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.

21. The Storm Bites Back

Storm's End 296 AC,

Theon Greyjoy.

Theon had never understood all the fuss people made regarding tourneys. He had always been refused leave to participate in any until then and while he understood the principle of a melee, he found the jousts and the training for them utterly ridiculous.

There was no way that a bunch of men mounted on horses would agree to face each other this way in a true war. The mere idea of them riding with those weird lances or whatever other chivalrous shite they believed in was enough to tell him that they understood not the nature of war. It was almost enough to make him laugh. Until he remembered these very Greenlanders had beaten his people and that defeat had led to his life as a hostage.

Yet, it seemed the Greenlanders much enjoyed their silly little games, so he rolled his eyes as he heard Cassana Baratheon and her accompaniment marveling about the outcome of the upcoming day. The young girls giggled and laughed as they spoke the names of their favorites out loud.

Joffrey Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, Beric Dondarrion, Robar Royce… Names of potential winners were thrown around carelessly as if it truly mattered. Yet none was thrown around or more uttered than Jon Stark's. The future Warden of the North had won much favor with his actions in Highgarden or so it seemed to Theon.

"He disguised himself as a mystery knight and won the joust with Margaery Tyrell's favor before then crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty and asking for her hand in marriage." Cassana sighed dreamily. "This is so romantic!"

"Did she know who he was beforehand?" Jeyne asked.

"No, she swore she didn't."

"So she gave her favor to a complete stranger against her own brother?"

"Her brother had another lady's favor already. I may not like her but I would have done the same." Cassana retorted.

"Will you give another your favor if Prince Joffrey doesn't ask it of you?" Jeyne asked, and it took all his energy for Theon not to laugh at the other girl's troubled face.

"Uncle Renly said he would ask it of me if this happened, but I'm still hopeful…"

He tuned out the conversation, focusing instead on the boy breaking his fast in front of him. Jon Stark was younger than him, yet something was commanding in the lad's presence that almost impressed Theon.

"You are Theon Greyjoy." he had told him the night he arrived.

"And you must be the Stark boy. You look like your uncle." Theon spat.

"Aye, people say so to me all the time. You, however, look nothing like your sister." Jon said with a smirk, making the prisoner tense.

"How is Asha?" Theon's voice wavered as he spoke his sister's name.

"As defiant as she can be without risking her life. Do they treat you well here?"

"As well as you can see," he snorted.

"I tend not to believe what they show in the South. Appearances can be deceiving." the Lord of Winterfell stated, making Theon frown.

"Isn't your mother from the South?"

"Aye, which is how and why I learned not to trust anyone blindly."

"As if you're better than them. You're a Greenlander still."

"True, but I would wager your sister is happier in our keep than you here. We are true friends, you know?" Jon said and Theon scoffed. "You don't believe me. Fair enough."

"Why should I?"

"I suppose they don't let you write to your family."

"I'm a hostage," Theon replied matter of factly.

"We took it to be so when we didn't get a response to any of Asha's letters."

"She wrote to me? Asha?" he repeated, surprised.

"She did, as did your mother I believe."

"You're lying," Theon growled, feeling suspicious.

"Why would I lie? What do I have to gain by doing so?" Jon shrugged.

"I don't know. Mayhaps this is just a twisted way to test me."

"What for?"

"You're the one doing it. How should I know?" Theon retorted, his annoyance clear in the way he responded.

"Right. Well, I swear to you on the Old Gods and the New that I am not lying. Do what you want with that."

Jon Stark had then left as he'd arrived, leaving Theon in a state of emotional turmoil. The Ironborn had thought himself alone, abandoned by his family to rot in Storm's End, only to learn that he had purposefully been kept apart from them. It changed not how he felt, yet his heart felt less heavy knowing Asha at least didn't forget about him.

The encounter shook Theon to his core and he struggled to keep up the same façade he used to show permanently. Thankfully, no one paid any attention to him, apart from the Onion Knight or his eldest son, but none of them insisted upon doing so after he brushed them away when they approached him about his strange attitude.

He dearly wanted to ask about the correspondence, but he could not. Stannis Baratheon was a mirthless man who had no time to spare for someone like Theon unless it was to scold him or humiliate him and make him remember his place. Lady Catelyn, however, was the worst, and judging by what he'd heard the servants talk about during the tourney, had done everything in her power not to have to deal with the North and Winterfell. Her hatred for Jon Stark was known even to Theon, who steered clear of the arrogant lady most of the time.

Theon thought about asking Ser Davos but quickly decided against it. The knight would not lie to him, but Theon doubted he was close enough to Stannis to know everything about the Lord's secrets, and it would raise many questions about how Theon knew about them.

'Davos doesn't even know how to read. What care would he have to know if a letter arrived for me?' he thought to himself.

Standing on the outskirts of the sparring yard, Theon observed the Lords and knights who would compete in this mummery of war, his eyes being drawn on Jon Stark more than once. Contrary to the other jousting participants and what Theon would imagine, the Lord of Winterfell and his friend, the new Knight of Flowers, spent their time japing together and not showing off their skills. Training with their respective mentors and not with the lance, as Prince Joffrey did with his. Though, unlike the prince, Theon could feel they were not giving their all and merely kept to their pace.

Joffrey was out to impress, or so it seemed. Theon hated the little shit, as well as the rest of his family. The spoiled brat was the epitome of everything he'd heard about House Lannister, from the coloring of his hair to the condescending attitude. Theon had heard rumors too about how frustrated the prince was that unlike all of his cousins and bastard brother, he didn't get the famed Baratheon looks. He now tried to compensate for the lack of resemblance to his father by trying his best to earn the King's approval.

Joffrey Baratheon was a show-off, wanting to make the world see how important he was, from how he dressed to the armor he wore while training. Everything he wore was covered in gold, no matter whether or not he sported his maternal or paternal side colors. Not that it made a difference in the end, as even the way he dressed set him aside from his father's simple approach. Robert Baratheon was not someone Theon held favorably in his heart. There was no one he hated more than the fat King of the Seven Kingdoms for what he did to him. Yet Theon had to admit that the man had paid the Iron Price to get where he was, a price that Joffrey had not paid yet. One that Theon doubted he had it in him to pay.

"So, they're using you to clean the sparring yard, now? It seems your status greatly improved from the last time I saw you." Joffrey sneered, making Theon tense. The girl next to the prince did likewise and it allowed Theon to not see her as the young beauty he'd named her as thus far. Margaery Tyrell would make someone a fine Salt Wife one day, though it would never be someone like him she'd be wed to.

Don't answer… Do not fall into his game…

"Too bad you can't participate in the jousts. I would have enjoyed crushing you as my Father did yours." the prince insisted.

"My prince, mayhaps we should –"

"Are you afraid, my Lady? I promise you this Squid is not dangerous. His tentacles have long been torn from him. He knows his place and what he risks should he try something against one of his betters." Joffrey declared one hand on her shoulder while the other grabbed her hip, bringing her closer to him.

"What are you –" Margaery Tyrell said, frowning as if confused by the grand gesture.

"Fear not, Margaery. I would protect you from him should he try anyway. You are, after all, one of the most important persons here in this tourney."

"I… Thank you, Your Grace." she sighed, making Theon frown in turn.

Was she not enjoying the attention given to her? Joffrey was acting as his father and all women, may they be noble or servants, were known to swoon before the King. The young lad might not be as charismatic as Robert Baratheon was, but he was still a prince of the realm.

"I think you're the one making the Lady uncomfortable, my prince," Theon said, prompting Margaery to look at him with something akin to relief.

"Nonsense. There's nowhere she would be safer than by my side." Joffrey retorted.

"Aye. Mayhaps she would prefer her betrothed's protection. Jon Stark may be of the North, but he truly does know how to sweep ladies off their feet." Theon smirked.

"Come, let us not waste time with this Squid scum." Joffrey spat.

"My prince, Lady Tyrell. Send my regards to Lord Jon. I've placed my wager on him to win it all." Theon said, bowing his head and enjoying the look of anger in Joffrey's eyes.

Turning to walk away, Theon glanced at the other side of the yard, where Stark and his friends were. A chill went down his spine as a cold glare almost pinned him in place, Jon Stark's grey eyes looking like two blocks of ice. It took Theon a moment to realize the stare wasn't aimed toward him but at the two retreating figures behind him.

"Don't let him get to you, Stark. That's exactly what he wants," he said as he closed the distance between him and the Lord of Winterfell, against his better judgment.

"I'll keep that in mind, Greyjoy." the Northerner replied with a bow of his head.

"I would however talk to that betrothed of yours if I were you. It will do her no good to spend time with this princely fucker other than make people question her virtue."

"Are you implying something about my sister?" the Knight of Flowers retorted.

"You know what they say, like Father, like Son."

"Margaery would never –" Theon interrupted before Loras could finish the sentence.

"But Joffrey would. Best be cautious about it, I don't think Lord Stannis is ready to host another Storm in his keep."

Loras Tyrell seemed ready to attack him for his statement, proving to Theon that they were not different from the rest of the Lords he had rubbed shoulders with, only to be stopped by Jon Stark's hand on his shoulder.

"So much like Asha he is, isn't he? I bet that temperament of yours got you in trouble more than once." the Northerner chuckled.

"What can I say, I enjoy getting on other people's nerves." Theon shrugged.

"I see. I thank you for the warning and I'll talk to my sister, then." Loras said, shaking his head as he walked away.

"He too is your sister's friend, believe it or not," Stark said to his surprise.

"Ha! Now I know you're lying. Asha would never let the Flower anywhere near her."

"She had no choice at first, to be honest. But now, she is well-liked in the North. Yet, I don't think anyone would have predicted this outcome."

"She's an Ironborn. You hate our kin." Theon accused.

"We may hate the Ironborn for their crimes, but in the North, we judge a person not by their upbringing, but by the truth of their actions."

"I don't believe in your tall tales, Stark. You're no better than the rest of them."

"No, but I hope I will be one day." Jon Stark said with a sincerity that took Theon aback.

Someone must have told on him later on, for Theon soon found himself in Lord Stannis' solar, answering for his attitude towards the Prince and Lord Stark.

"You are not to bother any guests during the tourney." the Lord of Storm's End reminded him. "We are generous enough to let you out of your rooms –"

"Generous? You want to show I'm still alive, that's all." Theon scoffed.

"Do you want to be confined there instead? I honestly do not care whether or not you are and I don't think my brother does either."

"Does what I want truly matter? In the end, you'll do as you please."

"True, and now you're testing my patience. Catelyn said you spent a lot of time talking to Jon Stark."

So it was her, Theon thought bitterly.

"She finds it suspicious –"

"He asked me why I haven't answered Asha's letters," Theon interjected, making Stannis tense. "Did my sister send letters, my Lord?"

"Letters are a luxury a prisoner cannot expect for." was the only answer he received.

"I see."

Theon didn't listen to the rest of Stannis' orders, as he tried his best not to unleash the rage boiling inside of him. For nearly seven years he had thought his family did not care about his fate. Thoughts of throwing himself from Durran's Point so he could die in the sea, where he was supposed to be, constantly tugged at his mind. The thought of inflicting more pain on his mother, who had lost so much and had been the only one crying for him when he left Pyke, was the only thing holding him back.

I can't even remember her face…

At least Asha had it easier than him, or so it seemed. How she did it was unknown to him and he feared the answer to that question. Somehow she had managed to make her captors either take pity on her or appreciate her enough to let her have a bond with their mother and to try and maintain one with him.

Would that he could do so…

Truthfully Theon did not know what to think of all that he'd learned. All he wanted at that moment was to learn more about Asha's life in Winterfell, and if she and their mother were safe and well.

He was wary of Jon Stark and didn't know if he could trust the boy, but so far this one Greenlander had been the only one who had been straightforward with him and not in a condescending way. Part of him knew that Jon would tell him things should he ask them of him, but he had to be very careful about the way he approached the lord of Winterfell now that he knew the Fishwife was on his case.

"What to do… What to do? Fucking Baratheons always make my life complicated." he rambled, pacing inside his room in the dark, for he had been given one in a windowless part of the keep so that he would not ever consider trying to escape.

Theon was still lost deep in his thoughts the next day, having no appetite nor any desire to watch the melee he had once been so curious about. He already knew who the winner would be, no one would ever be a true match for the Mountain that Rides, and the Baratheons had stripped him of the little amusement he could have found with their actions. Moreover, he did not want to give them any ammunition for a potential punishment should he be spotted talking to Stark. Instead, he would stay put that day, give them a false sense of comfort by complying with the Fishwife's silly demand, and find a way to get to his goal before the Northerner's departure.

Or so he thought, for it seemed the White Wolf had other plans for him.

Theon was surprised to hear someone knock on his door that night. He wasn't planning on bedding any of the servants, nor would they take the risk of being found out during an event of this import. Hesitantly, he walked toward the door, frowning as he was made to face Loras Tyrell.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, checking around the hall to see if the boy was alone.

"Jon doesn't want to put you in more trouble by coming himself, so he asked me to do so on his behalf."

"How does he know I'm in trouble?" Theon asked, confused.

"If there's one thing I learned with Jon, it's never to question the things he knows." Loras chuckled.

"How did you know where I would be? Did you spy on me?"

"I would never. Jon told me where to find you."

"What in the seven hells does he want from me?" Theon asked defensively, his confusion deepening when Loras handed him a letter.

"From Asha." Loras simply said, making him gasp.

"How…"

"Does it matter? Hurry and take it so we don't get caught." Loras pressed, looking annoyed.

"I… Thank you." he relented as he grabbed the letter, his hand shaking from the overwhelming emotions he felt at that moment.

"I'm doing this for her sake, not for yours. Though I do feel sorry that you must stay here."

"I don't need your pity, Greenlander." Theon spat.

"Jon's right, you and your sister are so alike." Loras sighed before turning away, leaving Theon in a state of stupor.

There were so many questions going through his head.

Was it truly a letter from his sister?

How did Jon Stark get it, since Theon knew the lad was not in Winterfell?

Why did Loras Tyrell, out of all people, come to him, instead of one of Jon Stark's guards?

There was something strange about all this, something Theon couldn't figure out. Yet as he stared at the letter in his hand, he decided to let his musings about the Northerner go. The missive felt heavier as time passed, and he couldn't find the resolve within himself to open it.

Get a grip, Theon. You're an Ironborn. What is dead may never die. 'Tis just a letter. A letter will not kill you.

Excitement and fear battled in his heart the rest of the night, so much so that dawn crept upon him without realizing it. He put the letter away for now and got ready for the day, praying that the promised spectacle of the jousts would at least cheer him up. Looking forward too to seeing a princely pain in his arse knocked on his own.

Storm's End 296 AC,

Renly Baratheon.

For years he had been training, preparing himself for the moment he would be able to prove himself to his brothers. Only for his little shit of a nephew to come and ruin all his efforts.

Renly wasn't an idiot. He knew from the way Robert reacted when he learned that the Lord of Dragonstone would enlist that the king didn't believe he would win. Stannis, surprisingly, had been the one to comfort him when Renly couldn't hide his disappointment at Robert's dismissal. The two of them had bonded somewhat over Robert's reticence and dismissive attitude.

"Do not take it personally, Brother. Robert is not very supportive of anyone apart from himself."

"Was he always this way?"

"Aye, as far as I remember. He always made things difficult between us, either by wagering against me or belittling my achievements. I had wished he would not do the same to you, but it seems my prayers have not been heard, once again." Stannis sighed.

"I remember him being friendly and cheerful." Renly pointed out.

"Oh, he is. When things go his way, there's no person as friendly as our elder brother. But things hardly go his way lately." Stannis said, his little smirk showing the youngest he was not sad about it.

"Yet, to say I'm wasting my time enlisting in the jousts…"

"Do not mind him, Renly. He hasn't been riding in tourneys for years, so I would not take his opinion to heart. Do your best and show him that you also can bring fury to your opponents." Stannis said, tapping his shoulder.

"Do you think I can win?" Renly asked, feeling his insecurities come up.

"I hope you do so. Cassana would be most happy to be crowned by her uncle."

"Then I shall do my best."

"That is all I ask, brother."

Until Joffrey's announcement, Renly had been pretty confident about his abilities and the way he would represent his House. He had been ready to face Robert's Kingsguard head-on, almost willing to do so with flying colors so he would make Robert regret not believing in him.

Renly had never been particularly close with any of his brothers, having to live in Dragonstone alone for years didn't truly allow it. He had grown to resent them for sending him there, though he knew Robert had been the one to name him Lord. The damnable thing was that he had been content in Storm's End and hadn't wished to move into that sordid Targaryen holdfast. He had pleaded with Stannis not to force him away, yet his older brother had claimed it was his duty as Robert's kin to do as he was told.

So he had felt completely abandoned and isolated in that dreadful place, with no one of youth around and no friend willing to join him on the island. If it weren't for Maester Cressen and the Blackberry brothers' lessons, Renly would have probably thrown himself from the Stone Drum. Though the Maester had soon returned to his brother's side and Maester Jurne was a much different sort.

There was nothing to do in Dragonstone apart from sparring, so Renly fought day and night to forget his boredom and found himself good at it. He was not tutored by a Kingsguard or a known knight, yet he knew from the time he spent in his brother's keep that he could hold his own facing other knights and young lordlings. Renly may not be the Demon of the Trident come again, but he was as capable as any and far better than most, or so he believed.

Stannis still always welcomed him home, for that was what Storm's End felt to Renly, and he grew to enjoy spending time there with that side of the family. Catelyn was nice enough to him, though he couldn't say he didn't wonder if she was showing her true self with him or if the cold and unforgiving person she was when faced with his bastard nephew was her real personality. Cassana was a sweet girl, too sweet for her own good, with dreams of pageantry and chivalry nurtured by her mother, yet Renly couldn't bring himself to burst his niece's bubble for now. As for Steffon, Renly could see glimpses of a future knight in the boy. Stannis' children truly represented their house, as much in looks as they did in spirit, which was more than Renly could say about those living in the Red Keep.

To say that his relationship with Cersei and her children was non-existent would be an understatement. The Queen had made it clear she didn't want any of her children to form a bond with their paternal side long ago, and Joffrey's attitude towards his uncle solidified the latter's desire to stay away from them. Renly hadn't been to the Red Keep in years, not that he didn't like the place nor enjoyed the way people other than his family treated him because of his status.

After all, everything and anything was better than staying on Dragonstone.

But Robert's lack of enthusiasm when Renly was around, as well as Cersei's despicable attitude had pushed Renly to spend more time with his other brother's family. Time he would have looked forward to during this tourney if it wasn't that he had to forbear the other side too.

"Nice outfit, Uncle! As colorful as I expected!" Joffrey's voice rang behind him, making him clench his teeth.

Turning around, he was surprised to see his nephew's armor. The coloring was not something he'd expected.

"I must say I'm pleasantly surprised to see you wear our House's colors, Nephew."

"I don't see why you are. I'm representing my Father, after all."

"True, but your mother's colors always suit you better." Renly japed, smirking as Joffrey's own disappeared. "I wish you good fortune in your upcoming tilt, Nephew."

"See, that is what makes us so different. I do not need your well wishes."

"Of course you don't think you need luck, seeing as your father ordered the Kingsguard not to compete so that you can have a slim chance of advancing to the next round. What does it say about your skills, then?"

"He did so, for he knew that I may end up hurting them. As I might do to you if our paths cross." Joffrey sneered.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Wishful thinking and good fortune are something untalented people need to win, Uncle. So I bid you good fortune. You need it after all." Joffrey spat and Renly felt his anger grow.

However, he would not give Joffrey the satisfaction of seeing him upset. The brat reveled in making those close to him suffer, and only the perspective of seeing the snarky prince be humbled, preferably by Renly himself, made him bite back his remarks.

Renly took a look at the rest of the competition. All of them he had watched in other tourneys, apart from his nephew, the New Knight of Flowers, and the Lord of Winterfell. The last two were rumored to be good, though Renly would need more than words from the Oaf of Highgarden who tended to exaggerate things to his advantage.

Jon Stark was very much how he expected a Northman to be. He only saw Ned Stark once or twice in his infancy, when Robert's foster brother traveled to visit Storm's End, and when he came to break the siege after the Rebellion. Yet among the few memories he had of the man, Renly felt that his seriousness was reflected in his son and the young lad reminded him a little of Stannis.

Loras Tyrell, however, caught Renly's attention for different reasons. The boy was comely and confident, and the Lord of Dragonstone couldn't help but feel drawn to him. The way Loras held himself on the sparring yard proved he was not unworthy of his knighthood, yet there was something else in the Reachman's stance that Renly knew all too well.

Loras was holding himself back around his entourage. As if he was playing a mummery all along and unwilling to show his real self. Something Renly too was doing most of the time. His sarcastic self and constant quips aimed at his family and any who would belittle him were an armor to shield him from those who wished to harm him. An outward image to hide his true self behind. One much needed as his secrets if outed would most certainly turn his brothers against him. Renly believing or mayhap wishing that Loras Tyrell had secrets of his own they could share.

'A shame he's already been knighted. Else I would have asked him to be my squire.' Renly thought, sighing as he shook his head to prevent his mind from going further. Robert would have hated him had he but suggested the matter, as Renly could see how put out his brother had been with Jon Stark since the news of his betrothal to Margaery Tyrell broke.

Storm's End 296 AC,

Jon Stark.

As much as he tried to put Margaery Tyrell out of his mind, it was something far easier said than done, or so Jon was finding. From the moment he'd arrived at Storm's End the specter of his betrothal had almost seemed to hang in the air. Firstly in how he was greeted by Robert Baratheon, as if he'd not already had enough issues with the man, hearing him offer him a way out of his betrothal had only further inflamed his dislike of the Stag King.

'No dislike is too weak a word to describe how I truly feel about Robert Baratheon.' Jon had thought to himself.

Yet for the King of the Seven Kingdoms to suggest that Jon break his betrothal and for him to do so for no other reason than to allow his daughter to be who Jon wedded instead, was as far from kingly as could be. To know so little about who Jon was and what he stood for, just to suggest that he could simply walk away from something he'd agreed to, showed such a lack of basic understanding that it made Jon consider other things that Robert did or did not do or know.

Even the small voice inside of him which said that Robert had done it because of who he believed Jon's father to be. The voice that cried out that he wouldn't see Ned Stark's son forced to wed against his will was shouted down by a much larger voice that spoke in a much truer tone. It had little to do with Ned Stark, in that way at least, instead, it was simply that Robert Baratheon was a spoiled man-child who wished to get his way. So used to doing so had he become, that even sacred things such as oaths and honor meant little to the man who named himself king.

'Would that was the only crime I could lay at his feet.'

When Jon had refused to even countenance breaking his betrothal, Robert had proved the truth of himself even more. In a way, the Stag King reminded him of how Bran or Beth had been when they were much younger children. How when they had been refused an extra slice of pie or leave to do as they wished, they would pout and ignore whomever had denied them. So it was with Robert Baratheon and in this Jon at least found himself most thankful.

Though unfortunately for him it was not the same with some other members of the House of the Stag. Stannis was polite at least. Renly somewhat mocking. While Lady Catelyn would wear such a look of disdain and disgust when she looked Jon's way, that he believed she could curdle milk if she but just glanced at it wearing that expression. The children were friendly enough, Jon supposed. Young Steffon Baratheon and Prince Tommen seemed awed and excited by the sight of those competing in the tourney. Princess Myrcella was almost impossible not to smile at when she looked at you with those bright green eyes and Cassana Baratheon had warmed to Jon greatly after receiving her gift.

As for Prince Joffrey, he wore a look that was much like his aunt's and even more so his mother's when he looked Jon's way. He seemed as if he was trying to rile Jon up, to beat him in some competition where he was the only one of the two of them actually competing. From their initial exchange to the night of the feast where he broke protocol and asked Margaery to dance with him. Leaving Jon to ask Cassana Baratheon and yet in a way saving Jon from having to dance with a girl who liked him not.

It made Jon far more wary in the presence of the Prince than he had expected to be should he and the King speak. Jon had come fearing what seeing Robert Baratheon would be like and how he may act around him, only to find it was others he was more fearful of being alone with. The Prince only managed to be the second of those if he was being honest with himself.

'For it is mine own betrothed whose company I seek to avoid more than any others.'

Still, there was only so much avoidance that could be brought to bear. Jon could not refuse to dance with Margaery, even if he was second after Prince Joffrey to do so. He could not openly snub her should she speak to him, even if he wished to do so more often than not. Or at least that was what he told himself when Margaery looked his way or when his gaze was drawn to her for some unknown reason. The light of the sun when it caught her was something that would force his eyes to look her way. Her hair as it shined and her eyes as they glistened, both being things that Jon found impossible to turn away from. So he avoided her when he could and cursed the times he could not. Some of them at least.

One way he'd found to do this was to concentrate on some of the other things he wished to accomplish at this tourney. Jon was not here to win it or even truly to compete, but rather because he needed to be seen to attend. It was why when he saw Theon Greyjoy, Jon had tried to speak to him about his sister and to relay whatever news he could regarding Asha's disposition and her daily life. Why, when the letter was handed to him, Jon had sought to see that it was given to Theon at the first available opportunity. Not that one presented itself. The Lady of the House and her glowers and glares each time he passed her by, along with the men he believed she'd put to watch him, had robbed him of the chance to do so in person. Thankfully he had friends and companions who could do so for him and so he'd sought Loras out. More than happy to speak to his foster brother on jousting, melees, and Ironborn hostages rather than his future wife.

"I need you to do this for me, Loras, Lady Baratheon likes me not and should she see me anywhere near Theon's rooms, well…."

"She'll name it as some treasonous act or plot you're both working on together." Loras interrupted and Jon nodded.

"Aye, I believe she very well might." Jon sighed.

"Why me, Jon? Surely Ser Symon, Syrio…."

"Yet for as much as they spent time with Asha, they know her not. You do, Loras, you can tell him things that few others can. He seems unwilling to believe any words I speak and yet….."

"Were it your own sister you'd wish them spoken anyway."

"Aye, I would, as no doubt would you."

"Jon, I….Margaery…"

"No words need be spoken, Loras." Jon placed his hand on Loras' shoulder and was happy to see the small nod of his friend's head. As he was to hand Loras the letter and speak to him later to find that he'd handed it to Theon himself.

What he had been less happy about had been his first true sight of the Mountain that Rides. Jon was not the only one of his small group whose hands moved unbidden to their swords at the sight of the monstrous man. Ser Symon too wanted nothing more than to see the Mountain bloody and in pain. Both of them looked at each other and found a kinship over their feelings about the Monster Amongst Men.

"May his death be one that takes a long time and may he suffer greatly before he breathes his last," Jon whispered.

Had it not been for Syrio, then that death or mayhap Ser Symon's would have come very much sooner than any of them expected. His knight was less able to put aside his feelings for now and the angered words spoken between him and the Mountain's Men had been on the verge of being answered with steel. Jon's fencing master however had a clearer head than his father's former squire did and added to not having a personal reason to wish to see the Mountain dead, Syrio managed to move Symon away.

"Not Today, my friend, Not Today," Syrio repeated as he, Symon, Jon, and the rest of his guards moved far from where the Mountain, his men, or the Prince they served could be seen.

That night, Jon dreamed horrible dreams. Dreams of the death of a sister, a brother, and their mother. Dreams of the man who'd taken them from the world, or some of them at least. His mother had told him that they believed it was another who'd killed his sister and the Mountain instead had done for his brother and Princess Elia. Whether that was true or not, his dreams only showed the Mountain and even long after Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia were dead, the monster's bloodlust still wasn't sated. Thankfully Jon woke before he'd made it through the gates of Winterfell and he vowed that night that Gregor Clegane would be dead long before Jon moved for the throne.

Though he'd not expected to find an appetite, Jon broke his fast and cleaned his plate. The jousts were upon them and as they lined up, Jon caught the wicked-looking grin that appeared on Prince Joffrey's face. Briefly, ever so briefly, Jon believed he saw the prince ride his horse forward and stop in front of where Margaery and her cousins sat. with anger clouding his judgment, Jon was almost certain he saw a green ribbon being handed to the prince who then tied it to his arm. Then, in the blink of an eye, the image was gone and Jon's horse moved forward instead.

"Lady Margaery, I would ask for the favor of the Rose of Highgarden and her well wishes in the jousts soon to begin."

"Lord Jon, I give it to you most happily and bid you good fortune in the tilts to come." Margaery smiled as she handed him the green ribbon.

Had she been happy to give him the ribbon? He knew not.

Would she have given it to someone else had they asked for it? He couldn't say.

Was he proud to wear it and did it make him wish to win to see her crowned as Queen of Love and Beauty?

"Aye, it does and I will," Jon said determinedly as he turned his horse and awaited his first tilt of the day.

Storm's End 296 AC,

Margaery Tyrell.

She was starting to doubt herself when it came to her plans regarding the Prince. Joffrey Baratheon was as the rumors she had heard about but ignored due to her desire to see her family and herself grow strong, if not worse. He had not inherited his father's looks, but his overall attitude towards women unsettled her greatly. The Prince knew that his status made it hard for people to refuse him and heavily played on this to make anyone do his bidding.

At first, Margaery had felt flattered to have gained his attention, though Cassana's Baratheon's overtly hostile attitude towards her had made the lady of the Reach uncomfortable. She did not doubt that both of them wished the same thing, to become Joffrey's Queen, though Margaery doubted being tied to him would bring her happiness.

Looking at his entourage and family, especially Queen Cersei, Margaery began to understand what her family had warned her about. The Queen was beautiful, no one would deny this fact, yet the clear disrespect shown by her own husband made her behave coldly toward anyone who wasn't her firstborn son.

Cersei Lannister was clearly unhappy, and Margaery feared that being tied to Joffrey would bring her the same fate. Yet for her family, she was willing to take that risk. She had to.

At least that was what she believed before actually spending time with Joffrey and finding herself comparing him to her betrothed. Both of them were confident in their abilities, though Jon would never boast about it like Joffrey constantly did. Memories of the tourney at her keep came to her mind, and not once had she seen anything akin to bragging in Jon's attitude.

"Who will you root for, Margaery?" Lady Cassana asked bluntly when they got to speak the night before the tourney.

"Well, there are so many good jousters, but my heart will always be with those I cherish," she answered truthfully.

"Your brother and your betrothed, then? I thought you told my cousin you would wish him well."

"I did."

"Does that mean you fancy my brother?" Princess Myrcella asked, visibly curious.

"Oh, he's a Prince of the Realm. I may want my brother to win, but I will not hold it against Prince Joffrey if he does, of course."

"I would. My brother would be much more insufferable if he did." Myrcella's words were weary, much to Margaery's surprise.

"Myrcella!" Cassana exclaimed, offended on behalf of her cousin. "That is not a nice thing to say."

"I usually do not care about tourneys, but between you and me, since Joffrey is participating, I would love to see him get humbled. Preferably by Lord Stark." Myrcella whispered, shocking Margaery. "Do you think your betrothed can win, Lady Margaery?"

"Jon is a good jouster." was all Margaery could say.

"He is a good man. He always sends thoughtful gifts to us for our nameday. Joffrey usually discards them, but Tommen and I enjoy ours to this day." Myrcella smiled.

"Gifts, you say?"

"Yes, he sent me illustrated books about songs and folklore. And look at Cassana's necklace."

"He gave it to you?" Margaey gasped.

"As well as a beautiful jewelry box." Cassana sighed, her dreamy smile tugging at Margaery's heart.

"I wasn't aware of this, but I am glad you seem to enjoy the present my betrothed gave you," she said, forcing a smile of her own. Margaery doing her best to not look as put out as she felt about the fact she seemed to be the only lady in Westeros who received no gifts from Jon Stark. The realization that it may have been her attitude for why that was, not enough to force away the upset that not being gifted so had wrought.

"You are truly lucky, Margaery," Myrcella said, almost preening. "If he acts this way toward strangers, I cannot imagine how spoiled you are with him now that you are betrothed."

Margaery nodded, her fake smile plastered to her face, while internally bristling at the praises made by the two cousins. Besides the crown made for her during the tourney and the winter Rose she had cherished until then, she had received no presents from Jon Stark in all the years they'd known each other. Part of her felt angry at this. She too was a daughter of a great house, so why did he not act the same towards her? Was it simply because of her attitude in the North? Was there another reason? Margaery needed to know and there was only one person she could get the answers from. So she sought her brother out and soon found him.

"If I hadn't known how self-centered you were before, now I have no more doubt about it." Loras sighed when she went to vent to him.

"Why are you insulting me when your friend was the one to humiliate me so?"

"We both sent you gifts for your namedays, Margaery. I suppose no one told you which ones were Jon's because they feared you would make a big scene out of it."

"What?" she gasped in shock.

"You silly girl. He sent you fabrics, and the dollhouse representing Highgarden that you love so much."

"I… I didn't know… I thought you were the one –"

"Knowing how much you hate him, would you have accepted these or snubbed him as you did everything coming from the North?" Loras asked, and Margaery contemplated her answer.

Over the years, she had openly rejected everything related to the North that did not come from Loras. Until her aunt escaped from her keep, she had also been snubbing Mira Forrester, whom she believed now was one of her closest friends. Their shared experiences had brought them closer and had made Margaery see Jon Stark differently ever since he promised her not to treat her aunt Lynesse harshly if they ever found her. She could still recount the words he wrote in the letter she received from him after petitioning for her aunt's cause.

It takes courage to plead for a loved one's well-being and I much admire you for this.

Your action shall be remembered if your Aunt is found and brought back to Winterfell. Her motives will be asked and she will be treated with the utmost respect due to her station.

I can sense your anguish regarding her disappearance and I pray that Lady Lynesse, who has always been kind to me and my kin, is safe wherever she is.

You have my word that no harm will be done to her regardless of the truth of her actions.

Kind regards to you and Lady Mira.

Jon Stark

Lord of Winterfell.

How many times had she read this letter and found its writer to be far too considerate than he should be of her? She could not say. Now she finally realized in this moment that his consideration had run even deeper than what she had ever imagined.

"Your silence is enough of an answer," Loras said, taking her out of her musings.

"No, that's –"

"I don't get it, Marge. Truly I don't. One time you're all cold and distant, almost looking at everything Jon does with pure contempt, and then you completely change and get all offended because you feel he's slighting you and not acting as if you were important."

Margaery fell down on her bed, deflated, knowing her brother was right and that she had no right to behave this way. She wanted to cry, to yell at herself at that moment, and Loras pleading gaze, as he took her hand, didn't help.

"Talk to me, Sister. Tell me why you're so set on doing the things you do."

"You know why I must act this way."

"I don't. Our family doesn't need you to. They're content with what they have. Father is happy with your match, and so is Grandmother. What more do you want?"

"They are settling because they believe they cannot achieve more. I know Grandmother wished for us to be tied to the King. I remember her saying so when I was younger, that my fate was to be Queen. I know it was their dream for me. Their wishes. I know it's what was expected of me."

"Yet they abandoned this dream long ago. Why can't you?"

"Because the role of a Lady is to make sure her family's status is paramount." she cited coldly.

"By soiling her reputation to entice a Prince?"

"If said Prince is willing to marry her, would it be so bad to have her reputation tarnished?" she said and then covered her mouth after she'd done so. The words though spoken were not ones she believed in and she wished she could take them back.

"What about the North? What about Jon? Do you think they would accept being shamed by us once again?"

"What about me? Are you worrying about your friend's feelings more than mine? Is that why you're willing to discard me once again to go back North? Because you love him more than me? Or is it for someone else you're willing to sell out your sister for?"

The hurt in her brother's eyes echoed in her heart. She knew she was being unfair to Loras. By talking with Willas, she had understood what went on in their brother's mind. He could not help who he loved, and while it had hurt her that he would hide the truth from her, she had begun to realize that her attitude was harming his prospect of a happy life. Though she hoped she would be able to act on his behalf as a Queen, to protect him from the hearsay and scorn that he would be subjected to. Should his truth come out, there would be much of both in her brother's future.

"My Lady! My Lady!" Mira rushed into the room, looking flustered. "Oh, apologies, I did not know… Lord Jon gave me this to give to you, Lady Margaery."

"Do not worry, Mira. We were done talking." Loras said, his icy town tugging at Margaery's heart while the girl moved towards her lady-in-waiting.

"What is it?" she asked Mira. "What did Jon give you?"

"A present, my Lady. He said he has been remiss in his duty and meant to give you this before the start of the tourney, but found himself unable to."

"I wonder why…" Loras scoffed, rolling his eyes and prompting his sister to do the same.

She opened the box given to her and gasped as she looked down upon a breathtaking set of jewelry.

There was a necklace, a bracelet, a pair of earrings, and what seemed to be a hair accessory, all designed in her house's symbol and colors. The intricate work on each rose was sublimed with the surrounding jade leaves adorning the jewelry, and Margaery couldn't help but be blown away by such a costly gift. So much so that it didn't strike her until much later that, unlike the others that had been gifted in secret, this one was gifted very much in the open.

"'Tis so… So beautiful, my Lady!" Mira marveled next to her and Margaery could only nod in agreement.

Margaery felt it was too much, too much for someone who had spent her time avoiding him from the moment he arrived. She didn't deserve the gift, yet part of her wishes she did.

"Do you want me to bring it back for you?" her brother asked.

"Why would you do that?" she instantly said, glaring at Loras who now wore his annoying smirk.

"Well, since you don't want to be his betrothed, you may as well return–"

"It is unbecoming of a Lady to refuse a gift, whatever the circumstances." Margaery retorted, taking a step back for each one her brother made towards her.

"You, my sister, are greedy. You want him to pine for you and to leave him wanting. Your greed will be your loss, and do not count on me to pick up the pieces once it happens." Loras spat, shaking his head before leaving her room.

"Do you truly wish to break the betrothal, Margaery?" Mira asked, and she could hear the tinge of disappointment in her friend's voice.

"I… I truly don't know what to do," she admitted, sighing. "Prince Joffrey has been naught but kind and chivalrous to me ever since we arrived."

"You mean ever since Jon arrived." Mira scoffed. "Before then he had been ignoring you, begging your pardon. I've heard you swearing about his lack of interest for two days."

"You're right, I did…" Margaery frowned.

"May I be honest with you, Margaery?"

"When are you not?" she japed, nodding so Mira could continue.

"I have heard people talk. They are careless when they think you a servant or a mindless lady. The things I heard about Prince Joffrey…"

"Why did you hear?"

"That he tries so very hard to be his father's son, that he is a little shit in general. People in Storm's End don't like him, neither do either of his uncles."

"They're simply jealous of him." Margaery defended, knowing not why she did so.

"That may be the case, but I also heard that he… That he was soon to pluck the Rose from under the Wolf's nose."

"He would never!" Margaery yelled, deeply offended.

"Apologies, my Lady, I didn't mean to –"

"No, I would never stoop so low as to give him my maidenhead!"

"I know, I know you're not like that!' Mira was quick to say. "But the people from Court, they seem to be under the impression that you would, so… I would not spend as much time with the Prince from now on if I was you."

Margaery nodded absentmindedly. She wondered if her discomfort when in the presence of Joffrey had come from the looks of others rather than her own feelings. She couldn't trust Loras when he came to her, for she knew his loyalties were divided, and while Mira was of the North and also a friend to Jon Stark. Yet, Margaery felt the lady of Ironrath was less involved or intent in making her Jon's wife than her brother may very well be.

"Thank you for letting me know, Mira."

Once again she found herself torn between her instincts and her heart. She knew there was a risk that Joffrey would want more than she could offer and had hoped that the prospect of being the one taking her maidenhead after their marriage would be enough to make him think of her as more than a prospective bride once he knew her. Yet it seemed the Prince would enjoy having it before, which was something Margaery would not compromise with. She had no wish to shame Jon Stark either, it was the last thing she'd ever countenance doing. However, if people were speaking, then it meant that she may very well be doing so regardless.

It left Margaery in a quandary. The person she'd usually go and speak to about such things was back in Highgarden and while she had her mother and father here with her, she knew not if she wished to seek out their advice. In the end, she felt she had no choice so she made her way to her mother's room. Her guards were behind her and she swore as she walked she saw the small sparrow that sometimes followed her around. Only that it was through the window and from a distance stopping her from truly believing she did. Nodding to the two guards as she entered her mother's rooms, she found it was not simply questions of her virtue that she wished to speak on, for the truth of the gifts she received was something else that Margaery wanted answers to.

"Sweetling, are you well?"

"I…Mother I…"

"Margaery?"

"MIra and I were speaking, Mother, and she told me some things which I find I need help understanding."

"And with your grandmother not here you came to me." her mother replied and though she spoke the words with no malice, Margaery felt the need to explain herself all the same.

"I would like to come to you about things more, Mother, yet you care not for politics and such things and Grandmother…"

"Lives to play this Game of Thrones." her mother sighed. "You can come to me always, Sweetling, about anything or everything that's on your mind. Your grandmother may think she has all the answers, yet her life was far from perfect and she's made as many mistakes as the rest of us ever will. More so in some regards"

"Mother?"

"No matter, come sit and tell me what ails you, my child."

For the next hour, Margaery spoke on almost all that was on her mind. Other than her plans with the prince, which she wished not to be dissuaded from, or more truly, wished to decide for herself, she and her mother spoke much on what bothered her. When it came to her betrothed, it was clear that what Loras had said was true and that her mother favored a match between her and Jon Stark. As they spoke on her virtue, it became even clearer that her mother liked the prince not.

"Yet Grandmother said that she seduced Grandfather," Margaery stated when her mother told her that a lady's virtue was her most precious thing. That once a lady's reputation had been tarnished it was rarely recovered.

"And mayhap she did but 'tis not something I'd see my daughter do nor something she needs to. Your betrothed has already accepted the match, Margaery, there is no seduction required, not yet."

"Not yet?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, my dear sweet innocent child." Her mother laughed. "Seduction doesn't end once you're wed, far from it, and trust me, it will not only be you who is doing the seducing."

Margaery blushed deeply as her mother told her of the lengths a good husband would go to make their wife happy in the bed chamber. How a woman too would use certain methods to ensure that a husband had eyes only for her. it made her look at her mother and father differently when the jousting readied to begin. Compared to how it made her look at her betrothed and at the prince she had believed she'd be trying to seduce, however, it was night and day. For not the first time, Margaery began to compare the looks of Jon Stark and Joffrey Baratheon. She then even began to compare their attitudes and character. Quickly finding the one winning out over the other. By the time it came to seeking out favors, Margaery felt nervous and yet excited too. Happy even when the prince came not her way and instead it was her betrothed who did so.

"I would ask for the favor of the Lady of Highgarden."

'And she would give it and her heart alongside it to you most happily, Lord Stark.'

Those were the words she longed to say as she tied the favor to Jon Stark's arm, yet the words she did were more neutral and non-committal. Margaery did not understand why she did so until the time had come and passed for her to speak the ones she wished. Her grandmother's training was so ingrained in her that she had led with that rather than with what she felt in her heart. Her mother's words now rang ever more true as the first tilts began to take place.

"Your grandmother is a smart and clever woman, Margaery, and yet she is not as smart and clever as she believes she is. Her mistakes have cost much and her words are not the only ones that need to be listened to."

Storms' End 296 AC,

The Jousts Day One.

Joffrey Baratheon.

Had it not been for his uncle, then Joffrey wouldn't have even thought of picking up a lance. Jousting was something he endured rather than reveled in as he did the Melee. True, he'd enjoyed seeing a man bleed out on one of the rare occasions that a lance hit home truer than expected. He relished seeing a man tumble from his horse and fall badly. The sound of the screams of both the jouster and the crowd when such a thing would happen was more than enough to bring a smile to Joffrey's face. Compared to besting a man one on one, to beating a man bloody with your weapon of choice, however, jousting had seemed dull to him.

Yet when his uncle Jaime won and was applauded as truly as he was. When Joffrey had seen him take the accolades and witnessed the adoration of the crowd, it had piqued his interest. Hearing his uncle then speak of how songs and tales of the great jousters were sung even more loudly than those of the great swordsmen, sealed the deal and Joffrey began to practice. That he had mayhap the very best jousting knight in all the seven kingdoms to learn from, was enough to allow him to hone his skills. Not that this was at the forefront of his mind this morn. Instead, it was Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell who'd rooted themselves deep in Joffrey's thoughts.

"They think they are so skilled."

"As if they are some maiden's dream."

"That the honor and glory of crowning a queen of love and beauty is theirs by right."

Joffrey groused as he reached down to take the lance from his cousin Tyrek. His expression was one that those who knew him best of all recognized all too well. Each of them knew that to gainsay him or turn his ire in their direction was a foolish thing to do. Given that his ire already had found its true targets for the day, it was far better to keep silent than it was to utter the wrong word.

Hearing the call for the first set of tilts, Joffrey brought his horse Dragonsbane to where the other riders now lined up. Once again his attention was turned to Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell and Joffrey liked not what he saw. The latter wore armor that almost rivaled his own in its ostentatiousness, while the former almost seemed to dress down and looked poor in comparison. Jon Stark embodied the frugality of the Northmen and Joffrey hated him for it. As he did the boy's foster brother for daring to compete with him in being anything but frugal.

Turning to the stand, he smirked under his helm as he saw the Rose of Highgarden and a few seats away from her, his cousin Cassana. The knowledge that should he wish it then he could pluck Margaery Tyrell's most precious flower and besmirch her reputation was almost enough to make him stiffen in his small clothes. While knowing that his cousin worshiped the very ground he walked upon and wanted nothing more than to be his wife, it was enough to have him puff out his chest a little.

"The Lion Roars while the Wolf bristles silently," Joffrey muttered under his breath.

All too soon, he heard his name called out and welcomed hearing the cheers when the herald did so. Searching the crowd once more he saw how his mother appreciated it just as much as he did, while his father too wore an expression that showed just how happy he was to hear his son's plaudits. Still, it would be all for naught if he didn't give a showing worthy of a prince, and yet for Joffrey that alone wouldn't be enough.

'No, a good showing is the call of losers and weak men and not the bellow of a Stag.'

With the first tilts announced, it was time for those among them who wished it to seek the favor of their lady of choice. Joffrey almost rode to where Margaery Tyrell and her fat oaf of a father sat and yet something made him decide not to. He looked to his cousin who he could see was looking his way eagerly and yet, Cassana too he disappointed. A part of him then thought he should ride to his mother and ask her for her favor and yet in this too, he kept his place in line. Even when Jon Stark rode to his betrothed and Joffrey looked on as a green ribbon was tied to his arm, Joffrey kept Dragonsbane's reins loose in his hands. His smirk turned to a grin when he caught Cassana's downcast expression as he rode out to face off against some fool from House Darry.

"Prince Joffrey Baratheon against Lord Raymun Darry." the Herald shouted out, to loud cheers, Joffrey already grabbing the lance and readying to thrust it hard against the Dragonlover's chest.

It took him three tilts to unhorse Lord Raymun and none cheered louder than his mother and father when he did so. Joffrey even saw his uncle offer him a true smile and a respectful nod of his head as he rode back to where his cousins awaited.

Once he reached them, he was forced to watch as Loras Tyrell rode to where his sister awaited and placed a rose in her hands. The crowd cheered wildly and the knight earned Joffrey's hatred in the process. Watching as it took but one tilt for Loras to beat Ser Imry Florent, Joffrey swore he'd see the Flower fall before this tourney was done. Only to then find someone he wished to see fall even more than Mace Tyrell's third son.

Jon Stark beat Ser Perwyn Frey in three tilts. Each of them showed just how accomplished a horseman the future Warden of the North was. Looking from the jet-black stallion he rode to the face of the woman he was to wed as she cheered him on, Joffrey knew exactly what it was he wished to do. No matter what it took, how much coin it cost, Jon Stark and he would tilt in this tourney, and when that tilt was done, Joffrey would be the one who was named the victor.

"By the Seven, I'll see it so."

The next set of tilts brought varying degrees of interest from him. His uncle Renly defeated some hedge knight whose name Joffrey never even bothered to learn. Edmure Tully lucked his way past Lord Byrce Caron, the latter's horse pulling up lame and causing his defeat. Ser Robar Royce proved himself as adept with a lance as he had a sword and Joffrey took a long piss and missed half the field such was his disinterest and boredom while awaiting his second tilt of the day. That came after both Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell had won their own with aplomb and Joffrey soon found himself facing Randyll Tarly's second son, Dickon. Who he defeated in four tilts and whose loss earned him another large cheer from the crowd. Joffrey's father and mother once again showed their appreciation and though he heard him not, Joffrey believed that the words his father and his uncle shared were ones that sang his praises.

Other than the draw for the next day's tilts, the day itself was just about at an end. Jon Stark was drawn against Robar Royce and Joffrey found himself to be somewhat envious of them both. He believed he was skilled enough to beat the knight from the Vale and yet he worried that Jon Stark would fall to him. Something he wished not to happen and so he wondered if he should do something to ensure it did not. His uncle Renly had been drawn against Edmure Tully and Joffrey cared not which of them one. Nor did he truly ponder on Loras Tyrell against Lord Beric Dondarrion, other than to name the Flower as the likely victor.

As for himself, he'd been drawn against Lord Gerold Grafton and the words that his father spoke to him later on that night were enough to make him long to see the man fall. Rarely if ever had his father shown such pride or even interest in what he did, although he did occasionally come and see him practice his skills in the sparring yard. Hearing him speak of Joffrey beating Dragonlovers and their spawn. Of how the Graftons had dared fight against him during the Rebellion. Joffrey found himself eager for the tilt to come.

"On the Morrow, I make my name and earn my father's pride," he said as he readied himself for the night's feast and he did so with thoughts of once again dancing with Jon Stark's betrothed in mind.

Renly Baratheon.

He'd seen how upset his niece had been that his nephew hadn't asked for her favor. Joffrey proved himself the arrogant prick that Renly and those in his circle named him. Alone and far from other witnesses that it may have been when they did so. So, it fell to him to put a smile on Cassana's face and Renly did just that. Riding to her and acting even more gallant and chivalrous than he usually did, just to make his niece's day. Or almost just to do so, Renly knew full well that he won over much of the crowd by asking for Cassana's favor and he much welcomed doing so.

As for the tilts themselves, he spent much time eyeing up the competition. Almost as much time as he spent eyeing up those he longed to share his bed with if he was being honest with himself. Some of them ended up being the same people, as Jon Stark was a dangerously handsome young man and a fine horseman to boot. While young Loras Tyrell possessed a beauty that made Renly curse his fostering and squiring in the North. Thoughts of what may have been had he moved quicker and not worried about how his brother looked at the Roses, were never far from Renly's mind.

When it came to his brothers, he much preferred sharing the company of one over the other. To his surprise, it was not the boisterous fun-loving brother, but the dour and sullen one who Renly sought out more oft than not. Stannis at least talked up his chances and showed some pride in Renly's achievements and never once had he dared to belittle him in public or in private. Something that Robert was guilty of more than once and which made him hate his oldest brother somewhat. At one point, Renly had even believed that was why he disliked Joffrey so much, now he knew differently. It was his nephew's character and not that he was the son of Robert Baratheon that made Joffrey so dislikeable in Renly's eyes.

"Loras Tyrell, my lord." Malcon his young squire said as he handed Renly the lance and looked at him with those bright blue eyes of his. The licking of his lips as Renly took the lance in hand was more than enough to have him thinking of the night to come.

His squire was no Loras Tyrell, nor even Jon Stark, yet he was young and handsome and the things he could do with his fingers were enough to stiffen Renly even now just thinking of them. However, it was looking down the tiltyard at Loras Tyrell which kept him hard as he moved his horse to ready for its ride.

In the first round, Renly had faced off against a hedge knight from the Vale. He'd beaten the man easily and had found no glory in doing so. His second tilt had been against Edmure Tully and while he'd been friendly with his Goodsister's brother, he showed him no mercy as they brought their lances to bear against each other. Renly beat the man in two tilts. He both earned some renown in doing so and shamed the heir to Riverrun at the same time. For it had not been just a perfect strike that had won Renly the day, but Edmure almost falling from his horse for some unknown reason.

Now, to make it to the morrow, he had to beat a young man who was far more accomplished than either of his opponents thus far. A young man who on his second tilt had placed a golden rose in Cassana's hand and had followed that up by just now placing one in Myrcella's. Both Renly's nieces almost swooned at the sight of the Knight of Flowers as Loras had come to be known as.

'What would they think if they knew his true inclinations, I wonder?' Renly thought wickedly. He was more than certain that Loras's tastes ran in the same direction as his own and it irked him once more that it had been North and not to Dragonstone that the young lad had been sent.

Mayhap that was why he put so much power into his strike in the first tilt. Why he almost unseated Loras and felt not the strike of the lance he'd taken in return. It was certainly why on the second he had felt confident of victory and once again it was Renly's lance that hit home truer than that of his opponent. The third was when it all came unstuck and as he flew from his horse and crashed into the ground, Renly wondered if he had been played or simply hit with a lucky strike.

It mattered not which of those it was, however. He'd lost and only by the gods' good graces, it was only pride and a broken golden antler from his helm that were damaged here today. Renly rose to his feet a few moments after he'd crashed to the ground. Winded and beaten, yet seeing those brown eyes gaze at him with worry, he cared not for either. Even when Loras rode away once he had made sure that Renly was truly unhurt, it was thoughts of seeing lust in those eyes that Renly concentrated on. Or tried to at least.

"You rode well, my lord," Malcon said to him once he'd made sure that Renly was indeed unharmed.

"And yet I lost."

"There is no shame in losing, my lord."

'Would that was so' Renly thought later that night. His brother and then his nephew both proved or at least tried to, that there was shame in not making it to the second day's tilts. Robert belittled him at every turn during the feast. When it was not his brother's mocking voice that he heard, it was that of his nephew. Joffrey had come through the day unscathed and yet had been drawn against Renly's conqueror for the morrow. The thought of his nephew being unhorsed was one of the only things that brought a smile to his face that night. That and how concerned both Cassana and Myrcella had been when he spoke to them. His two nieces were happy and relieved to see that he was truly unhurt and between that and Stannis' words, Renly at least went to his bed in a decent mood.

"You rode well, brother, and 'tis no shame to lose to the better rider on the day."

"Tell that to our brother." Renly snorted.

"A fool only learns the knowledge of fools, brother. And our brother is the biggest fool of all." Stannis replied and Renly looked to his brother to see a look of disdain on his face as Stannis looked to where Robert sat. "You were beaten by the better man today, yet there was naught in it, brother, but for ill fortune, it could have been your victory that we toasted tonight."

Instead, it was Loras Tyrell's, Jon Stark's, and Joffrey's that were toasted loudly and boisterously. Some more than others as Robert extolled the virtues of his son and denigrated the opponents that Joffrey had vanquished. At the Reach's table, Jon Stark kept Loras company and Renly felt jealous of them both equally. A large part of him wished that he was Margaery Tyrell or whomever it was that Loras had given his heart to. Even if it was for but one night.

His own night was one spent enjoying Malcon's ministrations. The young lad brought Renly to the peak more than once before eventually allowing him to crash over the edge. Images of dark brown hair and grey or brown eyes came to his mind as he spent in or on young Malcon's body. Whereas it was thoughts of hearing either Jon Stark or Loras Tyrell call out his name in pleasure that was more than enough to make Renly rise again.

Upon waking the next morning, he was sated and tired and yet keen for the day to begin. He broke his fast with Malcon and his guards. Briefly paid a visit to the table where his brother, Goodsister, and niece and nephew sat, while wondering where the rest of his kin were. Robert, Cersei, Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen all arrived just as Renly finished his morning meal. Their arrival coincided with the departure of Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell who both begged the king's indulgence before leaving to ready for the day's tilts.

Leaving the Great Hall behind, Renly too made his way to the tiltyard. He placed coin on Loras Tyrell to defeat his nephew and almost offered prayers to the Father to see Joffrey suffer as Loras' older brother had. The thought of his nephew being forced to limp and use a cane for the rest of his life was more than enough to make him chuckle.

"He could use being taking down a peg or two. And that would see it done." Renly whispered.

Yet as the tilts began, as he looked to where Joffrey, Jon Stark, and Loras Tyrell awaited to be called, he liked not the look on his nephew's face. As the two horses then raced down the tilt toward each other, Renly felt his heart still and began to feel worried for some reason.

Now he did offer a prayer to the Father and it was not one to see his nephew suffer so, but to protect the young man that Joffrey was facing.

"I beg of you, let it be my nephew and not the Knight of Flowers, do me this small mercy," Renly whispered as the lances crashed together.

The Jousts Day Two.

Loras Tyrell.

At the previous night's feast, Loras had believed he'd seen a change in his sister. Slight and imperceptible as it may have been to most. Margaery had once again danced with Joffrey Baratheon, though this time she'd not looked best pleased to do so. Certainly not as happy as she seemed to be when she had danced with Jon. His sister even made her way to their table to ask Jon for a second dance. Something which had taken Jon aback but had been welcomed by his friend, Loras believed.

They looked good together on the dance floor and Loras still believed that there was no better match for his sister than the future Warden of the North. No man would treat her better than Jon Stark and so he was glad to see Margaery at least paying her betrothed the right amount of attention. He believed too that his sister coming to their table to ask Jon to dance after she'd done so with the prince, was Margaery trying to send a message to one and all. She'd danced firstly with her betrothed, then had mayhap been unable to turn down the prince when he moved her way, so she'd made sure it was to Jon she'd gone to once they were done. Politics, propriety, and protocol may not be something that Loras cared much for, but he understood its importance well enough. His grandmother made very sure of that with each of her grandchildren when they were growing up.

Speaking to his friend after the second dance, Loras was all but certain that Jon had been most happy that Margaery had come to their table. He'd seen how eagerly his sister had given Jon her favor when he'd asked for it and though he and Margaery had argued once more over her plans, he did sense some reluctance in them now at least. Something that the next morning proved even more true, as Margaery along with her ladies made their way to the stables and bid him and Jon good fortune in the day to come. Even japing with them both before leaving.

"You, in the stables, whatever would grandmother think." Loras chuckled as he accepted a kiss on his cheek from his sister.

"You know full well that I too like to ride, brother mine."

"I do, and yet you usually prefer your horse brought to you if I remember rightly."

"Lord Jon," Margaery said, turning from him to face his friend.

"Lady Margaery," Jon replied stiffly. Loras believed it had more to do with the shock of seeing his sister in the stables than misliking seeing her there.

"I came to wish you both good fortune in the day's events. And to bid you both be careful. It would wound me so to see either of you hurt." Margaery said and while she glanced at Loras, she looked far more truly at Jon, to Loras' eye.

"Then we shall take every measure to ensure we're not, my lady and I thank you for your well wishes and concern." Jon smiled.

"As do I, sister mine," Loras said, touched by the sentiment. "Though if you wish us both good fortune then it could lead to you not wearing a crown," he smirked. Winking at Jon in the process.

"Propriety requires me to wish you both good fortune, brother mine, as well you know." Margaery slapped his shoulder. "Though I do so like wearing a flowery crown." she looked at Jon once more.

They spoke for a few more moments, Jon and Margaery having probably one of the longest and friendliest conversations that Loras could remember them having. Loras only interjected or interrupted when the conversation began to waver. By the time his sister left, he believed that Jon was ever more keen to win and yet whether it was fate or ill fortune, the prince's arrival forced his sister to bid Joffrey good fortune too. Loras noticed the frown and even somewhat dejected look that came over Jon's face as she did so. His words that it too was because of protocol and propriety and not out of any great wish to see Joffrey victorious, not enough to allow Jon to accept that. Other words he then spoke seemed to at least partly do so, however.

"I am facing him in the first tilt, Jon, my sister would never wish me to lose lest it was against someone who was to crown her."

"Aye…"

"I believe her words spoken to us to be genuine and true, Jon. Those she now speaks to the prince, I wager are very much not."

A pat to the shoulder, words wishing him good fortune, and a nod of Jon's head were enough for Loras to believe he'd undone some of the damage that Joffrey's arrival had caused. The tilt against the prince and knocking him on his arrogant arse would surely do the rest, or so he believed. Loras turned to Bluebell and spoke softly to his horse before leading her out to where the day's competitors lined up and waited to be called.

He felt it as he rode, his mare not moving as freely and assuredly as she usually did. Reaching down to pat her softly on the head, he whispered words in her ear and she at least seemed to calm somewhat. Yet by the time he had taken his lance in hand and begun his ride, Loras was ever more certain that his mare was not right and well. It cost him the first tilt and most of the power he'd usually put into his wielding of the lance. Even more so the second tilt and by the third, Loras was barely able to keep a hold of Bluebell's reins as his mare fought him all the way.

Putting all he had into what he worried may very well be his last tilt of this contest, Loras found little purchase and his lance glanced harmlessly off Prince Joffrey's shield. The prince's lance hit home good and true, however. Loras felt the pain in his chest and lost his grip on his reins as he did so. He was unable to deal with the combination of Bluebell's unhelpfulness and the force of Joffrey's strike and it cost him his seat and the match. Loras crashed to the ground and only that he rolled which took most of the impact, he'd have hurt himself far worse than simply a jolt.

"Loras, Loras, are you well." a voice said and he looked to see Jon leaning over him. His friend had dismounted and raced onto the field to make sure he was unhurt or to get him to a Maester if he was.

It was far more than the prince himself did. Joffrey instead took the plaudits and reveled in the crowd's cheers. Loras later found out that he'd not even bothered to come check on him as he lay winded on the hard ground. The prince cared not for chivalry it seemed, though Loras would have been able to tell the truth of that to anyone who asked. Joffrey Baratheon was much like his father and both of them cared only for their wants and needs. Other people only mattered to them if they could gain something from them.

"I'm good, Jon, winded but good."

"Thank the old gods, I was worried…..Beth would kill us both if anything happened to you." Jon said softly and Loras chuckled and coughed, before chuckling again.

"She would, so it falls to you now to win the day and to return from it unscathed, Jon."

"You are truly unhurt?" Jon asked and Loras nodded as he was then helped to his feet and he turned to the crowd and waved.

He may not have been able to see her, but he knew Margaery would have worried about him. Given what happened to Willas, he knew too that his father and mother would as well. The wave he'd given more so for them than it was to let the rest of the crowd know that he was unharmed.

To his chagrin, it was at his mother's insistence that the Maester looked him over and named him as no more than slightly bruised. His mother all but demanded that the Maester double checked and so the man did as he'd been bid. His father and sister weren't too far behind in their worries and it was only that his mother had come to him that stopped them both from doing likewise. Loras soon joined them in the stands to watch the rest of the tilts. All of them cheering Jon on much to Loras' delight.

"I had thought you'd be more upset to be beaten, brother," Margaery whispered.

"I take comfort in knowing that you'll now only have your betrothed to cheer on in the finals, sister."

"Indeed." Margaery smiled, one of her true ones, and Loras almost wished to ask her what had changed her attitude toward Jon.

Almost. Instead, he simply welcomed that something had and offered a prayer to the Father to see his friend win the day.

Jon Stark.

Try as he might, Jon could find no fault with Loras' horse. It may have been clear to him, Ser Symon, and even Syrio that his foster brother's horse served him ill in the tilt, the reason for it however proved to be elusive. As too did the motivations of his betrothed if Jon considered them truly. Margaery had shown him more favor and goodwill since the start of this tourney than even the one at Highgarden where their betrothal was announced. She'd even come and visited him and Loras at the stables to wish them good fortune. Jon found himself touched and most appreciative of the sentiment.

"As I was of the conversation we shared," he whispered.

Turning to look at the favor tied to his arm, it brought a smile to his face where once it had brought naught but a scowl. Jon had asked for his betrothed's favor because he knew that he must. Anything else would be to shame Margaery Tyrell and it would not be him to do so. Yet it had been given with good grace and what now seemed like a true smile when Jon considered it. The questions he'd had about Margaery's reasoning were now ones that he believed he'd found some answers to. Or mayhap he just wished it to be so.

It was not the only wish that he'd had since coming to Storm's End. Nor was Margaery the only person whose interactions with him had raised questions. The feast the night before had been yet another example of that and as the next tilt began, Jon found himself thinking back to his conversation with Hoster Tully and yet wishing it was to his dances with Margaery Tyrell that his mind took him.

"Lord Stark." the older man said as he moved toward where Jon stood.

"Lord Tully," Jon replied warily.

"You rode well today, Lord Stark, better than mine own son, I'm unhappy to say." Hoster offered a smile with no mirth in it whatsoever.

"Lord Edmure was unlucky, my lord." Jon lied. Truthfully the heir of Riverrun was a poor jouster and had been lucky to face Renly Baratheon rather than someone even more talented. Had he, then he'd have been unhorsed on the first tilt rather than the second.

"It is good of you to say so, Lord Stark, yet we both know that to be untrue. I wish to thank you for your gift to my granddaughter. Cassana was most pleased and to see such a smile on her face is a balm to my heart."

"She is a sweet girl, my lord, I am only too happy to have brought her even a moment's joy."

"'Tis a shame that you are already matched, Lord Stark, any young lady would do well to have such a generous man as her husband."

"My mother and my aunt will be most pleased to hear me named as such."

There was silence for a few moments, Hoster seemed to take Jon's measure and Jon did his best to do likewise. Yet the words when spoken rang with an air of dishonesty and Jon believed them not.

"I wish you to know that I bear you no ill will, Lord Stark. I'll not lie and say I wish it was my grandson and not yourself who the North would one day look to, but alas the gods saw fit to take him from us before that day could come."

"You have my sympathies on your loss, Lord Tully, your daughter's too."

"I thank you, Lord Stark, and bid you good fortune on the morrow."

"Lord Tully." Jon nodded.

Hearing his name be called, Jon turned from his thoughts and began to concentrate on the tilt in front of him. Loras had fallen in the quarter-finals and Jon was now to do all he could to win his own. Something easier said than done as he was soon to find himself riding against a giant. Roland Crakehall was almost as large as the Mountain that Rides. His House's words were None So Fierce and the first clash of lances proved that to be true. Jon was only able to hold onto his reins due to his horsemanship and his connection with Winter.

On the second, Jon was better prepared and he let his shield absorb the blow more easily. His lance hitting home better too. The same was true for the third tilt and so on the fourth, he bid Winter to give it his all and rode even faster. He hoped the extra pace would allow him to strike an unprepared opponent and in this, he had the gods' own favor. Roland was caught flush in the chest and the extra speed of Winter combined with how much effort Jon put into the blow was enough to win him the day.

After making sure that Roland was unhurt and offering the lord a polite bow of his head to thank him for the tilt, Jon felt more than ready for the semi-final match. Unfortunately, the gods decided then to offer up a delay as the rain began to fall. The tilt's postponed until they stopped be that later that day or the morrow. It allowed Jon to thank Winter for all he'd done and to give his horse a good brushing down and some extra hay.

"Aye, you served me well again, my friend," Jon said softly as he looked into Winter's eyes.

Lunch was served early and it was not something that any of them seemed to enjoy. The draw for the semi-finals was made indoors rather than out and Jon was drawn against another knight of the West. Ser Addam Marbrand had shown himself to be most talented with a lance in hand and Jon had even seen him prove himself true in the sparring yard too. He looked forward to the match be it today or on the morrow and he even found himself looking forward to the other Semi Final. Prince Joffrey having been drawn against Lord Jason Mallister, the Lord of Seagard. Another who'd shown much skill and Jon would not like to wager on who would win that tilt.

As much as he misliked the prince, Joffrey had proven himself more than capable of giving any a match in the tilts. His victory over Loras may be somewhat questionable, Jon believing if Bluebell was in full fettle, his foster brother would have won. Yet, he couldn't be certain that would be so. The prince's victories over his other opponents were enough to give him some doubt. Whether or not he wished Joffrey to win and for it to be him who Jon faced in the final, well that was a question he'd not ask himself until his own victory was assured.

'Only a fool would dare to do so.'

Surprisingly the rains stopped not long after lunch was finished. Jon had stuck to juice and barely eaten as it had been far too soon after the breaking of his fast to make him hungry enough to do so. Heading straight to the stables, he along with the others was surprised to walk into some commotion. Both Ser Addam's and Lord Jason's horses had come up lame and there now was some confusion as to what was to happen with the semi-finals. Jon found he cared not for the reasons if truth be told. Instead, it was to his own horse that his attention turned and he was relieved that Winter seemed well.

It then was left to the King and Lord Stannis to decide how the tourney was to continue. Both Ser Addam and Lord Jason had brought only one horse for jousting and while they could ride another if someone was willing to give up their mount to them, neither man seemed eager to do so. Something that Jon could well understand, for if Winter was unable to ride then Jon would not participate at all. The bond between horse and man was a key one when it came to jousting and his bond with his stallion even more so than someone else's may be.

Given the weather too, there was not as much time to postpone things as may very well have been done was this a different tourney in a different keep. The storms that the keep had been named after were never far away and the morning's rain was seen as a portent of their coming. So, Ser Addam forfeited his match to Jon and Lord Jason did the same with his own and Joffrey. Jon somehow got his unspoken wish to face off against the prince in the final, even if he'd have far preferred them both to have earned their victories to get there.

"It matters not, Jon. True you or the prince may have lost your tilts and this match may well have been between Ser Addam and Lord Jason. Then again, you may have won and we'd be getting the final we are. You beat the man in front of you, Jon, and only the man in front of you." Ser Symon said and Jon nodded.

Syrio gave him no true advice, his fencing master cared not for the joust and only got somewhat interested when Jon told him that at times it went to swords to decide the victor. Not that his joust with Joffrey would do so, for it fell to the man unhorsed to decide to take things further and should he be unhorsed, Jon would accept it as an honest and true loss.

Riding out, he felt a weight in his chest, however. A feeling of foreboding that he couldn't shake. He at first put it down to the ground that they'd tilt on. The rain had turned it to mud and it made riding much harder than it should be.

'However, it at least would make the ground softer and cushion any fall.' Jon thought wryly.

As Winter raced down the tiltyard, Jon felt his saddle begin to give. Somehow, he managed to stay ahorse as the two lances collided. Knowing he'd no time to check his suspicions regarding the saddle and unwilling to forfeit the joust, he took his second lance and rode even faster toward Prince Joffrey. The lance then hit home good and true, unseating his opponent. Not that he came away victorious, mind.

The straps holding the saddle to Winter's back had snapped and the saddle itself began to slip off. Jon did his utmost to take his feet from the stirrups so that he didn't fall with it. Fall he did, however. Hard and onto a piece of ground that the rain had softened not. A sound that he was to find out later was his shoulder being dislocated was heard only by him, as the crowd cried out in worry and concern over both Jon and the prince.

Had he looked, he'd have seen Margaery rise to her feet and bring her hand to her mouth as she called out for him. He'd have seen Loras being held back by some of Storm's End's guards as the match between Jon and the prince had not yet been decided. Ser Symon, Syrio, Ghost, he'd have seen them all look on with concern and yet Jon could not look at any of them, not. Firstly due to the pain in his shoulder which rendered his arm useless for now. Secondly, unlike him, Prince Joffrey had risen to his feet most quickly and had called for his sword.

"I challenge you to continue on foot, Lord Stark," Joffrey called out to some cheers and groans.

"I…"

Jon rose gingerly, his shoulder paining him terribly and his arm hanging limply by his side. All sense told him to simply yield. To accept his defeat gracefully and to heal up and fight another day. A glance to the crowd where Margaery sat looking on was enough to rob him of his senses, however. Jon called out for his sword and then shook his head at Loras when his foster brother bid him not to fight.

He'd trained with both arms, Syrio insisting on it and yet his balance was thrown completely by the injury to his shoulder and the fact his right arm couldn't truly be moved. Still, he gave it his all and the fight lasted far longer than it should have. Jon even believed that he could win it at one point. Joffrey was a decent swordsman, he'd have given him a match even if Jon's arm wasn't useless and it was that arm rather than his off arm he was wielding his sword in. Since it was his off arm, however, all Jon did was prolong the fight and cause himself some more pain in doing so. The prince took much pleasure in crashing his sword against Jon's right arm and more than once against his injured shoulder.

Eventually, he could stop the strikes no more and so he yielded when Joffrey knocked the sword from his hand. The prince offered him no acknowledgment or showed Jon no respect for the fight he'd given him. Instead, Joffrey looked at him smugly and sneered before moving to his horse and Jon readied for his shame to be complete. Due to his pain, he saw things once more that were not there. A garland was offered to and accepted by Margaery Tyrell. His betrothed smiled beamingly at the prince who'd crowned her and the crowd hushing as the full extent of what Joffrey had done was laid bare.

It was not Margaery who Joffrey rode to, however. Instead, he rode to but then past where Margaery sat, much to her relief, and to where his cousin sat instead. Jon had left the tiltyard by then and so it was not until that night that he found out it was Cassana who Joffrey crowned. Not until he'd refused Margaery leave to enter his room and to see how badly injured he was or to show her concern for him over that injury. The imagined hurt he felt over believing she'd accepted Joffrey's crowning of her only added to by the real hurt he felt over his injury. Both of them made him long to leave this keep and these lands behind and return to those of his mother.

Jon found he needed Ashara's counsel and comfort more than anything else in the world at that point. So he resolved to leave as soon as he was able.

Storm's End 296 AC,

Cassana Baratheon.

Her cousin confused and confounded her. Joffrey was incredibly handsome and everything a prince should be and yet something was lacking at times. He wasn't the most chivalrous of people and if anything he was overshadowed in this area by some of the other competitors in the tourney. Jon Stark, Loras Tyrell, and even her uncle Renly all proved themselves more knightly than the prince of the Seven Kingdoms was, or so it seemed. No matter that only two of the three she'd mentioned were actually anointed knights, nor that the other was a supposed heathen from the savage North. It was they, and not the prince who Cassana had set her heart on, that acted how she wished Joffrey would.

From Jon Stark presenting her with a most beautiful present and then asking her to dance when Joffrey had instead asked the Rose of Highgarden. To her uncle Renly, who came to seek her favor when once again Joffrey ignored her. Cassana had almost wept at that and would have if Joffrey had again sought out Margaery Tyrell. This time he hadn't and instead Cassana had almost swooned when Jon Stark rode to his betrothed and had her favor tied to his arm.

During the jousting itself, she had at least worn a smile when Loras Tyrell placed a golden rose in her hand. The Knight of Flowers as people had dubbed him had come to Cassana on his second tilt and she'd not begrudge him going to his sister on the first. For even Princess Myrcella had to wait until the third tilt to receive her own golden rose. As for Joffrey, he barely paid her any attention during the jousting, though he did at least make up for it during the night's feast and was most attentive as he sat beside her. He even asked her to dance first and then more than once, much to her delight.

It was when she'd heard that he'd gone for a walk with Margaery Tyrell that Cassana gave in to her tears. Her sobbing was enough to bring her mother to her room and while she was offered comforting words that made some sense, Cassana was unsure if she believed them or not. Her mother told her that boys could be most silly at times and they did things that were not for the reasons you may believe them to be. Something that Cassana worried about as she spoke of the things Joffrey had done with her and named them the same as those her mother spoke of.

"No, Sweetling. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you that his actions are true. I see it not when he looks at the Rose of Highgarden and if anything I believe it simply to be a way to rile up Jon Stark." Her mother declared.

"For why would he do such a thing, Mother?"

"Why, to give him an advantage in the jousts should they meet."

Cassana understood it not. Why would Joffrey need an advantage and to seek one was that not cheating? So she did what she normally did when she had a question she wished not to bother her mother and father with. She sought out the one man she knew who'd answer her true and found Ser Davos watching over one of the morning spars. The Onion Knight offered her his warmest smile as he always did when he looked her way.

"Why, if it isn't the Lady Cassana, come to brighten up an old knight's dull day."

"Ser Onion Knight." Cassana smiled back at the man she knew her father thought most highly of.

"And what brings you here this morn, my lady? Is it to see your brother prove himself ever more capable with a sword in hand?"

Cassana turned to look where Ser Davos was pointing, her eyes soon finding Steffon as he was put through his paces by her Granduncle. Davos' words proved true, given what she could see of her brother's movements and stance.

"I had not thought to find my brother here, Ser, yet it pleases me to see him show such skills."

"Give him a few years and he'll challenge any man, my lady. So if it was not your brother, dare I say it was me you sought?"

"It was." she said softly, "I have some questions that I seek answers to, Ser, could you put my mind at ease?"

"Always, my lady."

Davos both did and did not. While he said it wasn't entirely chivalrous to try and gain an advantage in a joust, it was something that most who competed did or would try to do. That given his father was watching on and cheering Prince Joffrey, it could probably be that and that alone that put the extra impetus on the prince to win. Given that Davos named Jon Stark and Loras Tyrell among the stiffest of the competition, it did make some sense to Cassana that Joffrey would try and do all he could to rile Jon Stark up as her mother had said.

Yet as she watched Joffrey beat Loras Tyrell, as she then found out the man he was to face in the semi-final had forfeited, it left her with an odd feeling welling up in her chest. Hearing that Jon Stark's semi-final opponent too had to forfeit relieved that somewhat and allowed her to simply give in to the excitement that the final tilt brought. That excitement soon gave way to worry as both Joffrey and Jon Stark were unhorsed.

"He's hurt, I must go to him." Margaery Tyrell called out.

"You cannot, the tilt has not yet been decided." Cassana heard the Rose of Highgarden's father reply.

Cassana looked from one to the other and then back to the field. She, like others in the crowd, was unsure what to make of it when Joffrey called for his sword and bid the match to be settled on foot. Yet, Jon Stark too called for his sword rather than yield. The fight between them was even and yet of the two, only one was uninjured. Jon Stark favored his off arm and held his other close to his side and when Joffrey caught his shoulder, the loud pained cry was heard by one and all. Margaery Tyrell again moved to try and go to her betrothed and Cassana could only imagine that she'd wish to do the same if she was in the older girl's position.

The end came after a rather long fight. Jon Stark had acquitted himself well but Joffrey prevailed and as the one went in search of a Maester, the other mounted his horse and rode to where the garland was laid out. Cassana had her heart in her mouth as Joffrey turned and rode to the stand. A worry began to rise deep inside of her that he'd ride by her and present it to someone else. Her brief look at where Margaery Tyrell was being comforted by her mother and father showed who she feared most as a rival. Yet, Joffrey rode not to the Rose of Highgarden and Cassana was soon smiling beamingly.

"Lady Cassana, I would name you Queen of Love and Beauty, and would dare say that never has one deserved a crown so much."

"I…I thank you, my prince, truly." Cassana stuttered, smiled, and then took the garland before placing it on her head.

Around the stands claps rang out and people cheered loudly. Beside her, her mother looked on proudly and her father wore one of his rare smiles. Her granduncle, uncle, grandfather, and brother, all seemed as happy as each other at the sight of her wearing the garland and Cassana almost vowed to never take it off.

She cared not when Margaery Tyrell rose to her feet and made her way to wherever her betrothed was being treated by the Maester. Nor that some in the crowd still worried over Jon Stark's condition and scowled at the prince for not caring for it. Cassana was so caught up in the emotion of being crowned that she had forgotten her disquiet over the fact that Joffrey hadn't worried about his opponent at all.

In truth, she was barely able to contain her happiness. Ever since she had been crowned by her cousin, Cassana's mouth hurt her from smiling way too much. She might look like an idiot as her aunt Cersei said, but even the queen's barbs couldn't diminish her joy.

He chose me. Not Margaery, me.

She truly had felt bad for Jon Stark at first, when he seemed badly injured, though she completely forgot about it when Joffrey rode to her with the garland of wildflowers to crown her. Only when the Lord of Winterfell did not come to the feast that night had she asked her father about his well-being.

"He was badly injured, the Maester said," Stannis said simply. "The fall from his horse dislocated his shoulder."

"Oh, no! That must have hurt a lot!" Cassana exclaimed, horrified.

"He should have yielded the moment he realized this. Anyone could see he could not fight. Well, anyone apart from Joffrey, apparently." her father said, his somber face making her frown.

"Why hadn't he?"

"Sometimes a man's pride forces him to push past the pain. I am happy that Joffrey won, especially since he crowned you as he should have, yet I must admit that I admire the other lad too."

"You cannot be serious?" her mother scoffed. "You would sympathize with a boy who would have crowned another?"

"Stannis always had a soft spot for bastards and lost causes, Cat. You know that well." Robert Baratheon declared loudly, joining in the conversation.

Cassana tensed as she saw her father do the same when the King laughed out loud to his own jape.

"Indeed, Your Grace, though I would remind you that it is your bastard that I have taken into my care?"

"Now is not the time to talk about Edric. We are celebrating my trueborn son's astonishing victory today!" Robert boasted louder. "A true champion, like his father, that one!"

Cassana could see her father wished to say something, yet her Uncle Renly's shake of head prevented him from doing so.

"A Baratheon through and through, one worthy of being knighted and it been done right now!" Robert added, standing up to everyone's surprise and shock. Joffrey's most of all, Cassana would wager.

"Father, are you…"

"Kneel, my son." Robert cut Joffrey off and Cassana's heart leaped as she realized what would happen when the King took Jaime Lannister's sword. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. And in my own name, I charge you to honor our family words and to bring Fury to those wanting to harm the Crown that shall be yours one day."

Joffrey seemed too caught up in the emotions of the moment to answer right away, but Robert did not seem to notice.

"Arise, Ser Joffrey of House Baratheon. My son who made me the proudest I've ever been up to this very day. He has earned his spurs truly, as well as the title of Prince of Dragonstone, and becomes now a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!" Robert declared, his smile echoing Cassana's own as she applauded with fervor.

"I… I thank you, Father."

"Thank yourself, Son. Your victory today has shown your worth. Now go, enjoy the rest of your night with your queen of love and beauty."

Joffrey nodded and stood up, instantly going to her side and asking her for a dance. A dance she would certainly not refuse, for she had waited long enough for this moment.

She had been crowned by a knight. And now Joffrey had been claimed as the true heir of the Crown. This day will be remembered for years to come, and Cassana felt she was the main character in this tale for once. A look at Margaery Tyrell showed her how jealous her rival felt, her poise was stiff and the hushed conversation with her brother let the crowned lady know none of them were happy.

Serves them right.

Margaery had thought coming closer to Joffrey would open doors for her, instead, it let everyone see her real self and Cassana was happy Joffrey did not fall for that mummery. She had feared her cousin had taken leave of his senses when he spent all his time with the Rose of Highgarden, but it mattered not in the end.

"Come with me, cousin. I find myself getting bored with all the pleasantries." Joffrey said, surprising her, yet she could only nod as he brought her outside.

"Where are we going?"

"I want to see Jon Stark and inform him of my being knighted. And to make him congratulate you on being crowned as he should have done before going into hiding."

"This late?" Cassana gasped. "Couldn't it wait till next morn?"

"No, I won't let him look down on any of us anymore."

"He might be asleep, with some milk of the poppy. Father said he was injured."

"Even better!" Joffrey's dark chuckle made his cousin frown.

"That is not very knightly of you to do so."

"What do you know about knights?" he snapped, startling her, and suddenly the gallant Joffrey was gone, giving leave to his worse self. "That's right, you know nothing, you silly girl. Jon Stark has to show up and respect his betters."

"But Joffrey, he is –"

"Are you pitying the bastard right now? I thought you better than anyone would want to rub it in his face that you were the Queen of the day. After all, he led you on as much as his bitch of a betrothed did me."

"He didn't –"

"He offers you this… Monstrosity… As if he had the right to do so. dances with you to get back at me for doing the same with his Golden Rose, snubbing my sister in passing, and now he can't even face the fact that he couldn't crown the girl he was tied to nor the girl he fancied." the Prince spat.

"You think he fancies me?" she gasped in surprise.

"There would be no other reason for this outrageous gift, Cassana."

Cassana shook her head, utterly confused. Why was Joffrey acting like this? Why did he loathe Jon Stark so much? Part of her wished it was because of the attention the Lord of Winterfell gave her, as it would confirm an infatuation between her cousin and herself, yet the way he talked about Margaery too in his rant perplexed her.

"So you crowned me out of jealousy?"

"Do not be ridiculous. Why should I be jealous of him? He has nothing. Nothing that I don't have myself. And now I'm a knight and he isn't. I am better, you hear me? How dare you compare me to him?"

"I never did, my Prince. I know you're better than him. I've always known."

"Is that why you keep wearing that tasteless necklace, then?"

"You should have told me it bothered you." she retorted, promptly reaching to the necklace's clasp to take it off. "Had I known, I would have never…"

"Do not lie to me, you little whore." Joffrey retorted, tearing the sapphire necklace from her neck and making her yelp in pain at the violent gesture. "You like the attention, just like her. The little bitch played with me and refused me and now you show that you're all the same."

Cassana dearly wanted someone to move, to act on her behalf, and she felt disheartened when she saw that none of the guards on the scene were ready to do so. Even her own guards stayed silent while Joffrey released his fury on the poor jewels.

"Joffrey, you're scaring me. What are you –"

"What is the meaning of this? Why are you crying?" a voice called out.

Cassana tensed as she realized that their conversation was overheard, and she felt mortified when none other than Thon Greyjoy, her father's prisoner, came to her defense.

"'Tis nothing. Just a disagreement between the Prince and I." she tried to deny the argument's existence. Hoping by doing so that Joffrey would show himself the knight she truly wished him to be.

"Doesn't look like just a disagreement to me. He hurt you, Cassana."

"It's Lady Cassana to you, Squid. You better remember your place when you speak to the Prince's cousin." Joffrey sneered, putting himself before her as if protecting her when he was the one who had previously been hurting her.

"I am not talking to you, impostor." Theon spat, his eyes still on her, and for a moment the true worry and concern for her wellbeing that she could see in the man's gaze warmed her heart.

"What did you say?" Joffrey growled.

"Just stating the obvious, that you wouldn't be here parading with your newfound knighthood if you hadn't tricked your way into victory in the jousts," Theon replied, smirking.

"Oh, I see we have another Stark lover in our presence." Joffrey chuckled. "It seems everyone around here has an infatuation with the bastard. Tell me, do you resent me for beating your little boy love?"

"I did lose a bit of coin, unfortunately, but I knew I wouldn't get far when I saw your minions sabotaging the horses of your opponents."

Cassana gasped and stared at Joffrey in disbelief. Was what Theon was saying the truth? She had heard her Father's suspicions about foul play before, but surely Joffrey wouldn't be the reason for such a thing.

"I'll make you pay for these words, Squid!" Joffrey said, advancing toward the prisoner before halting. "What do we have here? Was that why you were skulking in the gardens, Greyjoy?" he then asked, his guards and her own moving their hands to their swords at the prince's raised hand.

"I was not skulking, I simply…"

"What's that in your hand? A letter? Is it from your treasonous father I wonder?"

"Father doesn't allow Theon to get letters, my prince," Cassana said, mishearing what Joffrey had said.

"Hostages deserve them not, my lady," Joffrey said before he moved to Theon. "Hand that over at once, I'll not have treason occur in front of my very eyes."

"'Tis not treason…."

"I said at once, Squid." Joffrey sneered.

What happened next occurred so fast that Cassna had little time to react. Joffrey moved to grab the letter from Theon's hand, Theon took a step back. Joffrey's guard grabbed the Ironborn Hostage and Cassana watched as Joffrey took the letter and then to her shock and Theon's anger, ripped it into pieces.

"There, that's what we do with letters for the sons of traitorous scum," Joffrey said and Cassana knew not what to do or say.

She was stunned, shocked even, and more so when she heard the loud grunt from the guard who held Theon. Then it seemed as if the world itself had stopped moving. The guard fell to the ground holding his stomach, Theon shouted some angry words and moved to strike Joffrey. Joffrey looked panicked and then moved to the side and Cassana felt a sting of pain upon her cheek as she was caught by Theon's fist. Her only saving grace was that she only took some of the force of the blow, as it was aimed at someone else and not her. Not that she thought so at the time as she fell to the ground and held her hand to her cheek.

"Why you, Guards! Guards! Arrest this fool now! NOW!"

Cassna was helped to her feet by her prince. Joffrey showed true and full concern for her and asked her if she could walk. She nodded that she could and listened as Joffrey told her that he would make sure that Theon paid dearly for daring to lay his hand on his Queen of Love and Beauty. Hearing such words was a boon to her heart and while they didn't make the pain in her cheek go away, they did allow her to somewhat ignore it for now.

"We speak not of the letter, Cassana, I'll not have him dare try to make up some excuse for his behavior, you understand?"

"I…"

"He needs must pay for his actions, trust me, I know how to ensure that he does. Follow my lead and repeat the words I use, and we'll see it so."

"I will…I will, my prince." Cassana said and the soft kiss that Joffrey placed on her unharmed cheek was one she welcomed with all she had.

So what if she needed to lie a little, Theon deserved his fate did he not? And her prince had bid her to do as he would, who was Cassana to deny him?

No, she'd see that Theon paid dearly for deigning to lay hands on her, as was her right as not only the lady of a Great House but the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

A/N: Almost there with getting things back up to date on this site. Up Next: Theon finds himself in a difficult spot as his actions have consequences. Jon recovers from his injury and distances himself from his betrothed. Margaery does all in her power to show her concerns and worries are true before a trial takes place and events are set in motion that may not be able to be avoided.