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.

18. I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Highgarden 295 AC.

Willas Tyrell.

His brother may have fooled Margaery, Garlan, their father and mother, and mayhap even their grandmother with his reasons for returning to Highgarden, but Willas knew better. Not the exact circumstances, however, simply the root of those reasons and he cursed the world for making Loras so unhappy. That Loras was able to put aside his own heartbreak and be joyful for Garlan finding what he'd found with his new wife, only proved even more to Willas that his brother's heart was pure.

It took until the Starks arrived from the North for Willas to find out who and why Loras had felt the need to cut short his squireship under Ser Symon Lake. Ser Richard Lonmouth as he truly was and as his grandmother had confided in him when Willas had spoken to her. The Knight of Skulls and Kisses and former squire to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was a much more worthy man to knight his brother than a knight from an obsolete House in Dorne. Yet it was the other young man who trained under Ser Rodrik Cassell who had won his brother's heart. Domeric Bolton, who was the heir to the Dreadfort and someone his brother could never truly be with.

Willas knew all too well the pressures that came with being the heir to a Great House. The need for a worthy and suitable match that helped your House grow strong was something that would have been instilled in him even if it was not his House's words. For Domeric Bolton it would be much the same and unlike with Loras, a firstborn son could not have the freedom that a thirdborn would be allowed to enjoy.

'Would that was the world we lived in'

Willas had confirmed his suspicions regarding Loras and Domeric most quickly. The longing looks that both aimed in the other's direction. How despite each of them wishing for nothing more than to spend time together, they almost went out of their way not to. Added to each time anyone else spoke to the one, then the other person would stiffen and tense. It was why when he heard what Bethany Stark proposed, Willas tried to get his brother to consider accepting. Why he'd confided in Loras that their grandmother and father would seek a match for him with the young lady if he did not.

"Lord Stark would never accept such an offer. Beth is worth far more than a third son."

"You are worthy of any match, brother. Even one you have no desire for." Willas defended his brother and Loras offered him a sad smile in return.

"Besides, if there is to be a match between our Houses, it'll be Jon and Margaery that grandmother and father wish for. Not mine nor even yours, brother."

Willas knew that was true. Even though it was not a match between House Stark and House Tyrell that his grandmother was seeking through Margaery. No, on that his grandmother's sights were set much higher. A Prince of House Targaryen, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, and a crown atop Margaery's head was what a match with Jon Stark would bring them. His grandmother had confided that truth to him and no one else a few moons ago.

"I need counsel, Willas, counsel from a mind as sharp as mine own."

"Is there such a thing in all the land, Grandmother?"

"Flatter me not, Willas, for I'm most troubled and in no mood for such."

"Forgive me, Grandmother, how may I help?."

"We've spoken of Lady Ashara's visit, of what she bid of me and who it was in truth that she acted for?"

"We have."

"Knowing that Rhaella wished for it and given just how much the North has grown strong while we have very much not, I was forced to entertain the idea of the match. Meeting the young lad in question, I'm now forced to not just do so, but to ignore any other and do all in my power to see that it is the one that is realized."

"For why?" he asked keenly.

"Because Jon Stark's mother is not Ashara Dayne, nor is his father Eddard Stark."

It took Willas a moment and the name he came up with seemed to him to be the most logical, even if it was the wrong one.

"Brandon Stark."

"If it was so then there would be no need for the lie, Willas."

His grandmother looked at him curiously, almost willing him to make the connections and get there before she had a need to tell him. Thankfully he did so and he caught the briefest look of pride in her eyes when he said the names.

"Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen," he said and his grandmother nodded. "They were wed." he quickly added, realizing that if they were not then Rhaella Targaryen wouldn't be seeking to crown her grandson. For she surely was if she wished it to be Jon Stark and not Viserys Targaryen that Margaery was to be wed to.

"They were, though I've no proof of such."

"Queen Rhaella must have."

"She must and given who serves by her side, a witness too no doubt."

"Ser Arthur Dayne."

"Your sister will be queen, Willas, and we will Grow Strong." his grandmother left no room for doubt so assuredly did she say the words.

So Loras had indeed been right. It would not be a match with Bethany Stark that her grandmother would join House Tyrell and House Stark. Though it would and was still one that was to be offered. Willas was still unsure of the reasons other than mayhap to convince Jon Stark that a match with Margaery was one he should accept. Given that it had practically been agreed with the young man's mother, for that was what Ashara Dayne was by choice if not blood, it only needed Jon Stark's approval.

Something that Willas wasn't certain would be forthcoming when he first saw how Margaery and her future husband interacted with each other. His sister was all politeness and courtesy with the rest of the Starks and the Northern Party. Yet when it came to Jon Stark, there was a coldness there that took Willas aback. Especially considering that just as with Loras and Domeric Bolton, each time Margaery looked Jon Stark's way there was much interest in her eyes. As too there was in Jon Stark's, Willas believed. Or mayhap hoped, since he knew that unlike other matches, this one would happen even if there were no feelings between them both.

'Tis, but the way of the world.'

That was the truth of things. Unless you were the head of your House, your wishes for who you would wed were less important than the wishes of your family. Be it your father or mother, or in their House, grandmother, they were who decided who to approach and the match would then be agreed almost without any input on your part. Jon Stark's match had been decided by his grandmother, as had Margaery's by their own. Politics, practicality, and what each brought to the table meant far more than either of them even liking the other. Their match would define the very future of Westeros, so why let a little thing like love play any part in the deciding of it.

'Because she is my sister.' Willas thought to himself.

So as the tourney had begun, Willas, just as he was with Garlan and Leonette, Loras and Domeric, he too spent much of his time watching Jon Stark and Margaery. He'd seen more and more how his sister looked at Jon Stark. Had watched her smile when she thought no one was looking her way. Glanced every so often to see if Jon Stark was paying her attention or not. Willas had even seen how jealous Margaery had been over the fact that their cousin had her own crush on the future king. Even if Desmera held that crush for the boy she thought Jon Stark was and not the man he would one day be.

On the night of the opening feast, Willas was not alone in looking on with a keen eye when Jon Stark helped Lady Reed from the Great Hall. He could see how Desmera swooned almost and Margaery bristled. Both of them showed their feelings as clearly as the other, though in much different ways. Desmera proved her own were merely those of an infatuated girl, while Margaery's showing of her thorns hinted that hers were far truer than that.

During the melee, Willas had seen how both Jon Stark and Margaery looked the other's way. He'd then seen the disappointment in his sister's face when she'd heard that Jon would not be competing in the joust. Only the appearance of a Mystery Knight removing that disappointment. While he couldn't be certain and Loras refused to divulge the truth, Willas believed he knew who the Mystery Knight was. Seeing him ask for Margaery's favor, then made him pray that he was right. For if it was indeed Jon Stark under that helm, then his own feelings for Margaery had just been proved.

A conversation with his grandmother made him hope this even more fully. The match had now been made and confirmed by the man himself. Jon Stark and Margaery's betrothal was to be announced at the end of the tourney and Willas wondered if he'd see his sister named a queen by Jon before then. Given how the Mystery Knight rode, he wagered there was a more than decent chance he would. For Jon Stark to win the tourney, however, it seemed he'd need to defeat Loras to do so.

"Loras! Highgarden!" Willas shouted out loudly as his brother took yet another victory. This one over the man who'd earlier knighted him in front of the entire crowd.

Watching Jon Stark, or who he believed was Jon Stark, win his own victory and earn his place in the final, Willas found himself worrying just a little. Firstly, regarding both rider's health in the upcoming joust. His own injury may have come from inexperience and ill fortune, yet it came all the same. Loras and the Mystery Knight both had him beat in the former, neither of them were immune to the latter, however. Secondly, he worried that he'd gotten it wrong and that it wasn't Jon Stark under the helm. That the Mystery Knight would prove to be someone else and it would cast a shadow on what was to come. Margaery being betrothed after being crowned by another man would be spoken of and Loras should he win would not be crowning their sister. Willas almost now cheering even more loudly for his brother to win the day.

In the end, his fears turned out to be for naught. Both riders were unhurt and Loras quickly rose to his feet after being unseated. The Mystery Knight was indeed Jon Stark and he crowned Margaery as his Queen of Love and Beauty. His sister wore a beaming smile as she accepted the garland and all through the stands the cheers rang out loudly. Almost every single man, woman, and child there seemed to be most happy with how things had played out. None more so than his grandmother who wore mayhap the most contented look that Willas had ever seen her wear.

That night's feast was a glorious and happy occasion. Willas looked on happily as he saw just how Jon Stark and Margaery interacted with each other. Any doubts he had that there were true feelings there between them both, were not ones he held for long. Nor could anyone have any if they merely paid attention to the dances that Jon and Margaery shared. Or how once those dances were finished, neither seemed as happy when they danced with someone else.

When the betrothal was announced, Willas looked more to the guests in the Great Hall than to his sister and future Goodbrother. He saw how Lord Stark seemed taken aback by the announcement and he wondered if he'd been unaware it was to be made. Soon, however, it was the others in the Great Hall that Willas looked to. Happy to see that none seemed upset or put out over the match. Willas knew full well that once the truth of who Jon Stark truly was, was revealed, those looks would be even happier than they now were. The Reach wished for nothing more than to follow the Dragons and see one on the throne, especially a son of Prince Rhaegar, Willas would wager.

"I must be abed, Willas, walk with me."

"If you insist, Grandmother," Willas replied, earning himself a roll of his grandmother's eyes in response.

Soon enough they were far from the Great Hall. The sound of his cane seemed to be much louder in the quietness of Highgarden's corridors. Upon reaching his grandmother's rooms, Erryk and Arryk took up their positions outside. One of them would soon head to get some rest only to then replace his brother so he could do the same. Both Left and Right as his grandmother snarkily named them would somehow be on duty when she woke upon the morrow. Willas was still unsure how they managed to do so and yet ever be alert. With a nod to the two men, Willas entered the room as his grandmother bid him and took a seat by the already lit fire. The servants knew better than to leave it unlit or for it not to be already at full blaze.

"You are happy, grandmother?"

"I am. The future of two of my grandchildren is assured. I wish only now for the future of two more to be so, as well."

"You have more grandchildren, grandmother." he chided gently.

"You think I've no plans for your cousins? Do you not know me at all, child?" his grandmother chided back, Willas hiding his smile at being named a child as he knew it was done with affection and not annoyance.

"Loras wishes to be in the North, it would serve us well for him to return to House Stark would it not?"

"As what?" his grandmother looked at him with intrigue.

"For now, does it truly matter?" he began, hurriedly adding a potential boon to his attempt to help his brother follow his heart. "In time, a white cloak mayhap?"

A nod of his grandmother's head was the only acknowledgment he got that not only was his suggestion welcomed, but it had merit too.

"And my other grandson?" his grandmother raised her eyebrow

"Shall do as his grandmother wishes him. As he always has and will," he said rising to his feet.

"The girl is a beauty by all accounts, Willas and though not an aunt by blood, she is one in all but name."

"Growing Strong, Grandmother."

"Growing Strong, Willas."

He kissed his grandmother's cheek and walked out of the room. As he'd expected, only one of the twins was on duty as the other got a few hours of sleep before he later returned to let his brother do the same. A simple nod of his head and Willas then walked alone through the family wing and headed to his rooms. His future was now most present in his thoughts as he thought of Allyria Dayne and the match his grandmother most sought for him.

That the girl would be a beauty, he had no doubt. Lady Ashara was mayhap the single most beautiful woman in the land during her youth. Even when she'd come to visit it was clear the years had been kind and Willas knew that his grandmother had even suggested a match with her rather than her sister. Though it was not a match he expected would be considered and so he'd given it no true thought. Lady Allyria, however, was far more likely to be accepted and while there would be some who would think it a poor one, they'd be foolish to do so. As for Willas, he'd not thought much about marriage and while he'd spent much of this tourney contemplating on love, it was the love of others he'd considered.

"Should I be fortunate enough to know some of mine own, then so be it," he whispered as he entered his chambers and closed the door behind him.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Lord Benjen Stark.

Benjen left as soon as he could, not wanting to make a scene in front of the Lannisters and others who would ensure word of his discontent would be sent to Court. Yet discontent was a weak word compared to what the recurring words in his mind made him feel at that moment.

Anger. Disappointment. Fear.

Betrayal.

How could Jon out of all people go behind his back and agree to a betrothal with the Tyrells?

How could he not tell him?

He heard a knock on his door and pondered on opening it or not, the clipped voice of his son as he entered the room only fueling Benjen's anger.

"Did you know?" he asked Brandon when he finally turned to speak to him. Beth and Meera trailed after his son and Benjen only then noticing that Brandon was not alone.

"I did not, but Meera here knew." his son answered, resentment clear in his tone when he looked at his supposed friend.

"Explain yourself," Benjen ordered coldly.

"I cannot, my Lord. Not without betraying my friend's confidence" Meera answered, staring at him with knowing eyes.

"Yet you would betray mine? Do you have any idea of what he's done?"

"I know full well, my Lord, and so does he."

"We welcomed you into our home and this is how you repay us? Me?"

"If it weren't for Jon, I would never have come to your home and well you know it." the impertinent girl stated impassively. "Out of all of you, he was the one who accepted me fully and my loyalty is to Jon even before your family. I am sorry it had to come to this, and as punishment, I am fully ready to go back home now if that is your wish."

"Meera, he never said that." Beth retorted, turning to him with pleading eyes, yet Benjen said nothing. He could not.

The truth was that he was now convinced that the Reeds were behind all of this. Howland and Jyana had both always advocated bringing the Tyrells closer to the fold, and for him to let Jon and Margaery get to know each other.

Benjen now blamed himself for his lack of foresight. He should not have let them grow so close to Jon, especially knowing what Howland wanted the lad to become. They had indoctrinated Meera, then used their burgeoning friendship to push his nephew into choosing his so-called fate, and like the idiot he was, Jon had fallen for it.

"We leave on the morrow. I'll send someone to get your belongings and send them to your home." Benjen stated, ignoring his children's pleas.

"No need for that. All my belongings are here." Meera said, her eyes filling with tears. "I thank you for all you taught me, my Lord. I understand your anger and I urge you to talk to your nephew before you pass any judgment on him."

"'Tis too late for that, don't you think?" he scoffed bitterly.

"'Tis never too late to understand someone's motives, my Lord," she said bowing her head before leaving the room.

"Father, you cannot chase her away from Winterfell." Beth cried.

"So I should reward her for lying to us all?"

"I am not happy with what she did, Father, but in this situation, with the rumors and the betrothal, it will shame her family," Brandon said, surprising him.

"Let them be shamed. I thought she would be the voice of reason should Jon try something stupid. In the end, she is only her father's daughter." Benjen spat.

"I thought you were friends with Lord Reed." Beth frowned.

"Aye, I thought so too."

"What is going on, Father? I know what Jon did was disrespectful to you, but –"

"You should ask your cousin. After all, he's the one willing to risk our family by his actions."

"Is it about the King's request for a betrothal? You think he will take the announcement badly?" Brandon asked.

"Well, it's no secret that he hates the Tyrells." Beth sighed.

"You wanted him to wed Princess Myrcella?" Bran insisted. "She's a child! I may not like Margaery Tyrell but it makes far more sense –"

"Leave me. I need to be alone right now." Benjen cut him off, overwhelmed by his son's questions.

Benjen could not calm himself down. He did not think he would ever be able to. The hurt he felt was too vivid, too raw for him to think clearly. Angered and annoyed and worse, he was faced with the horrible truth which was that he had been completely blindsided by his nephew and the Tyrells. No one had thought it appropriate to include him, though he was supposed to be Jon's regent.

Now, he could hear Jon's voice outside asking his guards how cross he was, and his fury increased tenfold as his nephew then appeared in front of him.

"I would have gotten past your transgression regarding the tourney. I would have gotten past that since you didn't hurt yourself and won the damnable thing. But this… This is unforgivable."

"I know. Which is why I do not ask for your forgiveness." Jon said, stopping Benjen from exploding by holding up his hand, a gesture the Lord Regent oft used to do himself to signal he wasn't finished talking. "They know about me, Uncle. They know and we cannot trust them with that truth. You would have argued with me as you do with Aunt Barbrey every time a match is discussed. You would have prevented me from doing this because it aligns too much with what Grandmother wants. You would have tried and probably succeeded in making me wait, but time is a luxury we do not have anymore."

"So you went behind my back and plotted with Olenna Tyrell, of all people?"

"I did what I had to do to protect my family. I did what you did not have the heart to do –"

"Don't you dare –"

"This is the truth and you know it!" Jon exploded. "They would have asked much more of us had we waited any longer. Mace Tyrel already proposed a match between Loras and Beth, something I know you would never agree with."

"You discussed my child's future without me?"

"That is not the point, Uncle!"

"This is exactly the point! I am your Regent!"

"And I thank you for everything you did for me until now, for delaying the inevitable for as much time as you did, but we cannot delay any longer. I cannot let any loose ends stand, not when it comes to this." Jon sighed, sounding and looking far beyond his tender age.

"They will make you go for it! They will push you to war!"

"I made my peace with that. As long as it gives Beth, Bran, and Ben more time to enjoy their lives then I've made my peace with it."

"Is it worth hurting them?"

"You're the only one being hurt, Uncle. They are concerned, but you take it personally instead of –"

"With reason! You went behind my back and you're condemning them, us –"

"What do you think would happen if Margaery Tyrell decided to sell my secret to marry Joffrey Baratheon? We were doomed from the moment they figured this out." Jon declared angrily.

"You mean the moment Ashara told them!" Benjen spat back.

"Mother bought us time! She bought me time. Were it not for her, Grandmother would have told them much earlier!" Jon protested.

"She's working for her, she always has been. This!" Benjen exclaimed, gesturing wildly between them. "This is what she wanted! For you to follow your paternal side's foolish plan and leave your maternal side to pick the pieces, as usual!"

"You think that is what I am doing?"Jon asked, his voice wavering. "You think I would risk our family's safety to please my Grandmother?"

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

A tear fell and Benjen watched it as it made its way down Jon's cheek before the latter then straightened his features and wiped it away impassionately.

"Then I think we have nothing else to discuss, Uncle."

Benjen stood in shock as he realized the scope of his words and how they had affected his nephew. He had been too far gone in his anger that he had wanted to inflict upon Jon the same pain he was feeling at that moment, but seeing his nephew close himself further from him made it feel so very wrong of him to do so.

Part of him wanted to take it back, the part that knew deep inside him that Jon had been right and that a union with the Tyrells was bound to happen, but his hurt ego refused to allow him to do so for now.

Let Jon deal with the consequences of his actions and the disappointment he caused.

His head ached and once again he cursed himself for being in the South, for the sweet wine had not the same soothing effect mead or beer had on him. As he fell into bed that night, Benjen offered a quick prayer to the Gods that everything would sort out in the morrow.

The dreams that came were those of war. Dreams of his family being decimated and Winterfell suffering the same fate as Driftmark. His hand had been cut off so he could not kill himself. Barbrey, Little Ben, and Brandon's bodies had been brought in front of the king and Benjen let out a broken wail. Beth and Jon were still alive, though they were bound and had been tortured.

"You hid a Dragonspawn. You lied but you could not hide him forever. Did you think you would get away with this?"

"I protected my kin. My family had nothing to do with it."

"Your sister betrayed me. You betrayed your brother's memory, your father's memory, by choosing to protect this bastard. By allying yourself with the Dragons who were responsible for your family's deaths. By marrying into traitors. You think I would not figure it out?"

"The Tyrells would have betrayed him! We had no choice!"

"You had one. Yet you instead chose to raise the Dragonspawn and make him rise against me!" Robert exploded.

"I only wanted to protect my sister's son! I could not let you kill him!" Benjen cried out.

"Look where it got you. He will die anyway, and now I will make sure to erase the name Stark from every history book. You traitors deserve nothing less."

"Kill me! I beg of you!" Benjen begged, sobbing. "But leave my daughter alone."

"Oh, no no no. You don't get to die." Tywin Lannister interjected with an evil smirk on his face. "You'll pay dearly for mocking the Lions and the Stags."

"Please, my little girl…" he begged, his eyes glued on his despaired daughter.

"Your sister was supposed to be mine. She whored herself to the Dragon. I will make sure that your daughter repays me in kind." Robert spat as he made his guard leave with a distraught Beth.

"No, don't do this, please! Beth! BETH!"

"But first; the Dragonspawn has to be dealt with."

Benjen watched helplessly as his nephew was stabbed repeatedly by the king. Robert showed no mercy, making a spectacle of Jon's death and Benjen could hear his daughter's cries as well as his own. Jon had been long dead when Robert slit his throat, and the monster ordered his broken body to be paraded on the streets while Benjen was being made to watch.

Benjen woke up yelling his nephew's name, his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He tried telling himself that it was just his imagination, but he knew that it was deeper, a manifestation of his true fear. The truth was that he had a lot to lose now, far more than just himself, he had built a pack of his own and now he had to do whatever it took to make sure it would not fall at Robert Baratheon's hands. To do that, he needed Jon to see his point and to stop acting like a lone wolf, for they were all in this situation together. He may too have to inform his children of what danger was looming over all their heads, but he had to speak to Jon first.

In a way, he was surprised to be alone in breaking his fast. Benjen had heard from the servants that he had overslept, a fact he found hard to believe because of the nightmare he had and the unrest he felt. He however asked one of them to summon Jon for him, hoping his nephew would behave more calmly and composed while in a public setting than he had behind closed doors.

'I may too be more level-headed with strangers around.' he admitted to himself in his thoughts.

Benjen frowned when Brandon arrived instead of Jon, his serious demeanor filling the Lord Regent with dread.

"Where is your cousin?"

"On his way to Starfall." Brandon spat back.

"What did you say?" Benjen asked incredulously.

"He left this morn. Promised to send a letter when he'll arrive. Meera left with him."

"I never gave him leave to depart."

"You didn't give him leave to agree to a betrothal, yet he did so anyway." Bran scoffed.

"Why didn't you wake me? You should have told me as soon as he informed you!"

"Jon has behaved stupidly, I told him so already. But knowing you, you would have punished him by preventing him from seeing his mother, and the last thing he needed was to be riled up by someone else." Brandon retorted, making him tense.

"Someone else?"

"Margaery Tyrell told him she didn't wish to be wed to him. That she felt forced by her family to do something she had no wish for." Bran explained. "I think this hurt him more than you previously did."

"I –"

"He gave me a letter for you. Told me not to read it or I would be in a lot of trouble with you. As if I wasn't already." Bran cut him off, giving him the missive. "We're almost ready to leave. The sooner we do, the better, if you want my opinion. Not that it would change anything."

"What's with you? You seem to be angry at me."

"You chased Meera away," he said reproachfully.

"She disrespected –"

"Aye, I know. But you could have handled it better. How do you think Jon reacted when he heard about it? Of course, he would feel the need to bring Meera with him now!"

"He can only blame himself for that." Benjen retorted, feeling his anger grow.

"You have to stop seeing us as boys, Father. You have to trust us more. You've been dismissive ever since we went to the New Gift. I voiced my concern to you about my sister, about my cousins, about the future of our House, all for you to bristle at the word wedding and push us away as if we had the Great Sickness. We feel like we cannot talk to you anymore." Brandon started and Benjen watched his son in shock.

"I… I never wanted to sound dismissive," he admitted. "I wanted you all to come to me if you have any concerns. That is what I'm here for, what your mother is here for, as parents and for Jon as his Regent."

"Yet you didn't listen when Jon brought up the subject of marriage, else you would not be as angry as you are right now. He's been preparing us for this eventuality for moons, Father. I'm sure Mother won't even be surprised by the news."

"So you want me to, what, forget that he did this without informing us? Let it go as if he didn't undermine my authority?" Benjen asked, frowning as his mind reeled from the accusations he received.

"Even though I don't like that he went into the Roses' garden alone, I trust him enough to believe Jon knows what he is doing."

"Trust is earned, Brandon. And neither of you did anything lately to earn mine."

"No wonder he did not tell you about the betrothal." Brandon spat.

"Careful, boy. I do not appreciate your tone with me. Nor will I tolerate you judging my actions." Benjen warned.

"In that case, can I be dismissed, my Lord?" Brandon asked, clenching his teeth in anger.

"Seven Hells, you're as bad as each other. Go, do whatever you want." Benjen sighed, exasperated with his son's attitude.

He knew his son had a point. Brandon was known for speaking his mind, contrary to Jon who, while usually telling the truth, would not do so as bluntly as his cousin would. Part of Benjen felt guilty and ashamed that his own son didn't feel he could confide in him anymore.

Am I failing as a father?

Benjen had been so obsessed not to replicate his father's mistake by betrothing his children to people they didn't want to be tied with, that he ended up closing himself to any proposal given to him. He'd thought he would not have his family turn on him as Lyanna and Brandon turned on their father, yet he now found himself in Rickard's position.

His hands were trembling as he mustered the courage to open the letter.

Uncle,

More than once I dreamt of leaving everything behind, the responsibility of being a Lord, a Warden, so I could be free of any repercussions. Now I am doing so for the time being.

I do not plan on running away with Meera and shaming mine or my betrothed's family. I will be with Mother in Starfall as intended. I do not know when I'll be back. I want to spend time with the only person I feel truly supports me nowadays, so I can look forward to the miserable future I have brought on myself. When the time is right, I will come back and resume my duty as Lord of Winterfell.

I think we both need the distance to think about the future and if we will be able to overcome our divergences.

Know that my motives have always been to protect our family. 'Tis not something I chose lightly, in the spur of the moment. I tried so hard to bring it to your attention, but I was tired. Tired of always fighting with you, tired of you constantly putting my intentions to the test and attributing them to outside forces. This may not be the explanation you expected, but this is the truth and the only one I can give.

This may seem like a cowardly way to deal with the consequences of my actions, to depart without bidding you my farewell. You may think I am my Mother's son through and through. After our last conversation, I realized how I have been nothing but a source of worry to you. I know my leaving will disappoint you again and further your worry. Yet I know not how to soothe those worries nor make up for that disappointment.

I hope someday you'll be proud of me, though I know it won't be soon.

I'll send a raven when we arrive.

Jon.

All the anger vanished from Benjen's body. He could feel his nephew's hurt through the words he'd chosen and echoing through his writing. So consumed had he been by his fear of losing any more members of his family that he ended up losing the one he was mainly trying so hard to protect.

How had they lost touch with each other? Was he the only one to blame for the rift growing between him and Jon?

Could this rift be mended?

Jon had made his intentions clear. He thought it best to arrange a marriage between him and Margaery Tyrell, and since Benjen could not talk to his nephew for now, it would be to the Roses he would go for more answers. His footsteps took him purposely to the door to the Queen of Thorn's inner sanctum. Benjen then waited beside one of her giant guards before then being brought to her solar.

"To what do I owe this delightful visit, Lord Stark?" Olenna asked, smirking when he got to her solar.

"I want to hear from you about what your plans for my nephew are."

"A sensible request, judging by his sudden departure this morn and your desire to leave as soon as possible, I surmise he didn't tell you of his?"

"I know enough –"

"Do you, truly? Soon our family will be tied together. Your fate will become ours. We need to be on the same page, Lord Stark. We're going to be family soon, after all."

"Aye, this I understood. Not that I like it, but I know the consequences of a disunited front. which is why I came bearing some advice."

"What kind of advice would you possibly –"

"Your condescension will be your undoing. Both yours and your granddaughter's." Benjen interrupted.

"Margaery?"

"If you want her to be someone the North will follow, truly and without any reservation, you will have to redo her whole education," he stated firmly.

"May I remind you that you are the one in need of our forces to win whatever –"

"No, you're only getting your wish because my nephew does not trust you. You may have the soldiers and you could very well turn the tide in our favor, but now that word will get out that we will soon become family, you cannot turn your cloak. You're stuck with us, for better and for worse."

"We have but one word, Benjen, Mine own. And once given it is never gone back on. I've given it to your nephew and to his grandmother, I give it now to you. We are joined in this venture, for good or ill."

"Yet your granddaughter made it clear to my nephew that she doesn't want the match." Benjen pointed out, making Olenna tense.

"What Margaery thinks is no matter, my Lord. The betrothal is done and she will do what is expected of her."

"Well, the North remembers, my Lady. The North remembers Lady Lynesse and her shaming of her husband's House. See that Lady Margaery does not follow in her aunt's footsteps."

Olenna gritted her teeth as well as the quill she held in her hand and Benjen felt somewhat vindicated. He knew the lady and her family didn't take well the reparations they had to send to Jorah after years of searching for the lady unsuccessfully.

"You have until my nephew is of age to prepare your granddaughter. Do what you must. Send her our way if you feel it necessary. Jon may be the one who chose the betrothal, only the North will be the one to allow their wedding, for he listens to his bannermen more than he does his family."

"Is that a threat, Lord Stark?"

"Call me Benjen. We're going to be family, after all," he replied snippily.

"I will see to my granddaughter's manner, then."

Benjen couldn't and wouldn't say he didn't enjoy the feeling of unsettling the famed Queen of Thorns when he left the room. He wasn't a player of the great game like Rhaella Targaryen or Olenna Tyrell may well be, but he was still a Wolf whose first mission was to protect his pack. The truth may be that he could not dictate what Jon would do, but Benjen would make sure his nephew would be with someone worthy of him. Someone who would never put him down and would respect him as he deserved to be.

It might not be enough to mend their relationship, but Benjen would make the best of their situation, for his nephew deserved to feel supported by his family, whether the Lord Regent liked his choices or not.

Highgarden 295 AC.

Margaery Tyrell.

One night she'd promised herself. Margaery allowed the thoughts of what the betrothal and future marriage could be to chase away the thoughts of it never coming to pass. She'd found that once she'd done so, she'd quite enjoyed the idea of being wed to Jon Stark. The words they'd shared, little looks he'd aimed in her direction. Simply seeing just how happy everyone in the Great Hall was for them both, was all something Margaery had welcomed.

Her mother and father were most pleased by the announcement of the match as was her grandmother and Margaery couldn't lie, a part of her hated that it was not something she would go through with. Looking at the Starks, she had been surprised to see some shock at the news as she'd believed it was only her who'd been unaware of it. Something that she bristled over this morning and yet had very much not the night before. Still, Margaery had put it down to their own lack of good cheer regarding that, and only upon waking did she question whether there were other reasons for it.

Were they not pleased with the match?

Had her behavior during her visits to Winterfell truly turned them against her?

If she so wished could she still win them over?

Did she wish to do so?

In truth, they were questions which helped her not and so Margaery quickly forced them from her mind. Instead, it was the one other person who seemed most put out by the announcement of the betrothal that she now began to think about. Her cousin had shown much interest in Jon Stark and Margaery now began to wonder if that was a course of action available to her. Could she be replaced with Desmera and would it be a replacement that her grandmother and Jon Stark would accept. The latter of those two thoughts vexed her and caused her some distress.

'I may not wish to wed the man, but I wish for him to want my hand above all.' She lied to herself.

Deep down, forced into the recesses of her heart, Margaery knew that she wished to be wed to Jon Stark. Even her fears for her family's future were not enough to not make that so unless she truly forced herself to do so. The night she'd spent dreaming of a wedding to be held in the North was proof enough of that. It was a dream that she may carry with her for much of her life and yet it was one she knew she'd do all she could to never see realized.

"Grandmother will accept Desmera as his bride, as she will the prince as my husband. Growing Strong." Margaery said determinedly.

She kept that determination all through getting dressed. As she did while walking to break her fast. Almost all of her cousins were with her and chattering excitedly about how handsome her betrothed was and how romantic it had been to see her crowned. Margaery was both glad that Desmera had chosen not to join them this morning and upset that her cousin had not done so at the same time.

Entering the Great Hall, she was pleased to see it was only her family who were present. Loras sitting and speaking to Willas while Garlan was engaged in a private conversation with his new wife. Her mother, father, and grandmother were either not up as of yet or had already eaten. Margaery was thankful for that and for the fact that Jon Stark was nowhere to be seen. The thoughts of the conversation she would need to have with him were ones that she truly wished not to dwell on. Not if she wished to sate the hunger she felt this morning.

"Good Morrow, Sister." Willas greeted her warmly as Margaery poked Loras on the shoulder in mock annoyance.

"Good Morrow, Brother Mine. Your manners are impeccable as always, which is more than can be said about our knightly brother." Margaery poked Loras once more and received no indication he'd heard her words or felt her doing so. "Loras Tyrell," she exclaimed and she almost struck his shoulder when her brother doubled over in laughter.

"I told you, less than a moment it took," Loras said through his laughter. Margaery now realized that her brother had pulled a prank on her and only that she was hungry, she'd have begun to plot her own in return.

"You are a fool, Brother mine."

"It brought a smirk to your face, did it not?"

Margaery refused to answer, Loras rolling his eyes as he looked at their brother and despite herself, she smiled as her food was placed in front of her. They ate and spoke on the tourney, both her brothers speaking about her betrothal and Margaery wondered if either of them could sense her reticence. The arrival of Jon Stark soon changed the mood somewhat and whether or not Loras had felt it beforehand, Margaery believed her brother certainly did so now.

A polite bow of her betrothed's head and Jon taking a seat at another table was both welcomed and very much not. As too was Loras bidding her farewell for now and moving to join Jon at his table. Her brother spoke in hushed whispers to her betrothed as Willas leaned in and began to speak to Margaery likewise. Margaery was torn between looking at one conversation and engaging in the other. Willas' words soon forced her to do the latter even if it was the former she most wished for.

"He's a good man, Marge. One I have no fears of when it comes to my sister."

"He is a good man," Margaery said firmly. She believed he was, mayhap even the best of men and yet in the end it mattered not. Not if she wished her family to prosper.

"I believe you'll find as much love with Jon Stark as our brother has with his new wife, Margaery. There is an attraction there already, is there ?"

Nodding her head, Margaery spent the conversation answering the questions Willas asked as truthfully as she could. All the while, she worked out in her head the plan of action she would embark on to see the betrothal broken. It needed to be one that caused no shame to either Jon Stark or Margaery herself. For he deserved not any stain on his reputation and Margaery would do all she could to ensure that did not occur. Her own couldn't suffer either, as to ensnare a prince, she could not be seen as tainted in any way.

As she glanced at Loras and Jon, she found his dark grey eyes looking her way and they almost stilled her breath with how they looked at her. Despite her plans, Margaery offered her betrothed a smile and was pleased to see one offered to her in return. So too were both her brothers given the way Loras nodded and Willas touched her softly on her arm. Her oldest brother then spoke softly in her ear to let her know that Desmera was making her way to their table.

To her cousin's credit, Desmera showed no outward sign that she was upset at how events had played out. Margaery had known that her cousin had found Jon Stark interesting and extremely attractive. Just as she had the idea of being asked for her favor and later crowned by a Mystery Knight. For that knight to then turn out to be Jon Stark, had only made her cousin long for it even more, or so Margaery believed.

Seeing them be betrothed later on, Margaery wondered what had gone through Desmera's mind. Feeling the need to offer her cousin some hope that it was still something that could come to pass. That there was a chance for her and Jon Stark to be matched, despite his betrothal to Margaery, she asked her cousin to join her as she took a walk to the Labyrinth. Desmera doing so most reluctantly and yet doing so all the same and they soon found themselves alone other than their guards. Guards that Margaery bid give them space so they could speak freely.

"I knew not about the betrothal, Desmera, I wish you to believe me on that."

"I care not." her cousin said snarkily.

"It's not the match I would seek, as good and true as Jon Stark is. I've no wish to name the North my home, not after what happened with my aunt and so…."

"So what?" Desmera said angrily. "You get a match with mayhap the most eligible man in the Seven Kingdoms and yet you wish for it not."

"I.."

"Want a prince, wish yourself to be queen. Care not for anything but for that you care for."

"Desmera I…"

"You are the most selfish girl I've ever known, Margaery Tyrell. Not happy with all you've been gifted, all you ever wish for is what you've not got."

"Desmera…"

"I hope you get your wish and are wed to a prince, for I wager once you are you'll realize that's not what you truly wanted. Just like all selfish people, once you get something, you want it not. A betrothal, a garland, to be named Queen of Love and Beauty in front of all and sundry, and yet you can think only of what you've not gotten and not what is right in front of you. Damn you, damn you to the Seven Hells and I curse the fact that we share blood."

Margaery stood there in shock as she watched her cousin storm off and leave her standing there alone. Waving off her guards' concerns, she moved to the small seat and almost collapsed onto it. Her tears soon fell as Desmera's words began to take hold. Reaching into her pocket, Margaery took out the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. The words had struck a nerve and while she'd never considered herself to be selfish, or spoiled, yes, she couldn't lie and say that her actions didn't paint her in that light.

A chirp close to her ear took her attention and Margaery looked at the small sparrow as it landed on the chair. Its head tilted to one side and then the other as it seemed to look at her far more deeply and truly than a bird should before taking flight once more. Margaery felt its loss almost immediately and though she took a few moments to compose herself, she was far from it when she rose to her feet. As she was when Jon Stark suddenly appeared in front of her, alone and without his guards or the White Wolf that was ever by his side.

"My lady."

"Lord Jon."

To say he cut a dashing figure would be an understatement. Dressed all in black with his long hair worn loose and those dark grey eyes looking at her concernedly. Margaery found she was unable to speak any further words which only added to whatever concern Jon Stark had for seeing her in this state. He spoke not, however, simply waited for her to compose herself and once she did, Jon allowed Margaery to be the one to speak first.

"I…about the betrothal."

"Forgive me, my lady, I had thought you'd been aware of it. Had I known that you'd not, I'd have spoken to you in private first." Jon said and Margaery offered him a true smile at his words. Only for that smile to quickly leave her face when she realized that her grandmother had kept it from her.

"You made the offer some time ago?" Margaery asked.

"Some days ago, Aye."

"Before you sought my favor or after it?"

"After," Jon said sheepishly, and again a part of her welcomed that he'd sought her favor first, while another liked it not.

"Had I been aware…"

"Then you'd not have ... .forgive me, pray continue."

Where the resolve came from, she knew not. In front of her stood a truly handsome young man. Polite, respectful, and someone who at times stirred her heart like no other. There was something between them. A flicker of a flame that should it be allowed to take hold, would burn like an inferno. Yet, Margaery feared that flame and so she sought water to douse it before it spread.

"I have no wish to be married to a man against my will, Lord Jon. To be betrothed simply because it's what my family wishes for." Margaery began and seeing the look on Jon's face almost made her quieten her words and move to offer him whatever comfort she could.

It was a look that she couldn't quite give a name to. Sadness not doing it justice and watching as Jon Stark almost seemed to sag in on himself, took her aback. When he steadied himself as quickly as he did, Margaery was incredibly impressed. The look he aimed her way, however, was chilling and for the briefest moment, she felt some worry that he may lash out and strike her. Something it soon became very clear that he would never do. It did, however, allow her to finish her words and though she received no reply, she believed they'd been listened to.

"My lady," Jon said before turning, and as she watched him walk away, it took all she had in her to stop herself from calling him back. Margaery once again found herself collapsing onto the seat and this time the tears fell even more truly.

There was no sparrow to offer her comfort either and by the time she made her way back to her room, changed, and went to eat her luncheon, Jon Stark had left Highgarden. Her grandmother, father, and mother all asked her if she knew the reason and Margaery lied to each of their faces. To Loras' too when he almost marched her to his rooms and bid her speak of what she'd said to her friend.

"What did you do? Say?"

"I spoke not nor did nothing."

"You're lying, you forget I know you all too well, Sister. So speak the truth or so help me…"

"I told him I wished not to be wed. That is all. You know my feelings…"

"By the Seven, you truly are the most selfish, ungrateful…"

"Loras!"

"No, listen to me and listen to me well. This plan of yours to wed Joffrey Baratheon, I'll play no part in it, Margaery, none at all. I'll not forgive you for hurting my friend either, not for a long time if ever."

"I meant it not as that, Loras, I…"

"Care not for any other's feelings but your own. Thank the Seven I'm to leave this place, for I cannot bear to look at you."

"Leave, what do you mean leave? You can't leave…."

"I'm returning to the North, Margaery, by moon's end if I have my way. I wish you well with your prince and may the gods make you regret this day as much as you deserve to."

"I…I'm doing it for our family, Loras, to help us, can't you see that?"

"Yet our family need not nor want your help in seeing them Grow Strong. The only one who can't see that is you."

Loras left her alone and for the third time that day, Margaery found herself crying tears that took some time to stop. Her brother spoke to her not, other than by way of greeting when they ate that night. Desmera looked not her way and her cousin departed the next morning, as did the Starks. Margaery later found out that Loras was to serve as a sworn shield to Bethany Stark and that her grandmother had agreed for him to do so. Something which perplexed her.

Again she was asked had she said words to Jon Stark and again she denied that she had. Her grandmother bid her to join her in her solar and Margaery was left in no doubt that this was a match that pleased her greatly. It was one too that would not be allowed to be broken unless there was a good reason for doing so. Margaery knew now that only an offer from the prince would see her freed from a marriage she wished not for. Or one she was trying with all she had in her, to wish not for. Her dreams that night and for most of the nights to come, all ended up with her making her way to a white tree as snow fell gently around her.

"I take this man," she whispered into her pillow as in her dream she spoke the words for true.

Winterfell 295 AC.

Domeric Bolton.

The last fortnight had been interesting, to say the least, and Domeric did not truly know how to feel about the events that had taken place. His uncle and cousins had been on edge ever since they had learned about Jon's betrothal to Margaery Tyrell. Though Domeric knew that Beth and Bran weren't as surprised by the turn of events as Benjen, the fact that Jon didn't warn them while then doing so with Meera had vexed them greatly. The Crannogwoman had later paid for her loyalty to Jon by being banned from returning to Winterfell, yet Domeric knew it would not stand for long.

Jon's leaving for Starfall with Meera proved that he wasn't willing to let her be punished if he had a say in it. The suddenness of his departure after the betrothal announcement, however, had fueled rumors around the Lord of Winterfell, but neither the Starks nor the Tyrells had deigned to address them. Benjen had been too focused on preparing their journey back North to care about what was said about his nephew, though Domeric wondered if his uncle would have defended Jon's honor, given the hurt he'd experienced by his actions.

The Tyrells weren't faring much better either. Margaery seemed deeply affected by the announcement and not in a good way. Domeric knew from Loras that their cousin Desmera was attracted to Jon and wanted a match for herself, and it seemed the news of Margaery gaining it in her stead had caused a rift between them. As for Loras himself, while the idea of having Jon as a goodbrother had seemed to please him first, his sister's reaction, or lack thereof the next day, had driven the new knight almost to the verge of madness.

Domeric felt for his love who was torn between his allegiance to Jon and his love for his sister. Loras had never hidden his desire to see Margaery be wed to a good man, and if that said man could be one of his best friends it would be a bonus. Both he and Loras had been much surprised when they heard that Jon had asked for Margaery's hand himself, though their friend's action at the tourney should have given them a clue.

"I don't know what to do, what to think of Marge anymore." Loras lamented. "I cannot talk her through her obsession and now she's willing to ruin her chances of a good marriage to follow her ridiculous plans."

"Have you asked her why she was so set on wedding Prince Joffrey?"

"She said she wants it for our family, but I doubt it. Don't get me wrong, I know Grandmother and Father, I know they want to rise and regain the influence they had before the Rebellion. Growing Strong are our words after all."

"From what you told me about them, given the choice between Prince Joffrey or a mere Lord, they would go for the Prince as a match."

"Aye, but… The King keeps snubbing our House. He didn't even send a representative for the wedding."

"The Lannisters –"

"Lady Genna came on behalf of Lord Tywin. Grandmother had commented on that saying she didn't expect any less from the Baratheons."

"So, you believe your House made their peace with that situation if they accepted Jon's offer." Domeric deduced.

"I told you they wanted the match already. I had thought that Father agreeing to a betrothal would show Marge that neither he nor Grandmother care about having ties with the King, but she does not seem to care."

"She seemed pretty happy yesterday." Domeric chuckled.

"Which is what I don't understand. Either she's forcing herself to go through whatever terrible thing her mind had planned for no other reason but greed, or she's playing nice until she can stab Jon in the back to get to her Prince. Either way, I do not want to be part of her games."

"Talk to her. Do it before she does something damning for her family and mine own. My uncle won't have Margaery soil Jon's reputation."

"I… I don't know if I can right now."

"Take the time you need. Talk to her, mend your relationship with her, for you will feel naught but constant guilt if you part on bad terms with her." Domeric smiled, gently caressing Loras' cheek.

"We're truly going through with this?" Loras asked, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Aye. Beth is as stubborn, if not more so than Jon is. I believe she will give us no choice on the matter, so we might as well accept her decision."

"But Lord Benjen –"

"Will have to deal with another disappointment, I'm afraid." Domeric sighed.

"But you'll go for it?"

"Aye. I will not stand against Beth's choice if it is truly what she wants."

Loras' blinding smile was enough to quell all of Domeric's doubts about what they were about to do. He still felt it unfair on Beth's behalf that she would want to sacrifice her future so he could be happy, but his cousin had been resolute and unwilling to change her mind, a trait she might have in common with the rest of her family.

"When things calm down between Jon and Father, I'll ask them to allow us to wed," she stated as she sat on his bed while he packed his things in his chest.

"Beth, I –"

"I don't know why Jon thinks he is obligated to wed the Rose, but he told me the Tyrells wanted a match between Loras and myself." She cut him off.

"Which Uncle Benjen will never allow, now that Jon is betrothed to Margaery."

"He would have never agreed to it anyway, since I would have to live in Highgarden as all the women tied to the Tyrell men do. However, now that she will be coming North after she weds, it means she'll need someone she knows close to her, right? She'll probably ask for Loras to come with her?"

"By that time he will probably be betrothed already."

"Unless he gets a proposal to serve as a knight for a Lady of the North. One who will wish him to become her sworn shield and who he will have to follow wherever she goes."

"Beth –"

"I talked to Bran about it. He said he would support us. I also talked to Loras and I would have already asked him formally if it weren't for Jon and his stupid betrothal."

"What did Loras say?"

"He'll ask his Grandmother and wait for Father to agree to my request, but he is willing to do it and he misses Winterfell as much as we do him."

"You won't listen to my protest anyway, will you?" Domeric sighed, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the idea of being reunited with Loras in the North.

"I'm doing this as much for myself as I am for you. I won't have to leave the North after I wed, and I can stay with my kin. I don't want to part from either of you. Can you do me this favor?" she said with pleading eyes.

"What if –"

"We'll see when it happens." She cut him off. "It does not hurt to try. Just say the word and I'll talk to Father."

"We should talk to your mother first. She may help us soften Uncle Benjen's heart."

Beth's quick kiss on the cheek left him wondering how much pressure she had felt during that conversation. He then realized that she might have truly thought it through for the reasons she had stated. Domeric was conscious that her status as the only female from House Stark had weighed heavily on her, and her closeness to her family made her anxious at the idea of living away from them all. By marrying her, he would allow her to spend time with his Aunt and Uncle, cousin and brothers, as much as she wanted, whilst she would allow him to live close to his love.

They would still truly have to talk about the content of their agreement, but Domeric felt a weight lift from his shoulders as hope bloomed inside his chest.

For the first time in years, he dared dream about a promising future.

Highgarden/Oldtown 295 AC.

Jon Stark.

Two days and the words still resounded in his head. The argument he'd had with his uncle had been completely overshadowed by what Margaery had said to him and how it made him feel. Not that he was yet over the argument that he and Benjen had, however, far from it. Yet to be likened to Robert Baratheon, to find himself thinking of Margaery Tyrell how he thought of his mother, was more than he could bear.

His first instinct had been to go to Olenna and demand that she break the betrothal. Jon was prepared to offer her anything he had in his power to give if she would do so. A betrothal to her other granddaughter. Boons and rewards in the future. He'd have even given up more than one place on a future Small Council to see it done. Yet he knew that he could not or to be more precise, should not speak to the Queen of Thorns. Far better it came from Margaery first of all and truth be told, she wasn't the only one being forced into a wedding she wished for not.

'Yet out of the two of us, she has less say in the matter.'

So Jon had instead run away like a craven. He'd left his problems behind him and like a young boy who'd scraped his knee or was scared by the shadows at night, he sought out the one person who'd make him feel better. His mother.

They'd departed Highgarden that very same day and though originally they had intended to ride to Starfall, Jon keen to see where he'd been born, they instead took a river boat to Oldtown. The need to speak to his mother and to have her advise him what to do was now even more pressing than it had already been. A two-week journey now cut in half and yet it still felt too long to Jon as he spent much of his days and nights out on the deck of the large boat.

If things were calmer and he was simply traveling to visit his mother, as had been his intent before he'd found out what the Tyrells knew, then Jon would welcome the scenery of the Reach. He'd not deny it held a certain beauty and with the weather as temperate as it was, even the nights were pleasantly warm. Although Jon did miss the cold chill of the North very much as well. As he did, another who he felt would offer him much-needed council even if she may chastise and chide him for what he'd agreed to while doing so.

"I beg you understand my reasons, Aunt Bey," Jon said to the wind

The feel of fur against his hand brought a smile to his face. Ghost brushed up against him and Jon reached down to rub his hand through the soft white fur as he did so. His wolf had taken well to sailing down the Mander and Jon hoped he was just as comfortable when they took sail from Oldtown. As he did Meera if he was being honest, his closest friend liked not being on the water and would have much preferred that they'd ridden as they'd planned.

Taking a seat and welcoming Ghost resting his head on his lap, Jon once again tried to clear his mind of its troubled thoughts. He'd known that the marriage between him and Margaery was to be far more political than a love match. Had accepted that to be the case even despite words spoken to him by Meera, Loras, Bran, and even Beth. His closest friend, Margaery's brother, and his cousins were all convinced that there was some spark or other between Jon and Margaery. One that Jon had looked for and could not deny that he'd found from time to time.

"Fool that I was," he whispered.

Still, he'd hoped that they could at least find some happiness together. That just as his uncle and aunt had not been a match based on love, he and Margaery could in time mayhap find something to build on. To know that not only was there no true spark between them, at least on Margaery's part, put that idea completely to rest. While once again the words she spoke to him were ones that cut him far too deeply.

Did she know?

Was she using my mother against me?

Hoping that in doing so, I'd simply break the betrothal?

Olenna knew, as too did Lord Mace and Lady Alerie if what Meera said was true. Jon of all people knew that it was and that he could trust the words she'd spoken to him. There had been no mention of Loras, or his brothers, not that Jon could recollect. As for Margaery, Jon was almost certain she knew not. Almost. Closing his eyes he went looking for Ala only to quickly remember that the sparrow currently rested in his cabin.

"Jon." a voice called from behind him, Jon turned to see Ser Symon move his way.

"I'm well, Symon, truly." Jon lied.

The knight took no notice of his words and instead, he sat down a few feet from where Jon was sitting. Ser Symon faced him and Jon both hoping he'd speak some words of wisdom and yet wishing he'd leave him to seek his solace at the same time. For what felt like the longest time, it appeared it was to be the latter, only for Symon to speak words that quickly garnered Jon's attention.

"At times your father bore the same look on his face as you do now, Jon. He too would sit alone and seem to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. Those of us who knew him well would always hate to see him in those moments. Yet, none of us were equipped to change his mood or lighten the load he carried."

Looking at the knight and seeing the expression on his face, Jon recognized him more as Ser Richard Lonmouth than Ser Symon Lake at that moment. The truth of who his protector was had been long known to him. However, at times it seemed to Jon he was as much the one man as he was the other. Now, he was far more the other and so instead of the Leal and true protector who'd stood up for his mother and guarded Jon's back, it was the former squire of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen who spoke to him.

"Arthur would have more success than many. At times your grandmother would be able to speak words that brought a smile to your father's face. Yet, it was holding your brother and sister, it was being with your mother that was truly your father's peace."

"I'm not my father." Jon petulantly replied.

"No, just his son."

He felt the warm hand on his shoulder. Looked up into a pair of eyes that showed worry and concern and knowing that the knight felt that way, did lighten his mood a little.

"I thank you for your words, Ser Symon. Truly."

"A week at most, Jon. Less so should we be lucky enough to find a ship ready to sail, but a week at most. Think on that and let that warm your heart. For I know full well that in Starfall, your mother is counting down the days."

Jon offered the knight a full and true smile. While he didn't follow him when he walked down below deck, he did feel somewhat lighter because of their talk. Closing his eyes, he began to picture Starfall in his mind. The images came thick and fast and Jon welcomed them both from his mother's description of her home and the pictures he'd been sent of it. Yet it was the image of his mother that truly warmed his heart. That and the thoughts of seeing her again after so long apart gave him the strength to rise to his feet.

"I'll see you soon, Mother," Jon promised himself.

Over the next two days, Meera seemed to get over her aversion to sailing. Jon was most grateful for it as there would be two days at sea to come to take them to Starfall. He and Syrio practiced without swords on the deck of the ship and his fencing master spoke to him about the differences in fighting at sea or land.

"Sea or land it matters not when the god of death comes to call."

"Ser Symon says men shouldn't practice on a ship, that the waves make it too dangerous to do so," Jon said as he tried his best to match Syrio's movements.

"Which is why we learn to dance, White Wolf, lf, is it not?"

"And the waves?"

"Matter not to those who dance with water."

Jon found that if he kept his steps light, as light as Syrio always told him he should, then his fencing master was right, the waves mattered not. While the Westerosi or the North's fighting style would or could cause problems while on a ship, they were problems that some had found solutions for. The Iron Born reaved and attacked ships at sea. They used their experience in fighting battles atop the decks of ships to overwhelm those they fought against. So clearly it could be done and done well.

So assured did he feel he was becoming in three days of practice, that Jon began to incorporate parts of the ship itself into the dance he performed on its deck. He learned every piece of the ship that he could. Where a loose board may be, or a nail that hadn't been hammered in fully. What posts gave way when you pushed against them and which ones held firm and moved not. Jon even practiced using the rails of the ship to give his jumps and spins extra leverage. Something that pleased Syrio and cost Jon some worried looks from Ser Symon in the process.

"Well done, White Wolf," Syrio said after Jon had grabbed a hold of the large thin post and used it to perform a spin and so come around the other side of his fencing master.

It didn't earn him the win or even a point, Syrio was too good for that to be so, but it did garner him some praise from the man who'd taught him most about wielding a sword. A man who'd proved to every one of them in Highgarden's tourney that there was not a swordsman of his equal amongst them.

"Jon?" Meera asked worriedly, seeing his expression change.

"It's nothing." he lied.

The thoughts of the tourney had brought up other thoughts that he'd done his best to put to one side. Words spoken and those that were not, now preying on Jon's mind as he brought the lesson to an end. He was quiet and sullen for most of that day and would have spent his night alone with Ghost had they not arrived in Oldtown. A night now to be spent in a tavern and a morning visit to the Hightower soon what was being discussed.

"It's an impressive sight is it not?" Meera asked as they watched the Hightower come into view.

"Aye, almost as much as the Wall."

"Warmer I'd wager." Meera chuckled and Jon joined in.

"We have to make our presence known to Lord Hightower, it would not do to visit without doing so."

"As you say, my lord," Meera smirked.

"The Lady of the Crannogs would be just as welcome and mayhap more so since this is the Reach and the home of chivalry."

"Fuck off, Jon."

"Will you be wearing one of your pretty dresses, my lady? Should I help you fix up your hair?" Jon playfully teased his friend.

"Do you wish to be thrown overboard, Jon Stark, I've gotten my sea legs, I'm more than capable of doing so." Meera's frown and raised eyebrow belied the quirk in her lips that signified the beginnings of her smile.

"Aye, well I know it too," Jon said, bumping his shoulder against her own and earning himself her smile for doing so. "Come, while no one would ever force you to wear a dress against your will, we're both still wearing the same clothing we left Highgarden in, we had better make sure we have a change ready, and no doubt Ser Symon will insist we both bathe tonight."

"Aye, you have the right of it, very well I'll meet this Lord of the Tower so High if I must."

"You must, you must." Jon chuckled.

In truth, they'd bathed well while on the river. Though a true bath would be welcomed as too would a night in a room that didn't sway from side to side. As for meeting with Lord Hightower, it was not just for the now that made such a meeting important. Jon was well aware that in the future he'd need the support of as many Great Houses as he could bring to his side. So while the Reach answered to the Tyrells, it would not do him good to snub such an important lord if he wished to bring him to his side later.

Disembarking from the ship. Jon was surprised and yet not by how well-lit up Oldtown was. True there were some of the narrow wynds and alleys that were far too dark, but the main thoroughfares were almost bathed in light. As for the paths that led to the most important parts of the city, they were even more brightly lit. So much so that as Jon and those with him made their way to a tavern that Ser Symon knew, the Citadel, Starry Sept, and the Hightower itself were seen by them most clearly.

Had he more time and was he not so keen to be back at sea and on his way to Starfall, Jon would like to explore much more of this city. A visit to the Citadel or to the Starry Sept would be something he'd much enjoy. His gods may be those of the North, but should he actually sit his arse on the Iron Throne, then he'd need to know much about the Seven who are One too. Only the gods themselves knew what knowledge he could find at the Citadel and what books they may have there that covered his family's exploits.

"It would put Winterfell's library to shame no doubt'" Jon muttered.

Before too long they were in the tavern and though there was an issue with them allowing Ghost inside, coin was enough to get them to accept the white wolf. As it was to feed him too. Ghost much enjoying the large leg of elk that Jon purchased for him and lying down by the fire in his room to eat it happily. Sleep came easily and Jon dreamt only of his mother and the last time he saw her. The warmth of her embrace as she held him and the tears in her eyes as she said goodbye. Her words whispered in his ear that this was but a temporary parting and they'd be reunited one day, now taking on extra meaning in his dreams.

Upon waking the next morning, Jon welcomed the bath he took and allowed Meera to make japes at his expense as they broke their fast. He'd done so the day before and so it was only fair she had her turn today. Jon chuckled as Meera told all those at their table that he'd spent far more time on his hair than she had. Something that he'd wager was probably the truth. Not that Meera didn't care for her appearance, she was just simply comfortable with who she was. Jon, however, was still trying to be so and who he was, was still not yet who he was meant to be.

"Come, we mustn't keep Lord Hightower waiting, lest our Lord Stark needs fix his hair once more," Meera said, rising to her feet, the smile she wore was a true one and Jon was most happy to see it on her face.

His truest friend had taken what his uncle said badly. Jon when he'd found out had been wroth and only Meera's own words had stopped him from a much angrier argument with his uncle. Instead, it had been a hurtful one they'd shared and yet Jon felt that hurt was easier to remedy than anger. Or at least that's what he hoped. As for Meera, he had no wish for her to return to Greywater Watch and so she would be staying at Winterfell until her fostering was done. If he needed to overrule his uncle on it, then so be it. She'd held on to his secrets and adhered to his wishes, if someone deserved to be punished for such, then that someone was him. Something he'd told her and though she'd not yet promised to return with him, he had weeks, moons mayhap to see that was so.

It took them little time to walk to the Hightower and seeing it up close showed just how impressive it truly was. The interior, however, was a bit of a letdown Jon was sorry to say. Full of the riches and grandiosity of the House that named it their home, though it turned out to be. Its size and darkness made it lesser than Winterfell's and Highgarden's in Jon's view. Not that you could say the same about the Lord who sat on the largest chair in the middle of the raised dais.

Lord Leyton Hightower. The Beacon of the South. Defender of Oldtown. Defender of the Citadel. Lord of the Port. Lord of the Hightower. Lord of the Oldtown. Voice of Oldtown. The list of titles was long and impressive and the man who held those titles, though old and long past his best days, Lord Hightower was a firm and strong-looking man in Jon's eyes. He looked much like his son Ser Baelor, other than his age, and presently he was looking at Jon with a look of intrigue. Jon waited until the herald had finished reciting Lord Leyton's titles before he stepped forward to introduce himself and speak his own much lesser list.

"My name is Jon Stark, Lord Hightower. My companions are Lady Meera Reed of Greywater Watch and Ser Symon Lake of Dorne. As well Lady Reeds and mine own guards along with my fencing master Syrio Forel of Braavos." Jon said simply and to some fevered whispering.

"Hightower and its lord welcome you most truly Lord Stark. As we do you companions and your fencing master. Much has been heard of Syrio Forel and his winning of the tourney at Highgarden, recent though it was."

"My companions and I are most honored to be here, Lord Hightower."

"Much has been heard of you too, Lord Stark. Why I've even heard words spoken of a betrothal. Are those words true?" Lord Hightower asked and Jon almost bit his tongue as he should have known word would already have spread. Especially to Margaery's kin.

"They are my lord, I am most fortunate indeed to have been betrothed to Lady Margaery Tyrell."

"Then I welcome you even more so, Lord Stark, for as you may or may not know, Lady Margaery is my granddaughter and it most pleases me to know she's been matched so well."

"As it does me, my lord." Jon lied.

There were more pleasantries. Food was offered and though none of them were hungry, they had to be seen to accept and so they did. At one point, Lord Leyton bid them stay the night and only that Ser Symon had already booked their passage on the ship, Jon knew they'd have been forced to. Instead, he explained where they were going and why and it seemed to be enough for Lord Leyton to ask no further questions. On their plans at least, the Lord spent much of their time at the Hightower, judging Jon as best he could.

Ghost caused a bit of a stir and yet the Lord himself seemed most pleased to see a Direwolf in the flesh. Jon was more than happy to see Lord Leyton's interest directed away from him for once. Be it that he was to wed his granddaughter, if the wedding ever took place that was, or for some other reason, Lord Leyton spent much time looking at Jon far too keenly. So he was much relieved when the time came to say their goodbyes and though he needed to agree to come back to visit before the wedding took place, Jon was happy enough to do so.

By the time they set sail, Jon had long forgotten about his meeting with Lord Leyton, other than the fact that word had begun to spread of his and Margaery's betrothal. He wondered if his mother knew about it yet and hoped she did not. As he did his grandmother. While the thoughts that Robert Baratheon had heard did at least bring a half smile to his face. Standing on deck, watching the city fade from view behind him, Jon turned and looked only forward. Two days, three at most and they'd be docking at Starfall. He'd see his mother again. See his cousins, Allyria and Edric for the first time. Walk the halls where his uncle was born. The Daynes may not be his family by blood, but just like his mother, they would be by choice.

"I'll see you soon, mother." Jon smiled as he walked to his cabin, his thoughts only on the days to come and those recently passed, forgotten for now.

Winterfell 295 AC.

Lady Barbrey Stark.

Barbrey watched as the procession arrived and she did so with relief in her heart. Her family looked in good health and she was glad to see Benjen forego decorum to greet her with a kiss after first hugging their youngest son. She immediately felt his need to be with her, to lose himself in the throws of passion and forget everything that wasn't only them. It was a desire she shared with him and a necessity for them both, more so given the circumstances.

Jon's raven and his warning of what she should expect had been both welcomed and not. Barbrey knew full well how affected Benjen would be by this perceived betrayal and she wished Jon had waited until the end of his regency to make his move, though she felt her husband would never have accepted his decision anyway.

Even now she still remembered how tense Jon had been before he left and the long conversation they had with each other in the crypts.

"Why do you do that?" Jon had asked as she set a candle in front of Lyanna's statue.

"What?"

"You never hid the fact that you blame Mother for all that happened in the Rebellion, yet you still pay your respects to her whenever you come here."

"Because she's your mother. My goodsister."

"So you've forgiven her because she's family to you now?"

"The North Remembers, Jon." she'd answered instinctively. "I will never forget, but the past is already written. There's nothing we can do but move on, and I will not curse the mother of my nephew eternally, for I know it hurts him too much."

"I thank you for that, Aunt. I… I struggle a lot lately, to be honest."

"Care to share your thoughts with me?" she suggested.

"I… I don't know what to think of them, of me," he admitted. "I can feel the weight of their legacy on me and I don't know what to make of it. Wherever I look, my parents are not thought very highly of. Where people love my mother, they hate my father. While those who love my father, despise my mother."

"If it makes it any better, I dislike both of them." she half-joked.

"Aye, I know, you and Mother both." Jon chuckled. "I think I like it best, you know?"

Barbrey frowned, surprised by his answer.

"Because you love me fully, both of you." he continued. "Not because of who my parents are, since you hate them both. But even though you felt the need to protect me because of former bonds, I know you grew to love me as I am. That you will support me no matter what I choose, not simply because you feel obligated to. It does not make sense, does it?"

"It does and you're right. But your Uncle and your cousins love you all the same. Benjen is overprotective because of your mother, true, but he never felt any obligation to do so. As for your cousins, they don't know the truth, but they never hated you."

"Would they still love me if I make the wrong choices? Would you?" he asked, his grey eyes staring into hers with something akin to desperation.

"I believe you are smart enough to make the right choices and responsible enough to assume the consequences of any wrong ones you could make," she answered truthfully. "Whatever you decide, I will still love you and support you."

"Promise me, Aunt Bey. I need you to promise me this, for I think the months to come will be full of hard choices that only I can make."

"You're thinking of going for it, are you?"

"I'm afraid of not having any choice on the matter," he confessed, making her frown.

She wanted to press for answers, but she realized she could not. Jon trusted her enough to open himself to her, a thing he rarely did lately, and she could not risk him closing his thoughts because of her curiosity and worries. Standing before her was not the confident Jon she was used to seeing during meetings or in front of the Lords. Instead, she was transported back years earlier, after she'd learned of his truth. Back to the days when the waddling boy had offered her his egg to console her.

"I stand by my word, Jon. I promise to stand by your side, whatever you decide."

The hug she had received was full of warmth and she realized at that moment how grown Jon was, as she was almost engulfed in it. Barbrey was a tall woman, around 5 feet and 11 inches, almost as tall as her husband. To see her nephew and her son almost reaching her height while not yet fully grown had made her heart clench with nostalgia. She could still well remember holding Jon and Bran in her arms, watching them take their first steps, do their first pranks, and receive their first punishments.

Now one of them was promised to someone and the other would not take long to follow in his cousin's footsteps.

"You know what happened?" Benjen asked as he held her in his arms after their intimate reunion.

"Aye, Jon sent me word of it."

"I don't know what to think of it," Benjen admitted, to her surprise. "I was furious at first. I still am. But as days go by, the more I feel I pushed him to act this way by not listening to his worries and by being opposed to any discussion about betrothals."

"You refused any talks of a union with the Tyrells because of his grandmother." Barbrey pointed out.

"Still, he didn't have to agree to a betrothal behind our backs."

"Would you have agreed to it, even if he'd told you that he truly wished for it?" She asked and felt him tense. "Do not get me wrong, Benjen. I do not condone his actions. He should have brought you to their meeting or at least informed you right after he was done."

"He said in his letter that I would have convinced him not to do so." Benjensaid, looking visibly conflicted about the whole ordeal.

"So he didn't want to appear weak before Olenna Tyrell. He may have felt he had no choice but to do so by himself."

"I failed him, Bey. I failed to protect him as an uncle and a regent. I should have thought about another way to placate the Tyrells should they become aware of Jon's truth."

"'Tis not about you being a bad regent, my love. 'Tis about Jon trying to get some control over his life."

"He's opening himself to the dangers –"

"We're all aware of the dangers he's about to face. We've prepared for the eventuality of war with Robert Baratheon, and if the Tyrells know, then it's the right thing to make sure they are brought to our side."

"So you agree with him? You want him to go for it?" Barbrey could feel the hurt in Benjen's voice.

"I would never force it on him. Remember all the nightmares he still has from time to time. The ones about losing one of us and how determined he is every time he wakes not to let this happen." she said and felt him once again tense against her. "It seems he feels this is the only solution to protect our family and we said we'd always support him. So… Support him we shall."

"Aye, I told Olenna that much at least. That and that we need to make Margaery Tyrell a suitable bride for Jon."

"That would be something short of a miracle." she snorted.

"She was quite friendly with the younglings, especially Beth." Benjen surprised her once again. "She loved the attention Jon gave her and being crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by him."

"Wait. Jon competed in the tourney? And he won?" Barbrey gasped.

"Oh, that…"

"That's all you have to say about it? The little sod disobeyed you and –" she exclaimed, pushing him away.

"Now you're getting angry? When you didn't throw a fit when I told you Jon got betrothed behind my back?" Benjen chuckled.

"That's different!" she protested. "He could have been hurt! That little –"

"Your son and other nephew were in on it," Benjen said, and it took all his might for her not to leave the bed this instant. "You'll have words with them later. Now, I believe we have more pressing things to settle."

"Using your charms for me to go easy on them, are you?"

"Just wanting to enjoy some time with my dear wife." he retorted, the kiss following his words leaving no doubts as to how truthful he was at that moment, and Barbrey would be a liar if she said she wasn't aroused by his touch.

The children sulked as they were all assigned punishments for helping Jon in his plot to list in the tourneys. While Brandon and Domeric gave her good reasons for them to support their kin and friend, she could feel the resentment they felt at him not being here to take responsibility for his actions.

"Do not worry about it. He'll get his comeuppance when he comes back."

"If the little sod does come back," Bran mumbled.

"Why wouldn't he? You know he's a man of his word."

"After what went on between Father and Jon, I would not hold it against him if he preferred staying in Starfall for as long as he could. Though I would hate him all the same for doing so."

"Mayhaps it'll take more time for him to find his way North. He has a need too to get to know his new betrothed." she pointed out, earning a scoff from her son. "However Jon knows he has a duty to the North, and he will not abandon us even if he is not on good terms with your Father."

Bran nodded distractedly, making Barbrey frown.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" she insisted.

"No, I… When Jon left, he told me to focus on my studies and to help rule the keep. I didn't respond to him, but now that I think of it, it was as if… He would not come back."

"Have you so little faith in your cousin to think that he would truly abandon his people? His family?"

"I've never seen him like this, Mother." Bran retorted. "Jon has never acted this rashly. This thing with the Tyrells… His leaving without a word to Father… There's something wrong here, something I cannot understand and that vexes me greatly."

"Send a letter to Jon, then. Tell him what bothers you. That you worry about him leaving Winterfell to you. I don't think this is the case, but I would, however, encourage you to do as he said, for you will soon have a keep on your own."

"Aye, Father told me that the Moat has finished their repairs."

"You're not of age yet. You still have time to go there, Son." Barbrey said, feeling her son's worry echoing her own.

"I'm ready to be a lord. Not to leave your side." Brandon confessed, prompting the woman to kiss his cheek gently.

"If it reassures you, you'll still be my reckless cub, no matter what." she teased him.

Truth was she was not ready to let him go either. Life in Winterfell was comfortable, mayhaps too comfortable for someone living in the North. Barbrey had tried her best not to shelter her children from the harshness of life outside the walls of the keep, yet as a mother she felt compelled to do so sometimes. She had been blessed with more time with her family than she had thought she would, thanks to Jon being the Lord of Winterfell and the youngsters fostering there instead of being scattered throughout the North. Though the idea of being apart from her sons, daughter, and nephew in a few years terrified her, it did less so than the specter of the looming war on the horizon.

Jon being betrothed now set a lot of things in motion, whether they liked it or not. His future marriage with Margaery Tyrell would probably prompt the Targaryens to show more aggression toward the Crown. Barbrey did not think they would be the first to attack, as doing so would not work in Jon's favor. Rhaella Targaryen would try, however, to goad Robert into launching the hostilities, or so Barbrey believed, for she would do the same if she was in her stead.

Barbrey was, in a way, in the same position as Rhaella Targaryen. She too plotted so that Jon would get safely to his goal while making sure to paint him in a good light to avoid any uprising against him. Not that she would ever admit such a thing to the Dragon Queen's face.

They would now need to be even more cautious in their dealings with those in Essos. As much as Barbrey hated the idea, they would have to stop working around Rhaella Targaryen and her husband and instead, work more directly with them.

She would need to have a word with her father regarding her brothers' future soon as well. Neither of them were betrothed yet and Barbrey suspected that his father was waiting for Jon and Brandon to move first before then tying his sons to any available lady in the North. Rodrick had hoped that Brandon would become the Lord of Winterfell ever since he'd learned of Jon's truth and had never hidden his ambition. Now that he was about to get his heart's desire, Barbrey doubted he would put up a fight with her choices for her brother's prospects.

An Umber and a Flint should do for Roger and Rickard, one of Glover's granddaughters for Roose. They were already tied to the Boltons thanks to Domeric. The Manderlys and the Mormonts would follow Brandon without reservation, their loyalty undisputed from having won boons thanks to Jon and Benjen. For her son, Alys Karstark would have been the better choice had it not been for the Hornwoods getting there ahead of them.

Still, Barbrey would talk to Brandon and give him the choice between the most suitable ladies. She would go with her son's choice, praying all the while that he would make the right one, and then she'd present the rest to her father.

But first, there was something she needed to do regarding her other nephew.

She had noticed ever since they'd come back the little glances that Domeric and Beth shared. The small head gestures her little girl threw her way while looking at him and the panicked look in Domeric's eyes at her doing so had made Barbrey smirk as neither of them was as discreet as they believed they were. Yet she wanted them to come to her rather than to be the one to go to them. However, the Gods it seemed had no time for them to play such games as Benjen had since received a raven for Roose Bolton asking for his son to come home.

Domeric was fidgeting in her solar after she summoned him from the Godswood and she could sense his unease grow as the silence between them stretched on.

"Your Father will want a match for you after Jon's betrothal. One he feels worthy of you. I believe you know that already."

"Aye, Aunt. I know."

"Have I ever told you about my previous marriage?" She asked and smiled when she saw him perk at her words. "Willam was one of the kindest men I've ever met. One I was proud to call a friend and even more so a husband. You make me think of him."

"Me?"

"He was… Different from most. Not in a bad way, mind you. He just doesn't have the same interest in courting ladies and going to brothels as most of his friends did." she said, thinking fondly about her time with her former husband.

"Is that why you married him?"

"I did and because I was in love with someone else. Someone I could not be with, for he was already betrothed," she answered and Domeric gasped. "It was no secret that I was infatuated with Brandon Stark. When your Grandfather heard about his betrothal to Catelyn Tully, he was furious. He feared no one would want me and had it not been for Willam, it might have been the case. So Willam then suggested we get married because his father pressured him into choosing a wife, whilst I needed someone to accept me even though I was ruined. All in all, it was the best outcome for both of us. He was content with me being his truest friend, and he gave me leave to meet with my forbidden love."

"Grandfather knew about this?" Domeric frowned.

"Politics and saving face was all that mattered to your grandfather, nephew. What happened in Barrowtown stayed in Barrowtown. Our arrangement didn't last long, since Brandon traveled South and then met his demise five moons after our wedding. Your Grandfather was happy enough to see me married, even though he knew there would be no children issued from our union."

"Because you were in love with Brandon Stark?"

"Because my husband, bless his heart, though he was a Northman in attitude, loud, brash, and bawdy, was not one to seek a woman's embrace." she smiled, seeing him blush. "All of his friends knew, and I suspect most understood our arrangement by the time he left for the war. None, however, commented on it nor did they or would they, soil his memory."

"It's a relief to think his friends never thought of him differently. Not that you would have let this happen, knowing you."

"Aye, I would have done anything for him. Just as Beth is willing to do the same for you."

"You noticed."

"I did. My Beth is a free spirit. She may not feel suited to fall in love one day, but she might. All I ask of you is to give her as much liberty as she would you should this moment ever come."

"You have my word, aunt. I will always do my best to make Beth happy!" Domeric quickly exclaimed.

"I know you will. You have your mother's heart, and she was devoted to her family."

"I… I do not remember her, but I trust you in your assessment, Aunt."

"She would have been proud to name you her son. As I am to call you my Nephew," she said truthfully.

The hug she received was comforting and full of gratitude, reminding Barbrey of her last interaction with Jon. Her two nephews were different, yet so similar in their desire to do the right thing at any cost.

"Do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything for you, Aunt."

"Don't tell your cousins about our conversation. I want to see how my children will come to me. I am certain Beth has recruited her older brother to convince me about the match."

"You're still punishing them for the Mystery Knight, are you?" he asked.

"They will not get away with that so easily, and neither will you if you do not keep your mouth shut."

"I have no desire to get on your bad side." Domeric chuckled.

"Good lad."

It may not have been how she planned or wished for the betrothals to come. Yet Barbrey was well aware that it was the way of the world they lived in. Politics as much as anything decided your match when you were the son or daughter of Great Houses and her children, her nephews, were very much the epitome of that. Beth it seemed had made her choice and Barbrey was so very proud of her little girl for doing so all on her own. Domeric's interests lay in another direction and her daughter's actions would see her nephew know his own joy, while Barbrey did not doubt that her nephew would ensure Beth knew hers. Brandon would at least get to decide the whom, if not the fact of his future marriage. As for Jon, her nephew had the largest legacy of all to live up to, the greatest burden any of them would ever need to take on his young shoulders. Barbrey, had she her way, would see him have that burden shared with a woman who loved him as truly as he deserved to be loved.

'Yet, he too chose and all I can do is what I've promised.' she thought as she wrote out the two ravens. One of them to be sent to Starfall and the other to Highgarden. Words of support to her nephew and an offer to the Queen of Thorns regarding the girl who was to one day be his wife.

A/N: I've had so much trouble with this site this past few months, I almost gave up on it, it simply wouldn't let me upload and at times even log in. Anyway, enough of my whining, things seem to be working for me again and so I'm going to spend the next few days uploading all the chapters I've not had a chance to do here as of yet. This is the first of three or four for this story and Aemon The Dragonknight, Revenge is a Dish, Dragonverse and Dragonwolf Danced will all be uploaded this week too.

Once I've gotten things back up to date, I'll then go back to answering reviews, for now, I'll worry about updating.