need to relieve himself, and quickly ran somewhere they would be able to talk privately.

"Did you do something to him?" Domeric asked.

"I would never —"

"Yet he said to ask you when we wondered why he was so upset." The heir of the Dreadfort frowned. "He was fine this morn. Then he went to meet with Meera and suddenly his whole mood changed. What did you do?"

"I don't… I have no idea…"

"Did you talk about his mother? Did any of your family?"

"We did talk about his family, but not in an offensive way. I warned them not to bring his maternal side up to them, but… That can't be it." Loras answered before paling. "Oh… oh no…"

"What is it?"

"I talked with Grandmother last night, but I don't know how he or Meera would —"

"You know they know everything, about everyone. I don't know how they do it, but this is something we learned to accept. What did you say that would upset him so?"

"I said nothing. Grandmother on the other hand… wants a match between Jon and Marge, and possibly between Beth and myself.

"I see. You know how protective of Beth we all are. Jon will be very cross if he believes you weren't straightforward with what you wanted."

"I never said anything to give the impression I was for it, or that I knew anything about Grandmother's plans. Not that I know of." Loras protested.

"But you are, aren't you?" Domeric sighed. "You would be for the matches. I know you would."

"Would it truly be so awful?"

"For Jon and your sister, I don't know. They seem completely indifferent towards each other, yet there's something…"

"You've seen it too?" Loras asked, surprised.

"Aye, but you and Beth... We talked about it already. We decided —"

"You decided for us all." Loras cut him off, feeling his anger rise. "You didn't listen to what we wanted, and then you had the nerve to get mad at me because I couldn't stand staying much longer. "

"Now is not the time to argue about this."

"Then when? When will be the time? When will you stop treating me like a child and start seeing the man I'm becoming?"

"I've always seen him, Loras. Gods, if I haven't… Your brother is coming." Domeric said and Loras jumped with fright. "Lord Willas."

"Lord Domeric. I'm sorry for interrupting, but Father is getting restless, he says you'll miss all the fights." Willas simply said.

"I'm coming," Loras replied before turning one last time to Domeric. "Tell Jon I'll explain everything and that I am sorry."

Domeric only nodded and walked away, leaving Loras facing his brother.

"A word of advice, Brother. You always wear your emotions on a sleeve. It may not be frowned upon in the North, but it can be very harmful here."

"My apologies, I —"

"Do not apologize for who you are, Loras. But you ought to be careful so people don't use it against you." Willas said, tapping his shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Or our family," Loras added, understanding the hidden warning.

"Come, Brother. Let us not make our father wait too much. You know how he gets when he is irritated."

Defeated, Loras was about to follow his brother when he noticed two familiar birds watching him. He could have sworn he'd seen them more than once, though he wondered if he was simply dreaming of a time when he was happier.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Jon Stark.

If it had not been for what he'd learned, then it would have been the change in Margaery Tyrell's mood that Jon spent most of his time wondering about. The girl seemed to be almost completely different than how she was in the North. At least with others. With him, she was her usual reticent and at times rude self. Whereas with Beth, Bran, and even with Meera, she was all charm and politeness.

Some of it was down to her being in more agreeable surroundings no doubt. Margaery had left them all very clear about her feelings on the North during her visits there. A part of it, Jon would put down to having Loras back home in Highgarden. His friend had told him that Margaery missed him greatly and forgave Jon not for taking him away from her. Even though it had been her grandmother who'd reached out to his uncle and made the request for Loras to foster at Winterfell, Margaery seemed to blame Jon most of all that he'd done so.

Jon at least took some comfort in the fact that she was still no friendlier with him than she had been in Winterfell. Or he did right up until the moment Meera found out what the Tyrells knew and informed him that his truth was no longer hidden. For once he knew of that, it was that and that alone that filled Jon's thoughts both day and night. That and what he was to do with the information. Or more precisely, what the Tyrells may do with the knowledge of who he truly was and what that could gain them.

"You're certain of this, Jon?" Meera asked as they sat in his room.

"No, yet I cannot leave the Reach without knowing, Meera. The risk is too great for those I care about."

"You know what they want, Jon. 'Tis the same thing your grandmother wishes you to do, your mother wishes."

"Aye, I know," he said resignedly.

Asking for a few moments alone, Jon welcomed the soft touch of Meera's hand on his shoulder. His truest friend was a great comfort at this moment and yet it was an altogether different comfort that he knew he needed. Moving to the chest, Jon reached inside and took Egg out. Carrying it carefully in his hands as he moved to the bed, he lay down and closed his eyes.

Though it was no longer a nightly thing that he slept with the egg, it was something he still did regularly. The comfort it would bring him to hold it close and how it seemed to allow him to think calmly and rationally about most things, was something he much needed now. It had been Egg that he'd spoken to about his true feelings towards his grandmother. Egg that he'd confided his worries about Viserys to. Now, it was Egg that he sought advice from and as always, the advice was most readily available to him. Even if at times, it was advice he ignored. Such as he had with his grandmother and the reading of her letters.

Knowing what Olenna more than likely wished for, left him in a quandary. For it was not just a wedding match that House Tyrell longed for, but a queen too. While over the past few years, Jon had come around a little to the fact that it fell to him to be king, it was not something he was truly on board with as of yet. To meet with Olenna, and agree with her price, he would need to resolve himself to do so most quickly. Yet, as he lay in the bed, his arms wrapped around Egg, Jon looked for another path. Eyes closed, he sought any other option and to his dismay, he found none.

"Then it seems I'm to be king." he sighed, rising to his feet and placing Egg back in the chest he'd had made for it.

A small voice in his head told him that he needed to go and speak to his uncle. Jon knew full well that Benjen would not be best pleased if he should meet with Olenna Tyrell without his leave. However, he and his uncle had not been on the best of terms lately. The older Jon got the less it seemed that was so. Be it, that he wished to make more and more of his own decisions or that so many of those decisions seemed to be at odds with the ones Benjen wished him to make.

Calling for Ghost, Jon, moved to the window and looked down at the vista beneath it. There was much beauty surrounding the keep and he wished he could enjoy it just for that. That he could simply look and appreciate Highgarden for what it was. Instead, he found himself contemplating the fact that the rose bushes that grew some distance below him were full of thorns. Just like the family that named this keep as their home, he thought somewhat bitterly.

"It'll not do itself, Aemon," he said softly. Using the name of his birth and not the one that he'd come to think of himself more and more over the years.

Once again, he rose to his feet and moved to the door. Jon nodded to Ser Symon who stood guard even though he'd been given the day off to practice for the joust. Syrio had at least done as Jon had bid him and his fencing master was no doubt preparing for that day's melee. Jon had wagered much coin on the former first sword to prove the Westerosi way of fighting was not superior to their own. It had been something he'd seen first hand on many occasions and he was even somewhat proof of it. As Jon wagered there was not a match for him with a sword in hand amongst his age group in Westeros or mayhap even Essos.

"I need to speak to Lady Olenna," Jon said to Ser Symon who looked at him curiously.

"Jon you…"

"I must." Jon interrupted and the knight said no more.

It took them some time to find a servant who would take them to the lady's private quarters. Jon forgoing his wishes to simply make his way to the Great Hall and break his fast with his family and friends. As they walked, he almost cursed loudly at the sight of a group of ladies walking their way. Breathing out relieved when he spotted that Margaery was not among them and instead it was her cousin, Lady Desmera, that the ladies were following.

"Lord Jon." Lady Desmera said with a picture-perfect curtsy. Jon offered her a polite bow of his head and took her hand in his so he could place a kiss upon it.

Meera had told him that there was some interest in him from the youngest of Lady Olenna's granddaughters. Jon now wondering if that would bode better for him than a match with the oldest of them. Margaery at best was apathetic to him, which was not something that would be welcome in a marriage. With this in mind, he was more charming than he intended with Lady Desmera, and through Ghost's eyes, he saw how she looked back at him when they bid each other their goodbyes.

Looking at Ser Symon, Jon could see how the knight's mind was turning and though they spoke of it not, he knew that Ser Symon was considering the same thing that Jon himself was. Soon enough, however, this and other considerations were put aside as they reached Lady Olenna's rooms. The woman's two giant guards were both standing to attention outside the door and Jon introduced himself to them before asking for an audience with their lady.

"You wish me inside with you, Jon?" Ser Symon asked as one of the two giant guards entered the room. Jon shook his head as he answered.

"No, this I had better do alone."

The giant guard gave Jon a simple nod of his head and held the door open for him to enter. Closing it behind him once he did so. Though he'd wished to bring Ghost inside with him, he knew he could not and so the white wolf now stood outside with his Leal and true guard. Jon was alone now in the Queen of Thorns domain and he took a moment to look around at the room and the lady herself.

For such a slight and small woman, Olenna Tyrell had a presence about her that made her far more imposing than she should be. Her rooms, though well furnished, were far less ostentatious than the more public areas of Highgarden's keep. She sat behind a medium-sized desk and in her hand she held a bell which she rang as Jon moved toward her. The sounds of servants hurrying behind him then could be heard as within moments, refreshments were brought and laid out on the desk.

"I've decided we shall have tea, Lord Stark." Lady Olenna said, leaving him in no room for doubt that it was basically an order she was giving him.

It was one that was he feeling even a little bit petty, he'd have refused. Yet, he was already coming here at a disadvantage and so he'd not give her the upper hand by arguing over something so minor. Not when he believed they'd soon be arguing over things that were very much not. So, with a nod of his head, Jon took his seat and poured tea for both of them. Olenna offered him a toothless smile as she took a cup in her hand and brought it slowly to her mouth. Her other hand then picked up what seemed to be a piece of soft cheese which she ate hungrily.

"You know why I'm here?" Jon began.

"I have not the merest inclination, Lord Stark," Olenna replied.

"I have no time for games, my lady. No time to bandy words about when my life and the life of my family is on the line."

"Whatever could you mean, Lord Stark, how would that be the case?"

Frustrated, annoyed, and even angered a little, Jon took a moment to calm himself down before he spoke his next words. These at least were given some recognition from the woman opposite him.

"You know a truth about me, Lady Olenna, a truth that should it out would lead to war."

"I am aware of such a truth, Lord Jon. Or is there another name you truly go by?" Olenna asked curiously.

"Aemon, my mother named me Aemon," Jon said almost in a whisper.

"After the Dragonknight no doubt, a good and true name." Olenna smiled.

Jon almost wished to correct her. To tell her that he believed it was his grand uncle that he'd been named for. However, a much larger part of him refused to let her know anything at all about Aemon and where he was. His own life and the life of his family in the North was in danger enough, as too was his family in the East, he'd take comfort from at least one member of his family remaining unknown to any but those who were not a threat.

"I've come to hear your price, my lady, for your silence and your fealty."

"My fealty was yours from the day you were born, your grace," Olenna said, her words not as comforting as she wished them to be. Instead, they simply reinforced that he was to be something he still wasn't sure he was ready to be.

"And your silence?"

For a few moments, Olenna spoke not. Instead, she sipped her tea and ate another piece of the soft cheese. Time seemed to stretch on and on and Jon began to feel uncomfortable both in the way she looked at him and how measured she seemed to be in doing so. Eventually, just as he was on the verge of saying something, Olenna spoke the words and they were just as Jon had expected. A betrothal that had been agreed by his mother and his grandmother, and would now need to be ratified by both Jon and Lady Olenna herself.

"Lady Ashara visited me some years ago, your grace. Bearing an offer from your grandmother and though she spoke not of your truth, it was one that intrigued me greatly as you may expect. Over time, it's one I've given much thought to and so I would ask for us to agree to a match between yourself and my granddaughter." Olenna said almost eagerly.

Knowing it was the price and hearing it spoken so clearly were two different things. Jon found that he needed to take a moment before he could answer. The silence or his lack of reply seemed to concern Lady Olenna some and though he wished to take comfort in that, he could not. Instead, it was knowing that when he left this room, he'd be betrothed and all that came with that, which Jon found his focus on.

"Your granddaughter likes me not, my lady. Margaery has made it most clear that I am not her favorite person in the world and I fear that any betrothal between us is one doomed to failure. While I may understand the need for a marriage of politics, it's not something I had ever sought for myself and so I wonder if there is another more suitable match. Mayhap one with your other granddaughter." Jon said, far more direct than he'd wished to be, and yet he at least felt with Lady Desmera that there could be some affection found between them.

"My granddaughter's wishes are well known to me, your grace. Yet, I believe in this you have the wrong of it. There is an affection there, though it's one that for her own reasons, Margaery has kept well hidden."

Jon looked at Olenna incredulously. Ready to argue with her that she was wrong in what she said and yet he remembered too looking at Margaery through the sparrow's eyes. Seeing her smile at times when she looked at the flower he'd gifted her all those years earlier. He'd not lie and say that when they danced he'd believed she'd welcomed his attentions either. Yet, at other times he was certain she'd prefer those of any other man in the seven kingdoms other than him.

"Yet mayhap it would be for the better if Lady Desmera…."

"Would that such a match was possible, your grace. Were it just that it was my granddaughter I sought matched to you, then mayhap it would be. However, Margaery is the daughter of the Warden of the South. Her grandfather is the Lord of Oldtown. Desmera brings many things to an alliance, what she doesn't bring is either of those advantages. No, I'm afraid I must insist that it is to be Margaery that you accept the betrothal with, her and no other."

"And if I refuse?" Jon asked, curiously. He had no intention to do so and had come here already decided on his course of action.

Once again there was a long period of silence. Olenna seemed to allow the weight of his words to hang in the air. To his surprise, he received no answer even after some time and though it annoyed him, it mattered not, not truly.

"I accept the offer, my lady. As for the announcement of such…."

"I wish it during the tourney, your grace. At the end feast most preferably."

"As you wish, my lady," Jon said, rising to his feet.

He turned to walk to the door, his footsteps heavy and his shoulders slumped. An agreement to marry a girl he wasn't sure he even liked, let alone would be someone he could ever love. A marriage based purely on politics and to protect his family and those he cared about. Never had he felt such a weight upon him as the one he now bore and yet he bore it willingly.

Forced into the agreement he may feel he'd been, it was still an agreement that he'd mayhap always have been inclined to make. The cost of a throne was one that every king needed to pay at some point and Jon had now paid his version of that cost. A heavy price indeed and yet, knowing that his secret and therefore his family's safety was somewhat guaranteed for a little longer, it was something he tried to take comfort from. Little knowing that Olenna would speak some words that added to that comfort.

"You're wrong about my granddaughter, your grace. I believe so wholeheartedly and had I not, then I'd have truly considered your offer regarding Desmera. You and Margaery will find joy together, of that I have no doubt."

"I hope you're right my lady, for both our sakes," Jon said simply.

Later that day he sat watching the melee as Olenna spent most of her time watching him. Beside him, Meera offered him little looks and touches and yet it was the small glances that Margaery sent his way that Jon tried to focus on.

Could he be wrong?

Was there some attraction there that he had dismissed?

Did love have to be found at the beginning or could it grow in time to be just as strong?

Whatever the answers to those questions, he'd made his bed and it was time for him now to lay in it. The future he'd fought against for so very long was now one he was hurtling towards. A crown he'd not wanted was one he was destined to wear and a war he'd have done all he could to have seen not fought, was now inevitable. Jon Stark was dead and Aemon Targaryen had no choice but to play the Game of Thrones. It was a game he'd do everything in his power to ensure he won.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Olenna Tyrell.

Before the meeting with Jon Stark.

Everything was going as well as it could, other than the one thing she wished for that was. Of her two granddaughters, it was the wrong one who was paying attention to Jon Stark. Desmera seemed to be entranced somewhat by the young man and Olenna liked it not. Not even seeing the small glimmers of jealousy in Margaery's eyes allowed her to welcome her second granddaughter's attention on the young man. For while it may have once been a match that she'd considered, it was no longer such.

Ashara Dayne had already made it clear that Rhaella sought Margaery as her grandson's future bride. Olenna knew too that Mace would never accept it to be anyone but his daughter who wed Rhaegar Targaryen's son. Her son may not even accept it being Desmera if Jon Stark was who he truly believed him to be, or so Olenna would wager. The young man had made a positive impression on her oaf of a son and it was one that Olenna sought to take advantage of. As she knew full well she couldn't let Mace know the truth of things as of yet. Not if she wished the secret to be kept that was.

Her little hints to Margaery bore no fruit either and it frustrated Olenna greatly. Especially considering that she could see there was a genuine attraction there on her granddaughter's part. The little smiles, furtive looks, shy glances, and how she smiled when they danced together were all clear enough proof of that. Yet, at times Margaery couldn't even be civil to the young man in question. While she'd at least been much better with his family and those of the North since their arrival.

"I may need to intervene more truly," Olenna whispered under her breath.

With everyone now having arrived, the tourney could begin in earnest and though the archery was as dull as ever, Olenna looked forward to the other two events with glee. The Melee was up on the morrow and the Joust to follow the day after. Loras was certain to earn his spurs there if his brothers were to be believed. Another thing that had frustrated her greatly as he was not supposed to stop his fostering until he'd done so.

Ringing the bell she kept on her desk, Olenna sent a servant to first fetch Ser Symon Lake and then to bring her oldest grandson to her chambers. There was much on her mind and she wished for Willas' counsel, but first, she needed to know that her agreement in regards to Loras held still. While she could of course get another knight to name Loras as such, she wished it to be the man he'd squired for. Not only because for it not to be would send a message she liked not, but because of who Ser Symon truly was. A small smirk now appeared on Olenna's face as she thought about what people would think when they found out it was Rhaegar's squire who had given Loras his spurs.

"Ser Symon Lake, my lady." Left said as he walked the knight into the room. Olenna dismissed her guard despite the concerned look he gave her. Though if she was in any danger from the man who now took his seat, then she was truly fucked, she thought wryly.

"Lady Olenna."

"Ser Symon," she replied, there was no need for subterfuge and yet she liked the game too much not to play just a little.

"Now that the pleasantries are over with." Ser Symon chuckled.

"Indeed. My Grandson, Ser Symon, he was to earn his spurs at your side."

"He was and yet he wished to return to his home and I thought not to stop him from doing so."

"And was he to do some deed of note?"

"Our agreement stands, Lady Olenna. It'll be by mine own hands that your son is named a Knight of the Realm, he's more than deserved it."

"He has?"

"Just in length of service alone, yet he has done more than that. Loras epitomizes what a Knight should aspire to be, my lady. Should he go as far in the tourney as I believe he will, then you have my oath I'll knight him on the spot."

"That's good to know, for I'd much prefer it to be you who did so rather than my oaf of a son getting some other to name him in your stead."

"Then you can have no such worries, my lady."

Olenna sat quietly and contentedly for but a moment. Her next words were ones she hadn't planned or hadn't in the way they were spoken. Still, she needed to know and so she asked the question.

"Your charge and the young girl from the Crannogs…they seem rather close."

Ser Symon laughed, annoying her a little in the process. Then he schooled his features and cleared his throat.

"Meera and Jon are true friends, my lady. They are as close as a brother to a sister and while there may seem to be more going on, I assure you there is not."

"Good to know."

"Besides, it's not Jon's relationships that should give you pause."

"And what should?" she asked snippily.

"Your granddaughter's lack of interest, my lady."

Bidding Ser Symon to leave, Olenna sat and contemplated what he'd said. She was still doing so when Willas arrived a few moments later. Her grandson took his seat and waited for her to clear her thoughts and speak.

"I spoke to Ser Symon, he still plans to name Loras a knight." Olenna began and Willas nodded. "He did speak on your sister, however, her lack of interest in Jon Stark to be precise."

"There is no lack of interest, grandmother."

"No, and yet she shows one regardless. It vexes me greatly."

"As does my cousin's interest in our future king," Willas said to an annoyed growl from her. One that at least chided her grandson somewhat and led to him making a suggestion "Mayhap she needs to be let in on the secret, Grandmother. If she but knew…"

"No, now is not the time," Olenna stated firmly and Willas knew enough about her mood and tone to suggest nothing further.

That night at the feast, Olenna looked on somewhat worriedly when Jon Stark helped carry Meera Reed from the Great Hall. Her eyes split between the scene and her granddaughters. One of whom was almost swooning as she watched it. While the other bore a look of jealousy on her face which would prove Olenna and Willas' words from earlier that day most true.

Taking to her bed that night, Olenna fought with herself over whether or not it was indeed time to take Margaery into her confidence. Had there been no interest whatsoever on her granddaughter's part, she may have simply done so. Yet, it was clear to her and to any with eyes to see that there was an attraction there on Margaery's part and so instead Olenna resolved to feed that attraction as much as she could.

After the meeting with Jon Stark

She almost rejoiced. Olenna were she a different woman would have stood up and done a jig such was her happiness. Though she liked it not that the young man felt somewhat pressured into making the betrothal, that he'd made it at all was far more important to her. A good and honorable man to wed her granddaughter, first and foremost would have been her wish if their position allowed it. True, she wished Margaery to be queen and felt that none deserved it more or were more suited to the role. Still, she'd not lie and say that knowing her granddaughter was to wed a man she held respect for, was not something she much welcomed.

Though she wished it not, Olenna soon found herself looking over numbers and figures. Men who could be called upon and those who would oppose them. The Reach and the North alone wouldn't be enough against the West, Stormlands, and the Vale and so it would fall to other regions to make out the numbers. Soon enough, she was annoyed with herself as no matter what, she couldn't get the numbers to work.

Calling for both her grandsons, only one of them who was in the know, Olenna readied to tell Garlan a truth that she knew he'd keep secret. Sitting at her table, a list in front of her that made little or no sense to her, Olenna began to picture a wedding and only wished it could be held in the Great Sept rather than in Highgarden's own. She wished that others who she knew would not be able to attend, could be there. Both for the boy who was to marry her granddaughter and for the message it would send to the realm at large.

"Grandmother, you sent for us," Willas said, taking her from her thoughts, Olenna bid both him and his brother to take their seats.

"I did, Garlan, it's time you were told a hidden truth. One which I do not doubt that you'll keep even from your wife."

The telling of said truth took far less time than Olenna had expected. Garlan sat quietly and allowed her to speak the words, and only once she'd done so did he speak. That he spoke firstly on the betrothal that Olenna and Aemon Targaryen had agreed to, was surprising and yet not. A brother's concern for his sister was a true and noble thing and all her grandsons felt that way when it came to Margaery's future happiness.

"Can they win, Garlan, that's what I must know."

"Against the realm as it is, no, not even with our men. Yet, will that be how things play out, I think not." Garlan said and Olenna bid him continue.

She and Willas listened as he spoke of the men that Rhaella had brought to her side in Essos. The fleet that Lucerys Velaryon had built up and the army that Ser Bonifer Hasty had working for Rhaella as Sellswords. Olenna listened keenly as Garlan then spoke of Loyalist Houses in the Vale, Riverlands, and elsewhere. When her grandson spoke of how the North was much better prepared and outfitted than it had been during the Rebellion, Olenna smiled broadly.

By the time Garlan was done, Olenna felt far more confident that she was indeed making the right moves. Given that there were few other moves open to her that allowed them to gain anything at all, she was even more certain about that. As for the betrothal itself, Olenna surprised both her grandsons when she said that it would be announced after the Joust. Neither Willas nor Garlan understood why there was a need to hurry and both her grandsons again spoke on telling Margaery the truth.

"Now is not the time," Olenna stated firmly, leaving no room for argument or second-guessing.

"Father, mother."

"I'll speak to your mother when I inform her of the betrothal, as for your father, for now, let him believe it's a match between the Lord of Winterfell and his daughter, nothing else.

"Are you sure of this, Grandmother?" Willas asked and Olenna nodded.

Taking her seat at the melee later that day, Olenna split her attention between Jon Stark and Margaery. They'd make a picture-perfect couple. The children alone would bear the beauty of two Houses and Olenna wondered if they'd share the coloring of either of their parents or if they would exhibit more of Old Valyria in their looks. An image of silver hair and violet eyes soon came to mind and brought a smile to her face.

Looking at where Desmera sat, Olenna could see how often and how eagerly she looked at Jon Stark. A soft sigh came from her lips at it being the wrong granddaughter who did so. Turning to glance at Margaery again, Olenna noticed how her granddaughter's lips pursed and she frowned when Jon Stark made the girl beside him laugh at someone he said. Meera Reed was given all of the young man's attention other than that he paid to his cousin.

As the herald named the competitors of the melee, Olenna began to look forward to this tourney's end. To the announcement of a betrothal that she knew those in King's Landing and even more so, those in Casterly Rock would not be best pleased by. She wondered when news would hit Starfall and by default, Braavos. Would that news be as welcomed by the woman who considered herself Jon Stark's mother as much as it would by the woman who was his true grandmother. Olenna believed it would and that their joy and happiness over the match would be akin to her own.

'The Golden Rose of Highgarden and The Northern Dragon.' it had a nice ring to it she felt.

A promise of a future that would see her granddaughter get all that had been denied to Olenna herself. All that Margaery deserved and more. For she'd not only be gaining a king for a husband but a husband that Olenna had no doubt she'd grow to love truly.

Highgarden 295 AC.

The Melee.

Syrio Forel.

If it was not for his charge, then Syrio wouldn't compete in this game of swords. Jon wished to see him put the Westerosi Knights in their place and Syrio was never one to shirk from a challenge. However, he did at first look confused when Jon brought the horse to him and he was told that the Melee started with men on horseback. He was similarly confused with the weapon that he was handed by his most diligent student. The thin shaft tapered off into a blunted and spiked end that was both reminiscent of a Mace or Morningstar and yet not at the same time.

"I prefer my blade." Syrio had japed, earning himself a laugh in the process.

"Aye, and you'll have much use of it, but this is for fighting atop a horse and is far better suited for such."

Armored though lightly as he was, Syrio looked around at the men he'd be competing against and found them to be dressed exactly how he'd expected them to be. Steel dresses were the order of the day and as the horses lined up, he marked out where the knights were most vulnerable to his thin Bravosi sword. The neck, visor, and beneath the arms all offered opportunities that would lead to death if he wasn't using a blunted blade. They were opportunities he'd take still however as pressing hard enough against the soft spot would lead to a yield as much as it would lead to blood being shed was this a real fight.

Syrio listened not to the names being spoken by the herald or the cheers of the crowd when some of those names were heard. He cared not for an opponent's name or reputation as in the end it mattered not who the man you beat was, only that you beat them. As for the prize on offer, Syrio had no real use for coin and yet he'd welcome collecting it nonetheless. The truth of things was he now wished to win because of the message it would send. A message that would only be emphasized with his collecting of the winnings.

Horns rang out and horses began to move, Syrio looking not to his opponents but to where Jon Stark stood looking on. His student for once was not sitting in the crowd with the others as he instead watched from the sidelines. An eager look on his face as he did so. It was a look that Syrio knew all too well and had been most happy to see on Jon Stark's face through all their many lessons together. His words that he'd spoken all those years earlier had been proved true when it came to the young man he'd taught almost all he'd known. Jon was now able to beat him if he truly wished to and Syrio wagered that there were few if any who could match what his student could do with a sword in hand.

"Lost in your head," he whispered to himself. Chiding himself for almost falling into one of the many distractions that could cause you to lose a fight. Syrio shook the thoughts of anything but the fight to come from his mind and after offering a small nod of his head in Jon's direction, it was that fight he now fought.

Around him, men wielded weapons of different sizes and few wielded them as well as they should. The chaos caused by having so many men battle at once not truly allowing them to do so. His first opponent found that out to his cost when he tried to attack Syrio with the large blunted ax only to miss his strike. Something that Syrio did not do when he aimed his own and caught the man flush across the head, knocking him from his horse in the process.

He saw sigils he knew not and men whose names he'd not bother to learn. One and then another falling to a strike from the weapon that Jon had seen fashioned for him and Syrio wore a true smirk under his half helm as he took man after man from their horses. More and more, he found time to look around and take the measure of those he was competing against. Seeing one or two begin to show some skill as they dealt with their own opponents. The field began to be whittled down and allowed for those with true skill to shine somewhat. None more so than Syrio who was able to maneuver his horse around the outskirts of the battle and take down his opponents at will.

Eventually, the field was down to no more than twenty men, and to his delight, men began to dismount from their horses and to battle on foot. Syrio quickly joined them and immediately felt the comfort of doing so. On a horse there may very well have been a match for him amongst the Knights of Westeros, on foot, he doubted there was any who could even offer him true competition. Something he began to prove as after he threw down the weapon he'd been using, he now began to use the one he'd been born to wield.

"Time to dance." he chuckled as he stuck his thin sword in the gap of the armor of a knight bearing a sigil of a burning tree, striking him hard in his underarm. The knight fell to the ground and quickly yielded when Syrio bid him to. The dance soon turned into an art form as he took down more and more of those who were beneath him in skill and soon enough his feet as well.

Lord Yohn Royce.

Mace in hand, Yohn reveled in the carnage of the melee. Using all his experience, he maneuvered his stallion in and out of danger. Trying his best not to laugh at those who had not managed to do so. As always the melee brought the savage out in most men and never was this truer than with the Northman who were competing. All but one of them at least. The former First Sword of Braavos relied on skill more than the brute strength that the Umbers or the Flint of the Mountains favored.

There were others too who used skill more than savagery to earn their victories. Ser Addam Marbrand proved that he was as adept in the melee as he was in the joust. While Ser Vortimer Crane showed why he'd served so long as Master of Arms at Highgarden. To Yohn's surprise, the second oldest of the Tyrells competed not. Ser Garlan was a man who he'd heard much talk of regarding his skills with a blade yet he'd not witnessed them as of yet. Though given it was he whose wedding they'd come to celebrate, maybe it was that protocol decided he'd not compete.

He was soon facing off against a man from the Riverlands, a Bracken or so he believed as he couldn't quite make out the sigil. As he fought, he looked around to see who was left atop their horses. A small smirk turned into a truer chuckle when he saw Ser Symond Templeton prove that he was just as fierce as he ever was. The poor knight from House Banefort had bitten off far more than he could chew in that particular encounter.

Swinging his Mace, Yohn soon earned his third victory of the day. The Bracken then had to be helped to his feet by one of the Silent Sisters. Yohn was relieved that it would be just a sore head and nothing worse that the man would be taking from his failed attempt to earn some renown. As around him more and more men fell, Yohn readied himself for the truer fights that would soon begin. Only one more man fell to him while he rode his horse and that was almost an accident and ill fortune rather than anything that Yohn had done.

"Another day, Ser Patrek," he said to the Mallister heir who nodded and wished him good fortune. Yohn then dismounted from his horse when he saw other men do so.

Of the hundred or so who'd started the fight, only twenty or so remained. Four almost giants from the North. The Great and Smalljon's, Torghen Flint and Harrion Karstark. Along with Syrio Forel who though from Braavos fought in the colors of Winterfell. From the West, Ser Addam Marbrand was joined by Ser Daven Lannister, both men skilled and worthy opponents in Yohn's eyes. Though it would be Lord Roland Crakehall that he'd be most wary of fighting. Representing the Reach, Ser Vortimer had made it to the final grouping as had Ser Jon Fossoway, Lord Randyll Tarly, and Ser Garth Hightower. The latter man's brother Ser Baelor was more a jouster than a melee fighter to Yohn's mind.

There was Ser Patrek's father, Lord Jason Mallister along with Lord Tytos Blackwood and Ser Desmond Grell representing the Riverlands. Ser Desmond had done better than the heir of the House that he served as its Master of Arms. From the Crownlands, Ser Triston of Tally Hill, Ser Justin Massey, and Lord Renfred Rykker, none of whom Yohn would worry about facing. While the Stormlords had been lax in their attendance at this tourney with only some of the Marcher Lords having shown up. Ser Donnel Swann and Ser Rolland Storm were the only two who still stood. The Bastard of Nightsong was one of the few men on the field who could stand toe to toe with the giants of the North.

It left those from the Vale, with Yohn, Ser Lyn Corbray, and Ser Symond the three who'd made it thus far. Yohn began to wonder if it would fall to him to take the prize here today. A most worthy and welcome one it was too and while he cared not for coin, he'd enjoy spending some of the Tyrells' gold nonetheless.

"The Bronze Lord."

"Greysteel."

"Shall we do this then?"

"We may as well, otherwise we both got dressed up for nothing." Yohn laughed before nodding his head to Ser Garth Hightower. "Good fortune to you."

"And you too, Lord Yohn."

They named the young Hightower knight Greysteel because of the color of his armor and because he was as unyielding as the steel itself. Yohn now found that out firsthand as he struck the younger man again and again with his Mace. Blows that would have taken down many another man, seemed to have no effect whatsoever and in the end, it was only when he crashed the Mace against Greysteel's helm that he earned the victory. Though Ser Garth was knocked unconscious and in no condition to yield, Yohn worried somewhat about the knight as he was helped from the field.

He had little time to truly do so, however, as he now found himself face to face with one of the giants from the North. This one proved himself to be just as fierce as Yohn had expected and by the time he'd earned his victory, he felt fatigued and worried he'd not have the energy for another true fight. Looking around the field and happy for the respite that he was given while doing so, Yohn found there were only ten men still standing.

The Greatjon, Randyll Tarly, Ser Lyn Corbray, Ser Daven Lannister, and Ser Rolland Storm all stood on one side of the field. Each man looked first to the man next to them and then to the ones in front of them, of whom Yohn himself was one. On his side, he stood close to but not next to, Ser Vortimer who moved to face off against Randyll Tarly. Lord Jason Mallister who was now speaking words to Ser Daven Lannister and Lord Roland Crakehall who had decided to go face a giant in The Greatjon. It left Yohn and Syrio Forel and he was much relieved when the latter moved to face off against Ser Lyn. Yohn had no wish to fight a fellow Knight of the Vale just yet. That it left him with Ser Rolland Storm did give him pause, and yet he looked forward to the fight regardless.

The final 10, even were he to lose, it was a decent enough showing and yet Yohn had no intention of losing here today.

The Greatjon.

Jon had thought he was the last remaining Northman in the fight and in a way, he was right. Syrio may represent House Stark and fight while wearing the sigil of Winterfell, but he was from Essos, not the North. Still, Jon welcomed seeing the man teach first Ser Addam Marbrand and then Ser Lyn Corbray a lesson in swordsmanship. Both of them thought that just because they came from the West and Vale it made them better than those who named the North their home.

It was not something they'd think now, Jon thought happily.

As for his own day, he'd welcomed seeing his son prove himself good and true. The Smalljon had lost to the man that he now faced and Jon, while not seeking revenge or payback, wouldn't lie and say he'd not enjoy delivering both. It had been no shame for his son and heir to lose how he did. Lord Roland was a fierce man who bellowed out his House's words loudly as he moved to face him. Jon laughed loudly once more as he bellowed out that he was from the North and the North gave no ground ever.

"None So Fierce! Roland shouted.

"My wife has been telling tales about me again, eh." he laughed. A smirk appeared on Roland's face that could be seen even under his helm.

Greatsword faced off against Morningstar. The sound of the two blunted steel weapons crashing together rang out loudly. To one side, Yohn Royce had just beaten The Bastard of Nightsong and was now facing off against Syrio Forel. A fight that Jon would have loved to be in the stands watching with an ale in his hand. Though for him to be in the stand would have meant he'd been beaten and he'd not intention of that today.

Sidestepping out of the way of a fierce downward blow, Jon swung his Greatsword, and only by the grace of the gods, did Roland manage to avoid the blow. He heard Ser Vortimer Crane yield to Randyll Tarly. Caught sight of the blow which ended the fight between Lord Jason Mallister and Ser Daven Lannister, the younger man taking the day and now facing off against the Lord of Horn Hill.

Three fights now all that remained and it made Jon even more eager to win his own. Though to do so he would have to match blow for blow with a man whose strength almost matched his own. The two of them caught each other more and more with their strikes and were they lesser men, the fight would be over by now. Instead, they fought on and on. Jon did not hear it when first Yohn Royce yielded to Syrio and then Ser Daven was knocked to the ground by Randyll Tarly and did likewise.

The blow that won him the fight was a thing of beauty, however. Struck so perfectly that it took the Morningstar from Roland's hand and caught the arm that had been holding it too. A pained cry followed by a yield, something that Jon felt was well earned and which Roland offered respectfully. Or he did the latter of those two things, the pained cry would he wager be something he'd rather not have been heard by one and all.

"Well fought, Lord Umber."

"You too, Lord Crakehall. You'll join me for an ale later?"

"I'd be honored, my lord. Now go and win this fucking thing, so at least I can say I was beaten by the victor." Roland laughed as he walked away, picking up his Morningstar with his other hand as he did so.

Taking the time to get his breath back, Jon watched as Syrio put on an exhibition of swordsmanship that he'd only ever seen one other exhibit. That the other just happened to be his future liege lord, only proved that Benjen Stark had been right all along. There was none better than the former First Sword of Braavos to train their future liege. Jon was more than happy to have accepted that as early as he did and happier still to watch as Syrio made Randyll Tarly reluctantly yield.

Looking around the field, at the crowd, and even back to where Randyll Tarly now walked off, Jon reveled that it was two men of the North who'd made it this far. Syrio, he could see, was being cheered on by his student as Lord Jon Stark stood and watched eagerly from the sidelines. Jon almost wished he was the type of man to throw the fight so that he could let them both have their moments. It was not who he was, however, and he'd not lie and say he'd not welcome the coin on offer. Nor the adulation of the crowd when he took the day. So moving to where Syrio stood, Jon raised his Greatsword and nodded that he was ready to begin. It was to be as close to victory that he'd come as he was soundly beaten and even as they walked back together, he knew not how he'd lost.

So quick had Syrio's thin sword been that Jon had no time to counter or even block the strikes. His underarm, his neck, and finally his eye all took knocks that cost him the match and would have cost him much more had the blade not been blunted. Seeing the smiling face of his liege lord, Jon patted Syrio hard on the back and then laughed loudly at what the man said to him before they reached where Jon Stark awaited.

"Only another Water Dancer could have beaten me today, my friend. And only one is my equal." Syrio smiled proudly as he moved to be congratulated on his victory by the one man he claimed to be his match.

Later as Jon drank his ale with Roland Crakehall, he promised himself that he'd spar with Jon Stark upon their return North. A true and proper spar and one fought far from prying eyes. It wasn't that he believed Syrio not, but still it was something he'd like to see proven true. Knowing that the North had two such swordsmen in their midst was something he would be truly proud of.

A/N: Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. A Mystery Knight gains much attention, Benjen seeks out his missing charges while the Lord of Highgarden reflects on past mistakes and firms up his intent to right those wrongs. Loras makes a name for himself and a Queen of Love and Beauty is crowned. Days long passed are never far from people's thoughts as an announcement is made to the shock and surprise of most who hear it.

For those following my other fics, Dark Prince, Revenge is a Dish and the next chapter of this are all due in the next couple of weeks, not sure what order as of yet.

Missed Reviews.

Chapter 5: Batmanwolf: Benjen is worried about his family, about losing more of them in war, he's more concerned with that than anything else and when you add in that if Jon doesn't become king, here he'll be Lord of Winterfell/Warden of the North, as consolation prizes it's far better than being allowed to go to the Wall and join the Night's Watch, so he feels even more justified in feeling that way than ever.

If he believed Jon could be king without a war, then Benjen would be 100 percent behind him, the risk of one, is what stays his hand and gives him pause, only.

Chapter 15 reviews.

Rhatch: Rhaella has been so focused on what she thinks must happen that she's lost what her children/grandson feel because of it, but we'll see her reexamine thing in a bit. As for the war, Robert may very well be around when it comes to happen, we'll see.

Celexys: Jon is angry with his grandmother, but he cares about his family and Viserys wants nothing more than to serve and protect his nephew, so they've got an interesting dynamic and all without meeting, when they do, it should be fun.

Irish hermit: I do think that's part of Robert's nature. Had Ned not named a son after him., or had Jon Arryn named his son after Ned, I think he'd have felt put out. Here, he just can't understand nor accept that Benjen didn't name a son after Ned and yes it's petty, but just another small rift.

That's exactly it with Lynesse and I think the books give a false impression. Yes, Jorah sold slaves to buy things for his wife, but it's not clear if she wished him to or if he simply felt he was losing her and thought this was the only way to hold onto her. Even her abandoning him in the books can be looked at through that lens, although given who she abandoned him for, maybe not. Here, we wanted her to be a little more sympathetic and more than that, for it to play into Margaery's feelings on the North. Roose is a little more pro-Domeric here, as his is the path that leads perhaps to the Starks, as for Ramsay, we'll see him in a while. So glad you feel that about Cassana, it would be so easy to simply write her as a Sansa clone, but Stannis despite being just as hands-off as Ned was, wouldn't allow his daughter to be as head in the clouds as young Sansa was, so we wanted to have a bit of a mix.

Dunk: I think we see that a lot in GRRM's source material, mature in thought and deed but not so much emotionally seems to be the way of a lot of the characters, most of whom are young to begin with. Jon feels pressured by both sides of his family and so at times gives into that pressure, and he's growing up too, which brings its own issues. We've tried to show how his Egg influences him and the other Targs, so you get someone like Maekar who almost seems beyond his years, and with Jon you have this intelligence, and skill set, yet he's still a boy. Add in the emotional turmoil of his situation, a mother/father who are dead and hated by a lot of people because of their perceived/and actual actions. A surrogate mother who was forced to leave his side because of how people treated her, and the weight of who he is and what his grandmother seeks him to do, and well, it's a miracle he's not given into the so-called Targ Madness. As for Marge, she's put the pressure on herself and is a bit of a victim of Olenna's training, tbh.

We did consider having the betrothal broken, but there is no way that Olenna would accept it and while a Reach civil war could be fun, we felt it best to have events play out and the chips fall where they may.

With Cassana, we wanted some of Canon Sansa, but with a little more realistic education since she's Stannis' child. Now, she's again heavily influenced by her mother's wants and desires, and of course, a bit of a spoiled brat, as most of the children are, to be honest. In canon, Jon didn't realize that he was spoiled until reaching the Wall, and here, it'll take events to force characters to understand it too. But, yes, Cassana, Margaery, and even Jon are spoiled.

Glad you like Viserys, we wanted to go a completely different route with him, and throwing Asher into the mix just seemed like fun. As for Maekar, well he's our fave to write, as we have a set plan in place with him and keep hinting at it from time to time.
Ariadne: I get that. But it's more that she's fighting two sides of herself that we're aiming for. Her head is telling her that she needs to marry the prince so as to protect her family, while her heart leans towards Jon, that's what the rose part hints at. It's to be more blatant from here on in, but I understand people dislike her, as in some ways she's like Sansa at the beginning of canon, all spoiled and wanting only what she wants, even if it's not what's best for her. We have an arc planned out, people may still not like her at the end of it, but it is supposed to serve a purpose and either we manage to turn people around on Marge, or we don't. All I'll say is that we deliberately chose to paint her in one light, so as to then show the other.

Also while yes, both Jon and Marge find the other attractive, it's not simply hormones or looks, or not in Marge's case, anyway. With Jon, he's not truly had the chance to examine how he feels about her, because he's still coming to terms with knowing it's what his grandmother/mother wishes for him. But, it's deeper than Marge just wants to Tap That as you put it, even if she does lol.

Chona: So glad to hear that, in terms of the egg hatching, all I can say is that we have it planned and worked out and how it will happen. Regarding the Hand of the King arc, we won't be doing that here, as Robert wouldn't ask Benjen and Jon is too young, so we will be going a different route than that to move all the pieces into place for the conflict.

Beatshield: So very glad you liked it.

Liger86: Truer words have never been spoken.

Xan Merrick: Thanks my friend, so glad you enjoyed it.

Orthankg: Glad you liked it.

KEZZ: So happy you're enjoying it.

RyalleAnya7tt: I always find it amusing that people hate the Tyrells so much, I mean they screwed up during the Rebellion, fine, but after that, they are no different than any other House, in that they wish to rise as high as they can. To me, Hoster's actions trump Olenna's, he literally force fed his daughter Moon Tea and forced marriages upon a grieving brother and a man old enough to be his daughter's grandfather. Olenna simply made the deals that were on the table, and I still say the first one was forced upon her which then led to the next. Had Robb Stark reached out, had they known of the truth of Jon, then after Renly fell, they'd have done a deal with the North Imo. Had they known of Jon earlier, then it would have been him they sought simply because it was the best match.

Mace may not have given leave to travel to the Trident in canon, but he at least stayed loyal to the end, the Tullys jumped for gain and nothing else, so to me they're the worst of all.

Just my opinion, though.