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.

23. After The Storm

Winterfell 296 AC,

Lord Benjen Stark.

For five days Benjen had been troubled and anxious. There had been no news from Jon since he'd left for Storm's End and it had gotten on his nerves. The mere thought of his nephew competing in yet another tourney worried him greatly. Benjen believed too that he could not trust Ser Symon nor Syrio to act in Jon's best interests, as their allegiance to his nephew's family clouded their judgment. He'd seen enough proof of this in the way they'd let him enlist in Highgarden's jousts without running it by him first.

They, as well as Meera, had covered for Jon and enabled him to act as he pleased and without regard for his safety. Although truth be told, Benjen now understood that nothing he would have said to his nephew would have deterred Jon from doing so regardless.

Looking out onto the sparring yard, he smiled sadly as he watched his daughter train with her older brother. Beth and Bran were as close as Lyanna and Benjen had been in their youth, and seeing them together always brought back memories of his older sister.

'If only Lyanna was here to set her son straight… he thought sadly.'

Before he had the chance to think further about his sister and to truly contemplate whether or not Lyanna would have indeed set Jon straight or instead mayhap encouraged him to be so reckless, Benjen heard footsteps behind him.

"You're brooding again," Barbrey said, pulling him out of his mood.

"I'm a Stark. Brooding is in our nature."

"Tell that to your sons." she scoffed. "They're rowdy and loud, wolf-blooded too, but broody is not how I would describe them. Though Bran seems to have become more serious lately."

"Any news from Storm's End?" he asked hopefully.

"That is why I came. Ser Symon sent a raven." Barbrey replied with foreboding.

"Not Jon?" Benjen frowned as he took the scroll from Barbrey before letting out an expletive after he'd read the words. "For Fuck's Sake! This is why he should have never been allowed to…"

"There are more pressing matters to consider here than our errant nephew, Benjen." She cut him off.

"More than Jon being hurt?" Benjen growled, feeling his temper rise.

"Read the rest of it." Barbrey's unyielding tone forced Benjen to calm himself enough to do as he was told.

Dread crept up on him as his eyes traveled to the last words written by his nephew's sworn sword.

"Lessons are done for now. Ser Rodrik. Jory. Meet me in my solar. You too, Brandon." he yelled, crumpling the paper in his hands.

"But Father, it was finally my turn –" Ben whined.

"You can spar with your sister." The Lord Regent pressed coldly, leaving no room for protest.

"Do we tell Asha?" Barbrey whispered as they walked hurriedly to the solar.

"Not until we learn more about the incident and how it's been reacted to."

"Her brother has been sentenced to the Wall. What is more to know about it than that? Do the circumstances of why that was so even matter?"

"How their father reacts to the news will," Benjen replied.

The meeting in his solar achieved little other than making Brandon worry even more about his cousin. Barbrey thankfully took it upon herself to assuage those worries and the ones that were soon to come from his other children too. Benjen's own were soothed somewhat by Maester Luwin speaking to him on shoulder injuries and how the recovery from them was handled. There was even a moment where Benjen felt an odd sense of comfort upon hearing that it would limit Jon's sparring and riding for a few moons at least.

What was less comforting was what Ser Rodrik said regarding the Ironborn. Theon Greyjoy may not have lost his head but his life as Balon's heir was now at an end. There would be no grandchildren born to Balon Greyjoy's last remaining son and so, in essence, his line would end with him. No matter the odds against him or the little chance of success, both Rodrik and Luwin agreed that Balon would not accept this as the end of things.

'What that means for us, I know not.'

Benjen left it to Barbrey to explain events to Asha. His wife was much closer to their Ironborn hostage than he was and he feared he'd speak the words badly. After sending ravens to Wyman and Wendel, informing them that there may be trouble brewing with the Ironborn and to ensure the Northern Fleet was best placed to deal with that trouble, Benjen's thoughts turned once more to his nephew.

To fight on after being knocked from your horse in a joust was not something that most did. He would have expected Jon to accept his defeat like a man and yet, it seemed he had not. That just didn't ring true to Benjen and so, just as with Theon Greyjoy's sentence, he felt there was more to Jon's defeat and injury than met the eye. It made him curse his nephew a little bit for his stubbornness. For not sending the raven himself and leaving it to Ser Symon to do so. Yet a moment later, Benjen was cursing himself for not realizing that Jon more than likely was in no condition to send the raven.

"How did she take it?" he asked his wife when she finally returned and joined him back in his solar.

"Better than our children did."

"They were upset?"

"Worried and you know full well that Bran and Beth haven't truly forgiven you for Jon's departure."

"And what of him?" he asked, defensively.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll get his own share of the blame upon his return."

"If he returns," he mumbled.

For once his wife let it go. Benjen was both happy and not that she did so. Instead, it was to talk of protecting the North and even somewhat to Bran's future betrothal that they turned to. The latter used to take both their minds off what Theon Greyjoy's sentencing may wring down upon them all. Should it come to war, another rebellion, then once the Ironborn were defeated again, Benjen would ask Wyman Manderly to have his family meet him in Winterfell upon their return. Wylis' daughter Wynafryd was now the best match politically given that Alys Karstark was betrothed.

"What irks you so?" Barbrey asked as she moved closer to him. Her fingers brushed over the crease in his forehead that showed he was deep in thought.

"Who says I'm irked?"

"Me, the Old Gods, this." she jabbed her finger softly into the crease and Benjen smirked. They both knew each other so well that it was hard to keep any secrets or thoughts to yourself for too long. Especially when they were ones that filled you with worries of some kind.

"Brandon and Wynafryd Manderly," he said, catching her by surprise.

"I had thought Jon and the possibility of war. But here my husband is close to having a conniption at the thoughts of our son being wed." Barbrey japed.

"It is the best match, is it not? I'm not wrong in thinking so."

"No, the Karstarks or the Manderlys are truly the only options. Bran may wish to wed someone who follows our gods and not those poncy southern gods. But Alas..." Barbrey chuckled.

"Am I wrong to wish him even more choice?"

"We never truly chose, husband. Our son, even less so. Bran is the future Warden of the North, he must wed for politics and hope he finds love with his wife."

"As did we."

"Aye, as did we." Barbrey kissed him.

It was three days later when the raven arrived from the Iron Islands. Dark Wings, Dark Words as the old adage went. Benjen shared them first with his wife before they then called Asha to see them both. Her mother had forewarned them of the second Greyjoy Rebellion and her worries for her daughter had brought up worries and concerns that neither he nor Barbrey had truly considered. Asha he knew would and so it was for the best if they spoke on those concerns sooner than later.

"You wished to see me, my lord," Asha said nervously. The young woman looked to Barbrey for comfort which was not there as of yet.

"We received a raven from your mother, Asha. One that speaks of her worries for you and informs us of your father's plans."

"My father's plans, my lord?"

"Rebellion, Asha," he said, far too firmly given the reaction he got. Asha immediately went pale and almost collapsed to the ground. Only by sheer strength of will was she able to stop herself from doing so.

Barbrey rose to her feet, glared at him, and then rushed to Asha's side. What words his wife said to the Ironborn Hostage, Benjen heard not. They seemed to comfort her some, however. As did the words he spoke once Asha had regained her composure.

"I know you fear what this means for you and I wish I could offer you some relief from that fear. I cannot. Whatever is to happen next is not mine choice to make. Lord Regent I may be, but it falls to the Warden of the North to decide how we react and act from here on in."

"But Jon is…"

"Aye, I know." Benjen looked to the window and though the raven that flew past it was one heading to one of their Bannermen in the North, its symbolism wasn't lost on him.

Later that night, he ordered the raven to be sent to Starfall and stood in the Maester's Chamber as Luwin did just that. That it fell to this to bring Jon back home was not as unwelcome as it should mayhap have been. Benjen needed to speak to his nephew. They needed to put their issues behind them and move forward. He may not like the path that Jon had chosen to walk, but it was never meant to be a path he'd walk alone.

'I need to fix things. I will fix things.'

"When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

Highgarden 296 AC,

Willas Tyrell.

Willas loved his family. Truly and with all his heart, he loved every single one of them. His grandmother despite her plots and her intent to see them Grow Strong no matter the cost, he loved her truly. He loved his father and his mother. The one he could find no fault in, while the other, despite his at times oafishness, did all he did with the best intentions. Garlan and Loras, who regardless of their wish for adventure and renown above all else, Willas would change for no other brothers. While thoughts of his sister would bring a smile to his face far more than it would a frown. Even if at times Margaery's behavior, actions, and attitude vexed him greatly.

Yes, was anyone to ask him the question, then Willas' response would be immediate and true.

"I love my family." he smiled before adding. "But by the gods is it not so much more peaceful when they are away and I'm left to rule alone."

It was a somewhat wicked thought. Especially considering that there was very little actual ruling for him to do. Most of their Bannermen had gone to the tourney at Storm's End, so there were few if any disputes for him to get involved in. His grandmother had traveled to visit his aunt in the Arbor and so whatever issues House Redwyne may have, he'd only get to hear about much later. As for his grandfather, never did Lord Leyton seek too much help from House Tyrell to remedy any problems that may arise.

"Other than mine aunt." Willas sighed.

With his family away and with little true work to be done, Willas was able to indulge in his passions. He had two mares that were soon to birth new foals. A few new baby hawk chicks that required his attention and the general running of the keep and counting of his family's coin to keep an eye on. So the days passed quickly and Willas relished the peace and tranquility that being alone afforded him. It was not a peace that was to last long, however. Nor was his solitude. Three arrivals were more than enough to make that so.

The first was his grandmother's early return and in truth that was because of the second. Willas was stunned and worried to be informed that his grandmother's party had returned two weeks earlier than they were meant to and he scrambled to make sense of it. Worries about his father, mother, brothers, and sister forced him to make haste to Maester Lomys' chambers to ensure he'd not missed some missive or message. Relief coursed through his veins when he found he'd not.

"Grandmother?" he asked with an eyebrow raised when he greeted her upon her arrival.

"Not here," she whispered when he hugged her softly. The words only increased Willas' concerns.

No matter his limp or his grandmother's age, both of them made their way quickly to the solar that his grandmother had taken for her own. It was not the same one that Willas had been using since she had set out for the Arbor and so it was still exactly as it had been left. Food and wine were both sent for and Willas barely waited until his grandmother had taken her seat before all but demanding to be told what in the seven hells was going on.

"Mother, Father? Has something happened to Garlan or Loras? Is my sister unharmed?"

"Hush child, 'tis not to do with others in our family that has hastened my return."

"Then what has, Grandmother?" Willas asked irritably. Surprised by the fact that he faced no pushback for doing so.

"A letter was given to me in the Arbor. One sent from Dorne."

"House Martell?" he asked before his grandmother's earlier words hit home. "House Dayne," he said to a nod of his grandmother's head.

"Your future bride travels to Highgarden and will arrive by week's end."

Willas all but fell into his chair. They'd made the offer and yet he'd not heard it had been accepted. Finding out it had brought up feelings in him that left him uncertain. Taking but a moment, he felt his resolve come over him and looked to his grandmother who was watching him closely.

"We should make preparations for Lady Allyria's visit then. I'll ensure the guest wing is more than ready for her and her accompaniment." His words earned him one of his grandmother's proud smiles. Soon it was gone from her face, however, and talk turned to the betrothal, wedding, and his future wife.

"You are happy with the match?"

"Whatever it takes for our House to Grow Strong, Grandmother. I live up to that as much as any of our family do."

"Indeed. And yet I would see you know some joy too, grandson."

"Then I will do all in my power to see that is so, grandmother."

"Has there been word from Storm's End?"

"Other than they arrived and are well, none at all, grandmother."

"How long has the tourney been taking place for true?" his grandmother asked.

"A few days, I doubt even one of the events has taken place as of yet."

"Then we'll have to wait and see."

"Your own journey?"

"Less fruitful than I would have wished and over far too soon. No matter, we have work to do, do we not."

"We do, grandmother." he smiled, rising to his feet. "'Tis good to have you back." he half lied.

It was not the end of the week that saw the arrival of Allyria Dayne, but two days after his grandmother's return. Willas alone out of his family there to welcome her to what would be her future home. His grandmother had begged off this part of things at least and Willas believed she wished him to be free to judge the girl he was to marry, and her him, without their first meeting being judged by the Queen of Thorns. Some ladies would wilt under that pressure and for some reason, his grandmother wished for Lady Allyria to be spared initially at least.

Looking at the true vision of loveliness that stood in front of him, Willas felt himself lost for words. With her long dark hair, violet eyes, and tanned skin, Allyria looked much like her older sister. There was a curiousness in those violet eyes as they looked him over, as he was her. One that boded well for their future, for Willas, couldn't see any hesitation or doubts even when those eyes looked at the cane he carried. A soft smile, a welcoming of his kiss to her hand, and then an acceptance of the offer of his arm, were all given to him. Even the conversation they shared was pleasant as they walked together. Allyria not seeming to be put out by how slowly they did so, if anything she seemed to welcome it.

"Your home is incredible, Lord Willas. The lands of the Reach are so full of fragrance and wonder." Allyria said, her voice light and pleasant to his ears.

"No doubt I would say the same about your own, Lady Allyria. And please, call me Willas."

"Willas," she said softly, almost tasting the words on her lips and seeming to enjoy it somewhat. Enough to say it again as she bid him name her Allyria. "Only if you name me Allyria, Willas."

"Allyria," he replied. He too enjoying doing so.

They spoke on little and yet not once did the conversation falter. Willas sensed some reluctance on Allyria's part to them saying their goodbyes for now, but he did earn a smile by saying that once she was refreshed, he'd be delighted to show her around the keep.

"I shall hold you to that, Willas."

"Be sure to do so, Allyria."

Walking to his grandmother's room, Willas did so with many thoughts of getting to know his bride better. Whatever nerves he felt had left him by the time they'd reached Allyria's room. He was still unsure about being wed, but that was simply that he'd not been certain if he would ever find someone who'd accept him for a husband. True there were many ladies who'd wed the heir of Highgarden, but few who would do so with any joy that he was that heir. Fewer still that his grandmother would deem worthy enough to be matched with him.

Allyria was certainly not among the latter. As Willas knocked on his grandmother's door and entered the room, he found himself hoping she was not the former too.

Over the next few days, he found that whatever doubts he had about his future wife, they were only the doubts he'd have had about being wed and all it meant, and that he had none about the lady herself. Allyria was charming, smart, and witty too. They'd walked around the grounds of Highgarden together and spent time in Highgarden's library. Willas was more than happy to find that his future bride had a thirst for knowledge that matched his own.

She'd been astounded to see him with his hawks and had even come to the birthing of the two foals, one of which he had offered her as a gift which earned him a true smile from Allyria Dayne. Not even his grandmother could find fault in the woman he was to wed. Willas may have not been there when Allyria was poked, prodded, and challenged by the Queen of Thorns, but he did know that she'd passed that test with flying colors. As it seems he had when Allyria confided in him that she was not a maiden true.

"I have a confession to make, Willas. One I know not if it'll change things between us or not but one I feel must be spoken on."

"You can speak to me about anything, Allyria, I hope you know that." he offered her a warm smile.

"Dorne is not like other lands as well you know. What we do there is at times unconventional and frowned upon when it comes to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Rare is it when a lady stands before the man she is to wed and still has her maiden's gift to offer him."

"I am aware of such," he said, before realizing where the conversation was headed and feeling the need to stop it from fully going there. "I care not for anything that happened before we met, Allyria. What either of us did before we speak our vows in front of the gods, matters not."

"I…"

"It truly matters not," he said firmly.

The tale was told to him even though he wished not to hear it. Promises had been made but they were ones that were very much not kept. Allyria was at pains to make it clear that she had lain with but one man and had done so because she'd believed the honeyed words that came from his lips. Willas allowed her to speak her words, or in truth, he could stop her not. Once she had done so and he saw just how much of a toll it had taken from her to do so, he offered her the comfort of his arms and they ended up sharing the first of what he looked forward to being many kisses.

Again he reiterated that she was no lesser in his eyes because of what she and Cletus Yronwood had done and though he said it not, he would have let her know that had it been more than one man she lay with, it still would have made no difference. Not only because of who she was, who her sister was and so who the man her sister named as his son truly was, but because he was beginning to have feelings for the woman he held in his arms. Willas knew too that the chance of a Lady of Dorne being a maiden was much lesser than that with a Lady of the Reach, West, or even the North. Things were done much differently in Dorne.

'Seven hells even one of its princes had a paramour and seven bastard daughters.'

Willas knew too that his grandmother was either already aware or suspected that Allyria Dayne had given up her maidenhead already. His father may not be so forgiving should he find out, but the fact that his grandmother cared not, was further proof that he was in the right on this. As for his feelings, in the end, it mattered not to him one way or the other. Maiden or not, if he had no feelings or attraction to the woman he was to wed, it would still be a wedding that he'd undertake. His family's needs came above his own and so he was more than happy to find that in this they were aligned.

"You like the girl?" his grandmother asked as they sat in her solar.

"I do, grandmother."

"Good."

They were the only words spoken on how he felt about the match. Other than that, he was left to enjoy his time getting to know his future wife, and the days passed by most quickly and enjoyably. Until they very much did not. The arrival of his father, mother, brothers, and sister, threw the keep into an uproar of sorts. Margaery seemed to be in a state of despondency. His father was pensive and his mother worried, which was only added to by his grandmother's rush to get to the bottom of all that had happened. Something that Willas too needed to do and which brought him and his brother almost to blows.

"What do you mean he spoke to her so harshly?"

"He was not himself, brother. The injury, the Maester's draughts. I know Jon and he was not himself."

"You're sticking up for him. Him who upset our sister so."

"Our sister needed to be upset. The Seven know I tried to make her see sense and to dissuade her from the folly her actions were leading to." Loras snapped back. "Like it or not, Marge needed this. Best it happened now and not after she'd done something that could not be forgiven."

"Forgiven! Forgiven! Who is Jon Stark to forgive my sister anything."

"The man she is to wed, Willas."

He'd argued with his grandmother after that. Both over how Jon Stark had acted towards his sister, even if deep down he probably knew that some of it was deserved, and over the fact that they'd kept her in the dark too long. His grandmother refused to accept any blame for the latter and said that it was just as well they had or Margaery may have told the Baratheon's by now. Willas believed that she very much would not have, and yet he couldn't be certain.

Either way, it stopped not his anger from rising whenever Jon Stark was mentioned. So much so that it led to the first argument between him and Allyria Dayne. His betrothed put him firmly in his place and named him a fool for daring to call her cousin uncaring.

"There is none in this world that cares more than Jon. None." Allyria said angrily before storming off.

His apology was thankfully accepted. The ravens flew from Highgarden to Starfall bearing a message from his grandmother and from Allyria to Jon Stark wishing him a speedy recovery. Willas offered his own small thoughts on the injury that Jon Stark had suffered in the joust and just speaking the words led to him and Allyria then speaking on his injury.

"True it's stopped me from doing much of what I may have, yet I'd not change my life for another."

"May I say something that may seem odd at first? That may seem harsh or unkind but is very much not."

"I…"

"Would you let me finish before responding?" Allyria asked, smiling at him, and Willas nodded.

"I'm glad you suffered your injury." he gasped. "Had you not then you would already be wed and I much rather the fact that you are not."

"I…As do I, Allyria."

He spoke the truth. There was a spark at least between them. Something to build on and Willas had never felt that spark with anyone before now. Mayhap he'd never allowed himself to.

The Water Gardens 296 AC,

Ellaria Sand.

Ellaria was known for her gentle heart. She was of a few in Dorne, if not the only one in the Martells' circle not to blame the Daynes for their position in the Rebellion. She knew that the matters of the heart were not something that could be explained rationally. After all, she has been Oberyn's paramour for years and never once complained about him not marrying her, even though she would love to be his wife. Yet, she knew she couldn't put a leash on a viper, nor would she desire to. So she never faulted Ashara's loyalties, for the woman was put in an impossible situation all in the name of love.

She never hated Ashara's son either. If anything, she would pity the lad, for Jon Stark too was in an uncomfortable position, given his family ties. To be accepted as the future ruler of the North without being seen as too heavily influenced by his maternal side, he had to be separated from his mother at a young age. Yet the boy visited Starfall the first chance he got to travel South, so his bond with Ashara could not be questioned. This was endearing in Ellaria's eyes, but very much not her paramour's.

Oberyn hated Ashara Dayne with a passion. He could and would never forgive her for being a Stark lover, and his hatred of the woman and her brother Arthur ran so deep that it tainted the rest of the Dayne household. No matter how innocent young Allyria and Edric were, should their fate be left to Oberyn's, not even exile would be granted to them. It had taken years for them to be allowed to spend time in the Water Gardens, and only because Doran had willed it so when his anger had subsided after Ashara's return. Oberyn's older girls had been tasked with befriending Allyria, whereas Edric had begun to strike a true friendship with Trystane and, strangely enough, Elia and Obella. Ellaria's two terrors loved sparring with the young Dayne, as he was one of the few boys outside of their kin not to hold back while fighting with them for fear of reprisals from Oberyn.

She should have known something was amiss when her paramour suggested they were to visit Starfall. Allyria Dayne had been set to come to the Water Gardens after her nephew's visit at Starfall, yet when the boy left for Baratheon's tourney no raven arrived to let them know she was on her way. Nor even after enough time had passed so she could easily have made the journey, had they seen sight nor heard sound of the girl.

"You truly worry about the girl?" Ellaria had asked, stroking her paramour's chest after their coupling, on the way to Starfall.

"I could care less about Allyria Dayne. My brother, however, thinks she could be of use."

"How?"

"Well, she seems to hate her sister and nephew as much as we do. She also hates the Targaryens, would that be enough to forget who she was affiliated with…"

"And how would it help our cause?"

"She can feed us information. About the dragons' whereabouts and what Rhaella is planning."

"You're meant to use her against her kin?"

"We're meant to right the wrongs done to our House. To my sister. If Allyria Dayne can help with that, willingly or not, so be it."

Ellaria had felt put out by Oberyn's callousness. She had known him for years and had been charmed by his temperament as well as his charming looks, yet his attitude towards the Dayne children had always been contentious between them. To blame children for the sins of their parents was not something she could ever bring herself to do. It irked her that Oberyn managed to easily do so.

The people traveling with them too made her frown. Ellaria knew very well that there was no love lost between the Yronwoods and Oberyn, yet Ser Cletus asking for a place in their procession and her paramour accepting graciously felt too much of a coincidence. Doran wanted to use all the weapons he had at his disposal so that Allyria Dayne would remain under his thumb. Her infatuation with Cletus, who was deliberately fooling around with the Dayne girl, had been known by all in the Water Gardens. Arianne, Tyene, and Obara were traveling with them as well, and Ellaria had no illusion about the fact they would have been missioned by their fathers. As for her own daughters, Elia had demanded to be allowed to go and Ellaria had smiled at her forcefulness before giving in and bringing her with them.

Not that she would have a say in the way they were ruling their lands. She might not be treated as a bastard by Doran, but she knew her place in the family. Not a true member, still considered as one as long as Oberyn said so. It was enough for her, as long as they never separated her from her babes. Even if this journey was doing so temporarily with her youngest girls.

In truth her situation was comfortable. She had what any highborn lady possessed. The luxury, the recognition among Doran's bannermen, yet part of her always dreaded the moment Oberyn would get tired of her. Not even the fact that they had four children together had secured her fears, as she saw Oberyn's former lovers and mother to his eldest children being discarded and then banished from their lives. Tyene may still have some ties with her mother, but the same could not be said about Sarella nor Obara, whose mother drank herself to death when her child chose to follow her father's path.

The atmosphere at Starfall had been tense, to say the least, upon their arrival. Ashara was as diplomatic as ever, welcoming them as the Lady of Starfall while her brother didn't hide his discontent when Oberyn completely ignored her polite words.

"I see that Starfall is ever-growing. We thank you, Lord Vorian, for hosting us."

"Not that we would have a choice in the matter. You are, after all, the Prince of Dorne. Your brother and you are free to rule over our lands however you see fit. Though I wonder why you brought Ser Cletus with you." Vorian bit back, making Ellaria uncomfortable and Oberyn seemingly put out by the Lord's attitude, for the Lord of Starfall had always been the most agreeable one out of the Dayne siblings in their youth.

"He happened to be at the Water Gardens with Quentyn when we set our travel plans," Oberyn explained nonchalantly.

"How convenient." Ellaria believed she heard Vorian mumble. "And what brings you to our lands, Ser Cletus?"

"I… I missed seeing Starfall and the beauty of the Torrentine." Cletus added with a big smirk on his face.

"I see. Well, as my sister said, you are welcome in my keep. Starfall is yours until your departure, Oberyn." Vorian said, Ellaria not missing the tone and the lack of honorifics used by the Lord.

It was the subject of their conversation when they were alone a short while later. Oberyn was amused by it while she was very much not.

"So Vorian does have a backbone!" Oberyn japed as they settled in the room given to them.

"There is only so much a man can take when his family is disrespected so blatantly," Ellaria replied.

"Disrespected you say? They should be honored that a Prince of Dorne deigns to come here, given their known allegiances." Oberyn scoffed.

"They know that you acting as an envoy for Doran is more of a slight to them than a reward. You never hid your hatred of Ashara and Arthur –"

"With good reason –"

"And you snubbed her when she welcomed you earlier."

"I am not here to cuddle Ashara Dayne."

"Yet she is part of this family, whether you like it or not, and given her older brother's reaction, I believe you ought to at least acknowledge her so as not to vex Vorian more than you already did."

"You're right, my love. As always." Oberyn sighed after contemplating her words. "I am not here to wage war against them, so I will… tame my temper for the duration of our stay."

"And whatever frustration you feel about any of them, I suggest you take it… On me…" she said, looking at him suggestively in a way she knew would affect him.

The feast that night was not a joyous affair. While Ashara treated Ellaria and the girls with warmth and decorum, Allyria's absence had been noticed by one and all. By Oberyn especially much to her chagrin.

"And where is your dear sister, Vorian? My daughter wished to spend time with her." Oberyn asked directly, making the man tense.

"Away." was Vorian's curt response.

"Away? She was meant to travel to the Water Gardens after your… nephew's… little trip to meet his mother."

"Is that why you're here? To bring her back with you?"

"Well we thought it would be a good opportunity –"

"Is that why you brought him here too?" Vorian spat, glaring directly at Cletus.

"My Lord, if I have offended you in any way, I –" Ellaria began only for Vorian to take a breath and offer up a smile. Albeit it one that reached his eyes not.

"'Tis a joyous moment. Long has it been since a Prince of Dorne set foot in this castle. Let us celebrate today, and talk about our… grievances… on the morrow." Vorian cut them off, ending his phrase by looking at the young knight, and Ellaria knew Cletus' stay in Starfall would be a short one.

It took the lad two days to leave and go back to the Water Gardens. Oberyn had saluted his tenacity, though she noted her paramour's respect for Vorian seemed to have grown in the meantime.

"He has much more restraint than I do." Oberyn pointed out.

"It doesn't mean he would stand idly by and watch his sister be toyed with."

"None of my girls would have given him any chance to play with their heart. And if they did, he would not be alive to tell the tale." he snorted, making her chuckle in agreement. "Still, it's unfortunate for the girl that neither Doran nor Anders want the match. She would be an asset to us. Have you seen the town? The harbor? Their ties to the dragons make them richer by the day."

"Mayhaps you should report this to your brother? A union with Ser Cletus will please Allyria greatly, and knowing Doran had intervened to make it so would bring her closer to you?"

"Ever the voice of reason, my love. I will discuss it with Doran when we get back."

Ellaria had been pleased to hear this. She always listened to Oberyn's rants when it came to political settings. Still, she had doused the flames of his anger multiple times when he needed a distraction and never tried to get involved in Dornish affairs. Yet they never agreed on the Daynes' case and Ellaria worried that should the Targaryens manage to restore their powers, then they in turn may suffer because of the way their staunchest Dornish allies had been treated.

So she believed and hoped that Oberyn would follow her advice for once. How foolish a thought that was.

Instead of suggesting a match between Cletus and Allyria, Oberyn went out of his way to stab her in the back. So much so that she was more wroth with him than she ever remembered because of it.

"Will you stop this nonsense and start talking to me?" he asked to no answer, Ellaria still seething on their way back to the Water Gardens. "As if making me look weak in front of Vorian didn't suffice, you're now doing so in front of my men?"

'I don't care about any of your men, let alone what Vorian Dayne thinks of you.' she wanted to reply but stayed silent, preferring a deadly glare instead of any words.

"We need to be seen as a united front, Ellaria."

'Which is why I didn't cause a scene in Starfall in the first place.' she almost argued.

"Vorian left me no choice but to agree to this."

"You're a Prince of Dorne. You're his liege. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken are your family's words." she snapped.

"Yet sometimes you have to give a little to lull your enemy."

"A little? You gave away my daughter!"

"I agree to let her foster there –"

"Without my consent!"

"I thought it would not come to that." Oberyn sighed, making Ellaria angrier.

"You said you were going to talk to Doran about a union between Allyria and Cletus Yronwood –"

"Even if Doran agreed to it now, Vorian would never let it happen."

"You didn't even try!" she insisted.

"I asked him to let Edric foster under my tutelage, and he refused!"

"That's what you get for rubbing people the wrong way!" she yelled. "And now my firstborn has to pay the price for your foul temper!"

"Elia is my daughter too –"

"You promised me you would never part any of my girls from me! That you would never use them as pawns in your brother's games!" she cut him off, the betrayal she felt was clear in her trembling voice.

"Ellaria…"

"I know you. You couldn't even look me in the eye when it happened. It was all planned, wasn't it? Doran told you to give away Elia should they refuse your offers, didn't he?"

"Do you prefer we betroth her to Edric Dayne? Is that what you want?" Oberyn replied, skirting away from the original question.

"So you don't want her tied to the boy, but you want her shipped to a distant and unfriendly place with no one to look over her?"

"They would not dare hurt her, Ellaria. And you've seen yourself how near impossible for us to get their household to talk to us. We couldn't find out where the girl traveled to no matter what we offered in return!"

"I never took you for a fool, Oberyn Martell. But you are one if you think you are playing them. They have the upper hand here, and you played right into their hands."

"So they think. Our daughter is resourceful, as are her older sisters, and I don't doubt she would find a way to serve her family faithfully when the time is right."

"A fool. A deluded fool. That is what you are, and I will be damned if I let you use my firstborn –"

"You have no choice, Ellaria. Your Prince commanded it." Oberyn spat before walking away, leaving her seething in anger.

For days she cursed them all: the Daynes, the Martells, the Targaryens. She cursed herself for being powerless and most of all, she swore on the Weeping Lady that she would never trust Oberyn Martell's honeyed words ever again, for he showed that moment that his were just as much wind as all the others that he hated with such passion.

King's Landing 296 AC,

Varys.

The songs his Little Birds brought him back from the tourney at Storm's End were ones that Varys saw both opportunity and fortune in. Prince Joffrey behaving how he did, the rift that had now developed between him and Jon Stark, and what had happened to Theon Greyjoy were all things that would benefit Queen Rhaella's cause. So Varys had been eager to have those songs sung in Braavos almost as soon as he'd listened to them in King's Landing.

Other songs he knew not how to take, however. Margaery Tyrell's actions were being painted in the most unflattering light for the Rose of Highgarden. So much so, that Varys began to wonder if the true flame that lit the spark of the dragon's return would be yet another broken betrothal involving a Wolf of House Stark. Shuddering a little, as the thought brought up his failures and what they had cost the realm three and ten years earlier.

His Little Birds had been quick to point out that while there was much gossip about Mace Tyrell's precious rose, there was little truth behind that gossip. Not that such a thing mattered, as betrothals had been broken for far less and so Varys played out what this one being broken would look like. He found he liked it not, especially now that the relationship between the House of the Stag and the House of the Wolf was as precarious as ever. Varys may doubt that Robert Baratheon would ever deign to see a Tyrell crowned or wed to his son, he couldn't rule it out though. Not completely. Especially not if it was simply the alliance that Robert was after and if indeed House Stark refused the call when it eventually came. No, he liked it not at all.

"And yet I'd liked not the match either." he tittered.

That was the truth of it. Varys had not seen the benefit of House Tyrell being joined with House Stark. Now, he very much did and so he wondered if other songs should be sung that named those who called Margaery Tyrell out for her actions as liars or elaborators. He would wait until his queen replied to his missives before deciding whether it should be done, however. As for the other things that needed to be done. On those, Varys had no need to wait.

Balon Greyjoy had been wroth to hear that his last remaining son was sentenced to the Wall. Whatever peace there was between the Iron Throne and the Iron Islands had been thrown away when Stannis Baratheon won the Trial by Combat. Death or a lifetime sworn to an order that allowed you to father no children, both brought the same result at the end of the day. The Line of House Greyjoy, at least concerning Balon, had been ended. For any child sired on a daughter would be looked upon much differently to any that came from a son's loins.

"They may as well have taken his cock." Varys laughed bitterly. In truth, it was not a sentence he'd wish on any man. Even an Ironborn Reaver.

Ships had been called back to port. Captains were right now huddled around small tables in smoke-filled rooms while three brothers plotted, planned, and readied themselves for war. Balon, Victarion, and Aeron would not be joined by their mad younger brother in this adventure, however. The Crow's Eye sailed far from Westeros and out of the sight of even Varys' little birds and their songs. Not that it mattered. Even with the architect of the Burning of the Fleet at Lannisport, elsewhere, the result would be the same.

'Or would it,' Varys wondered.

Would the Starks fully commit?

The Redwyne Fleet give up all its ships?

The Realm come together as truly as they did the last time Balon Greyjoy sought to run amok?

Then it had been completely the Ironborn's fault that the realm was plunged into war. Now, not so much. Or at least an argument could be made that Balon Greyjoy had good reason to rebel this time. Theon had been held hostage to his father's behavior, not his own. Some were bound to see it that way, were they not? Others would rally to the King's cause no doubt. Yet, Robert's actions on Driftmark had never truly been accepted or forgiven and it would give some pause too, Varys believed.

Running his finger across his lips, Varys tried to decide which would be better. The Realm coming out in force but doing so reluctantly or some Houses refusing or limiting their forces when they answered the call. For the former, it would truly depend on what punishment was imposed on House Greyjoy afterward. They may not be a well-liked or respected House, but Varys did not doubt that this time Robert Baratheon would end them completely. Which may cause some issues given why it was they were being ended. As for the latter. There were far more opportunities there and the only true question that needed to be asked was whether or not the queen was ready.

"It changes not mine own work nor the song I must now sing."

Walking from his chambers, out from the shadows and into the light, Varys held the words that would lead to war, clasped tightly in his hands. He spoke to no man, woman, or child and barely acknowledged anyone who crossed his path. The Spider's Mask was one he wore now for all to see and it would not be coming off his face until he was safely back amongst the comfort of his web.

Knowing that he must, it was to the Hand of the King that Varys made his request for a Small Council meeting. Jon Arryn that he bid to have the king attend. His words were cryptic and more than enough to get the Old Falcon to see they were followed up on. It was Pycelle, much to his surprise, who arrived first. The Grandmaester was out of the loop and Varys knew that his true master would soon have a raven heading his way. After Pycelle, it was the Mockingbird who took his seat and Varys looked not Petyr Baelish's way. Nor did he for the Master of Ships. Even the Hand when he took his seat. Instead, his eyes and all his true attention were focused on the door that the king would use and Varys almost smiled when Robert Baratheon entered.

"Now what caused such a pressing need for a meeting and took me from the sparring yard." Robert Baratheon asked loudly. Stannis looked at his brother with a look that spoke volumes of the distance between the two brothers. "Joffrey was knocking yet another squire on his arse and it was fucking glorious to see it," Robert added a moment later before Varys or anyone else could speak.

"Lord Varys." Jon Arryn nodded in his direction.

"Songs from the Iron Islands, your grace," Varys said, gaining the king's full attention.

"What foolishness has Greyjoy kicked up now?"

"Rebellion, your grace," Varys said, turning from the king to look at the other men there. Littlefinger barely paying attention, Pycelle almost taking notes. Stannis ground his teeth while Jon Arryn looked almost ashen-faced. As for Robert Baratheon, rarely had Varys seen a man so eager for war other than the Mad King.

"I want that ship stopped! Send a fucking raven to the Wall to make sure that Greyjoy fuck doesn't speak his oaths! I want his head sent to his father! Fucking Squids, I'll deliver it to him myself! You…"

"Your grace." Jon Arryn interrupted, but Robert was having none of it.

"No fuck that, Jon. I'll fucking grind them into dust before I'm finished with them. He wants a war, I'll give him a fucking war the likes of which he's never seen before!"

"Your Grace!" Stannis spoke loudly. "Whatever about the rights and wrongs of going to war with the Iron Islands, that time may be long past. Theon Greyjoy has been fairly sentenced, however. In the sight of Gods and Men, he was sentenced to serve the Night's Watch and for that to be changed, no, I'll not go along with it and I won't be the only one to say so."

For the briefest moment, Varys thought the brothers may come to blows. Robert wore a look that Varys would wager few had seen and lived to tell the tale about afterward. Had Jon Arryn not spoken, then the reign of House Baratheon may have come to an end that very instant. For none would follow a Kinslayer, especially when some already took issue with the man who sat on the Iron Throne.

"Stannis has the right of it, your grace. Theon's sentence was not only fair and just, but it was public too. To go against that now is to call into question the very fabric of the realm itself. The King's Law."

"And who is the king, Jon? Me is it not? I decide the laws in my lands, me, none else."

"Your grace, a moment if I may," Littlefinger said and all eyes turned to the Mockingbird. "While I believe each of us here can understand your wishes to make House Greyjoy pay for daring to challenge your rule again. Especially after you were most gracious to them the first time." Robert seemed to calm somewhat and Varys liked it not that it was because of Littlefinger's poisoned words that he did so. "The Lord Hand and the Master of Ships are right, your grace. Theon Greyjoy however is not his father's only child held by the crown."

"You cannot mean…" Stannis began only for Robert to laugh and laugh loudly.

"Very well, if I cannot have the son, I'll take the daughter's fucking head. Pycelle, Send word to Winterfell. Tell Lord Stark I wish the girl brought to me. I want her head mounted on the figurehead. Let it be the first thing her father sees before he feels the might of my hammer."

"Your grace…"

"No, I'll let the boy live, you've both made your arguments. None can be made for the girl, you hear me, None!" Robert was adamant and yet Varys saw a glimmer of an idea that he couldn't resist.

"The Starks, your grace. They'll not like this order." he began and though he needed to stare down Robert Baratheon's glare, he did so and did so quickly. His next words helped much in this regard. "Their way is the old way, your grace."

"Lord Varys?" Jon Arryn asked, confused. He, Stannis, and Littlefinger all not seeing what it was clear that Robert Baratheon now did.

"You have the right of." Robert turned to Pycelle. "Tell Lord Stark that the Greyjoy girl is to lose her head the morning after the raven arrives. Let Ned's Lad see her dead at their king's behest and after her head is removed, tell him to see it brought to me post haste."

"Jon Stark is but a boy, your grace." Jon Arryn gasped.

"All boys grow up when war comes calling, Jon. Ned and I did, and so too will Jon Stark and Joffrey when we put the Iron Islands to the sword." Robert smiled as if he was reliving some memory or other. "The moment the Iron Fleet attacks, we bring the full might of the Seven Kingdoms down upon them. Call the banners, war is upon us!" Robert laughed loudly.

Looking around the table, Varys could see the consternation that was shared by Stannis and Jon Arryn. The almost gleeful look that Littlefinger tried and failed to hide. Chaos always brought that out in The Mockingbird more than anything else and that alone was a worrisome thing to behold. Pycelle hurried from the room, eager to send a raven to Casterly Rock before one ever headed for Winterfell. The king may give them all their orders, the Grandmaester however would always follow the Old Lion's first and foremost.

As for himself, he had his own songs to sing and some would have far to travel. His Little Birds would need to be on full alert and what they found out had to be relayed to Varys most quickly. Momentarily he felt a pang of sympathy for Asha Greyjoy and even for the boy who would now be forced to take her head. Jon Stark had treated the girl well by all reports. To be forced to act in the King's Stead, to be asked to do so now after Storm's End, if that didn't make Jon Stark even less likely to answer Robert's call, nothing would.

"The great game is ever-changing. Let us begin once more."

Highgarden 296 AC,

Margaery Tyrell.

Her mother offered her words of comfort, and her arms when they were not enough and Margaery welcomed both equally. When it came to her father, never had she seen him look as he did as they traveled back from Storm's End. To name it worried or concerned would be to do her father's mood a disservice. It was far more than that and while he spoke only brief words to her and offered her his arms not, Margaery believed he fretted over her and so she was thankful for that.

Leaving Storm's End itself had been somewhat of a relief if she was being honest. Joffrey looked her way more than once and had it not been for her guards and her mood, Margaery feared she may not have been able to keep the prince from her company. Given what he'd attempted to do, or what she believed he may have attempted to do, Margaery was relieved greatly that there would be much distance between them. The King and Queen seemed to care not that they were leaving and while Lord Stannis spoke words of thanks to her mother and father for their attendance at the tourney, his wife's seemed less true to Margaery's ears. As for his daughter, Margaery was certain she saw a look of triumph on Cassana Baratheon's face when they said their goodbyes.

'Not that she begrudged the girl her victory or wished it for her own. Not anymore at least.'

Loras too was most friendly to her as they traveled from the Stormlands back to the Reach. Her brother offered her words that she longed to believe and yet could not. He named Jon Stark's actions as being those of a boy who was both recovering from an injury and who had been given too much Milk of the Poppy. Something that Margaery somewhat believed to be true. Yet, in her heart of hearts, she feared that there was more to it than simply that.

Mira spoke words that were almost the same as her brother's had been. These too were listened to if not fully agreed with. Even if they had been, the dreams that Margaery had at night would never allow them to be accepted fully. Only Jon Stark himself could make her do so and it seemed to Margaery that she may never get the chance to speak to her betrothed ever again. Her greatest fear as they neared Highgarden was to arrive to find a raven that bore the news of a broken betrothal. One that named and shamed her for her actions at Storm's End and had there been one when they arrived, it would have broken her completely. Thankfully there was not.

"We'll talk later, Sweetling, just you and I and I'll tell you some truths you should have been made aware of before now."

"I…."

"Rest up and speak to your grandmother not, Margaery. To me or your father first, is that understood?" her mother asked earnestly.

"It is, mother." Margaery felt the kiss on her forehead and the warm embrace that she'd come to rely on these past few weeks. So much so that by the time she reached her rooms, she missed them both.

Her grandmother did try to come and speak to her that night. Margaery however pretended to be abed and enough, there was no need for a mummery of either. She felt herself being tucked in by her mother and the words she spoke were of a promise of a conversation on the morrow. One that Margaery both looked forward to and feared with equal measure.

That night, she dreamt of a wedding that was not to be her own. Of standing and looking on as her grandmother fussed over Desmera and of seeing the smile on her cousin's face as she stood by the Weirwood Tree. She found herself calling out to Jon Stark as he passed by where she stood. Then shrinking under his glare as he looked her way and spoke to her in spiteful words. Words that he'd spoken to her when last they stood across from each other.

"Some Roses wilt in the North."

Margaery woke early the next morning to find that she'd shed tears as she slept. Her pillow was almost sodden with them and Margaery quickly hid it under some of the other ones when she heard the handmaidens at the door. After dressing, she was joined by Mira and Elinor and made her way to break her fast. The conversation stilted somewhat by the fact that Margaery answered only yes or no and contributed to it not.

Entering the Great Hall, it was to see her brother engaged in conversation with an incredibly beautiful young woman. Willas wore a look on his face that Margaery barely ever remembered seeing him wear before. Before she could even form the question of who this woman was, her grandmother beckoned her to join her, and Margaery, as she always did, moved to do as her grandmother had ordered. Only for her mother to somehow appear out of nowhere, take her by the arm, and lead her away from the Great Hall.

"Come daughter, we shall break our fast together." her mother said to a frown from her grandmother and then a withering remark.

"Alerie, I would have words with Margaery."

"They can wait, Mother, for mine own are of much more import."

Which of them was stunned the most, Margaery knew not. What she did know was that for the first time in days or even weeks, she thought not of Jon Stark nor Storm's End. Never had her mother shown even the slightest inclination to go against her grandmother's wishes. Not even in something as minor as denying her leave to speak to her the moment she wished to. It was all most strange and because of that, it was the only thing Margaery could think of as they walked to her mother's chambers.

Once they reached them, Margaery was stunned to find that her mother had no intent of allowing the breaking of their fast to be disturbed. She listened unsurely as her mother told the guards that by order of the Lord of Highgarden, no one was allowed to enter her chambers this morning. Not even the Queen of Thorns herself was to be given leave to do so and never had she heard her mother speak in such a firm and assertive tone.

Inside the room, though she asked questions about why they were eating here and not with her grandmother, her mother answered them not. Instead, it was talk of who the woman with Willas was. Lady Allyria Dayne had come to Highgarden and a betrothal between her brother and Jon Stark's aunt had been agreed upon. Margaery felt the smile come to her face unbidden only for it to quickly depart. The thought that it was instead Jon's aunt and her brother who'd be wed to join the two Houses together refused to leave her mind. So much so that she asked the question she truly feared the answer to.

"Has mine own betrothal been broken?" she asked, her voice shaky and her tears on the verge of being shed.

"Oh Sweetling, no, no, this has naught to do with that. House Dayne and House Tyrell are to be matched just as House Tyrell and House Stark will be."

"I…through me and Jon?" she asked worriedly. Remembering that Jon Stark had a sister that Loras was fond of. One whose favor he'd worn at the Tourney of Highgarden.

"Through my daughter and the man she is betrothed to."

The relief that swept through her was almost overwhelming. If only it was longer lasting. For her mother may very well wish the betrothal to be upheld, that meant not that Jon Stark still did. Or that his aunt and uncle would continue to agree to it after hearing about events at Storm's End. Mayhap this was why Margaery now broke down and named her actions as she did. Or mayhap it was that for the first time, Margaery truly felt able to put her concerns into words. Whatever the reason, for the next few moments, Margaery laid herself bare before her mother.

She named her actions as the folly they had been. Spoke of how those at Storm's End gossiped about her and how the words they said were most untrue. Margaery spoke of the truth of Prince Joffrey. Of what he'd tried to do, or what she believed he'd tried to do. Her mother listened to it all as she did so. Neither of them saw the bird standing on the ledge of the window. The small sparrow tilted its head as Margaery spoke on things she'd never spoken of before.

Some of those at least.

When she was finished, Margaery looked to her mother and awaited the condemnation and disdain that she felt she was due. Instead, she received only another one of her mother's soft kisses on her forehead. Then before she had a moment to compose herself, Margaery was bid to join her mother on one of the window seats. The sight of the small sparrow brought a true smile to her face as like her betrothed, Margaery had worried she'd never see the pretty little bird again.

"Some of what I am to tell you is what your father and I have been able to ascertain, Margaery. Your grandmother as always plays her cards far too close to her chest and so it's been left to your father and I to put some things together. To do enough that we know at least some of the truth of things."

"Mother?"

"You know who Jon Stark's mother is, and that she visited here some years ago." Margaery nodded at her mother's words and well remembered Lady Ashara Dayne's visit. How could she not, for even despite the nature of her son's birth, the lady herself was someone most fascinating to Margaery and the other young girls of Highgarden. Each of them had wished to see if Lady Ashara was truly as beautiful as she was claimed to be, and none of them had been disappointed when they had done so.

"We believe that the true nature of the visit was to discuss your betrothal with Jon Stark, that events that occurred from that moment on more than proved this to be so."

"Loras' fostering." Margaery gasped.

"That and how keen your grandmother seemed to be on a visit to the North."

"I had thought…"

"Oh the North had grown strong for true, Sweetling, and yet that alone would not have been enough to interest your grandmother. There was the matter too of a possible betrothal between your cousin and Jon Stark. One your aunt spoke to me about long before your own was brought up."

Margaery felt it then, the worry. The truth of her dreams had almost been laid in front of her and yet, a little voice at the back of her mind told her that she was wrong. That it had been her and not Desmera that the betrothal was agreed with and there had to be another reason for why that was so. A reason her mother was just about to speak to her about, was enough to keep Margaery from asking one of the multitudes of questions that swamped her mind.

"That betrothal may have made some sense. Given what your grandmother wished for you, what your father hoped for you…to see Desmera married to Jon Stark, would have been something that none would name as a bad match. And yet it was your hand that was sought, not your cousin's. Which begged the question why."

Margaery turned to her mother, wondering if it was as one of the times with her grandmother when a question would be asked to test her or to see if her insight matched that of the Queen of Thorns. This was not one of those times and her mother wished not to impart some lesson or other. Instead, it was simply truths that were being shared and Margaery much relished hearing them.

"Who does Ashara Dayne's brother stand beside? To whom does the Lady of Starfall owe her loyalty? Why would a match be sought with the daughter of a Lord Paramount rather than the daughter of the man with the largest fleet in Westeros." her mother asked the questions not. She simply stated them before giving the answers. "Rhaella Targaryen, Elia Martell and the Sealord of Braavos."

"Mother?"

"The Sword of the Morning is what he has always been, Margaery. A man of the White Cloak. Princess Elia was Ashara Dayne's truest friend and the House of the Dragon has no need of ships. Not when its matriarch is married to the Sealord of Braavos."

"I don't…then why would Jon and I….what would….who would…"

It came to her at once. Without the need for explanation and while it may not have been her mother's intent, it was what her words had led to. Rhaella Targaryen wished her married to Jon Stark. She wished it because if the North was joined by marriage with the Reach, truly joined, then the chances of them rising for Robert Baratheon were slim to none. Jon may be Eddard Stark's son, he didn't share his father's love for the Stag King, however.

But would that mean he'd join with the dragons?

And did that mean they would as well?'

The answer to the second of those things was most certainly. It had been House Targaryen who had raised them up and the Stag King loved them not. As for the first, Margaery wasn't as certain. However, at his mother's request and with his wife's family fighting on the side of the dragons, it was more than likely that the North would either fight against Robert Baratheon or at the very least, not fight with him.

Other questions were raised now, however. As in why her grandmother sought her not to be a Targaryen Queen.

"Why Jon and not Viserys, mother?"

"Because we dallied when we should not have, daughter mine."

"I…"

"Storm's End should never have been besieged, Margaery. It should have been the Trident that we marched to, had we done so…."

"So we are being punished?"

"Tested." her mother answered.

"And that's why it was no longer Prince Joffrey who was sought?"

"To be tied to the Stags is to court disaster, Margaery."

"Why wasn't I told, Mother! Why keep this from me!" she stood and spoke angrily, pettily mayhap, but she had already felt such a fool without now being told just how much she had truly risked with her actions. All she'd wished for was to help her family Grow Strong and she'd almost brought them to their weakest and most vulnerable point.

"Your grandmother plays her games, Margaery, as well you know."

"I would have…..I'd not have…."

She was embraced and held tightly to her mother's chest, and when the door opened and her father entered, Margaery ran to him to beg for his forgiveness. Not even being told she needed it not was enough to stop her from doing so. Margaery was unrelenting until her father spoke the words and then both he and her mother bid her to speak not on what she'd learned here this day. That her grandmother couldn't know that Margaery had been told what she had been.

"I promise, mother, father, I promise to hold my tongue," Margaery spoke truthfully. So what if she added 'For Now' under her breath.

That night at dinner it was hard to look at her grandmother and not offer her a glare for keeping her in the dark. Partly her mother and father too and as she looked to Willas, she wondered if her brother had been let in on her grandmother's plans. Loras she knew was not and that made her wish to speak to her brother about what she'd learned. Yet, she'd promised her mother and father and so she spoke on it not.

Angered though she was at her family, there was worry and disappointment enough to go around to quell much of that anger. She needed to go North. To visit the North and to see Jon Stark again. How she would manage it, Margaery knew not. What she was certain about, was that it was not because Rhaella Targaryen, Ashara Dayne, or her grandmother wished her and Jon Stark wed that she now very much did. Hurt as she'd been by the words he'd spoken to her, Margaery now truly believed they were as Loras had said. Her betrothed was a good man who'd treat her warmly, or he would be if only she showed him the truth of who she really was.

"I only need the chance to do so."

Starfall 296 AC,

Vorian Dayne.

Which of them had been hardest to have in his home was a question that Vorian had asked himself more than once. Cletus Yronwood had sought to shame his sister and then dared to come to Starfall as if his actions were unknown or that House Dayne would allow them to stand unchallenged. Yet, the simple fact was that Vorian could say and do almost all he wished to Andar's heir. Even should the father object to how the son was treated, it mattered not.

Unfortunately the same could not be said when it came to Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper was not only a man who would lash out if he felt he was being looked down upon, he was the brother of the Prince of Dorne. Oaths had been sworn to House Martell and so, even though Vorian now all but named the Snakes as enemies, he was forced to play nice. Something that having his sister there with him allowed him to do. Even if how Ashara had been treated by House Martell was not acceptable to Vorian. Nor, Vorian knew, would it be accepted by the boy who named her as his mother still.

In the end, Vorian had been mostly friendly towards Prince Oberyn and only showed the briefest moments of annoyance and disrespect. When it came to Cletus Yronwood, he'd shown naught but both of those things and he was happy enough to see the back of the cocky young lordling. Vorian was happier in the fact that he'd listened to both his sisters and that Allyria had traveled to Highgarden when she had. Both Oberyn and Ellaria had left him and Ashara in no doubt that they wished for their sister to return to Sunspear with them. Or that they wished his son to do likewise. An offer of fostering that he had quickly turned on its head.

"Not that I'd have ever allowed such a thing." Vorian chuckled.

It was not simply the thoughts of outmaneuvering Doran and Oberyn Martell that was the reason for his good humor. Looking on as Elia Sand showed she was as adept on a horse as any he'd ever seen had been enough to bring a smile to his face. One that was shared by his son as Ned had much enjoyed having someone close to his age to share adventures with.

"Whatsoever has you smiling so, Brother Mine," Ashara called out as she walked towards him.

"Them, they remind me of you and Arthur." he laughed a little more truly. "Though then it was swords was it not?"

"It was, at least until father would look our way." Ashara smiled as she mayhap now remembered those days as well as Vorian had just been doing.

Their father had been fooled not by how quickly Ashara managed to get rid of the sword. Vorian believed that it had brought him much amusement to see his daughter act in such an unladylike way. He believed too that it was only that for Ashara it was more about spending time with their brother than an actual interest in swordplay or their father's amusement would have been much lesser.

"Have there been more words from the tourney?" he asked, turning his attention from his son and new ward.

"Only that they have left and should arrive by week's end."

"And you worry over him still?"

"He is my son. I'll worry over him until the day I die."

Vorian knew that to be true and Ashara was not the only one who worried about what had happened at Storm's End. Jon's injury alone would have been enough to cause that. The issues between his nephew and the girl he was betrothed to, caused other worries to raise their ugly head. As too did the actions of the Crown Prince and what they had led to. War was now something that was not only on the horizon but whose sails could almost be seen.

'Ironborn Sails.'

Shaking the thoughts from his mind for now, Vorian turned his attention to other matters. Whatever form the war between Robert Baratheon and Balon Greyjoy consisted of, it would be a war in which Dorne played no part. Whether or not the Dragons would, he knew not and he was about to ask Ashara had she received any word from the queen, when he noticed she no longer stood by his side and was in fact, walking some distance from him.

Vorian resisted the urge to chase after his sister and instead, it was to his solar that he made his way. A seat, some cool wine, and a handful of dates all allowed him to relax and concentrate on the correspondence that he had not yet caught up on. Sighing at the number of raven's scrolls, as well as the fact that the sigils on each of them were not from any House or person that he truly longed to hear from, Vorian, however, began to go about his work. Had his sister not come to his solar to tell him to make ready for their evening meal, then he may have stayed there all night.

"You work too hard, brother."

"There is much to be done, sister." he smiled back at her.

The truth of that statement was clear enough to both of them. Their increased trade and connection to the Dragons in Exile had garnered them much coin and even more envious glances. House Martell may bristle when it came to the Dragons, but Dorne itself did so only mainly for show, or so Vorian believed. For more than one House had hinted that they too would like to share in the bounty that a deal with Braavos and Lys would bring them.

For now, it was not to be. Not in that way at least. Instead, it was the setting up of a bank and the promises of loans that Queen Rhaella wished Vorian to offer his fellow Dornishmen. The first shipment of the coin to be used had arrived just this past week and even Vorian had been stunned to see 100,000 gold dragons placed in his vault. It had then led to what his true work now was. As well as the reason for why there were so many raven scrolls to be read. Loans were to be given out to those who it served House Targaryen and House Dayne best to see brought somewhat to their side. A difficult enough project to undertake even without the eyes of the Snakes looking their way.

"Food, brother," Ashara said firmly and Vorian chuckled as he rose and placed a kiss on his sister's cheek.

"I do so look forward to Jon's arrival. It'll be good for you to have someone else to order around, Sister Mine." he japed, ducking out of the way of a half-hearted slap aimed in his direction.

The shared meal they enjoyed had him again looking at Elia Sand and Ned more than once. Vorian was happy to see that it wasn't just in the yard that his son and ward conversed so freely with each other. A glance in Ashara's direction showed that she was thinking much along the same lines as he was. Thoughts of a potential future match were something that he'd not lie about and say he found appealed to him greatly. How that match came about, or what the circumstances of it may be, he tried not to concentrate too much on.

'For unless House Martell plans not what I think they do, it may not come about, or should it, it will be mayhap one that needs to be forced.'

"Lady Meera," Ned said happily as Meera Reed walked into the hall, late and as disheveled as she ever was.

"Lord Dayne." Meera greeted Vorian first, even though he'd told her not to." Ashara." the girl said to a smile from his sister. "Ned, Elia," she added to two beaming ones from his son and ward.

"Where's Spioróg, Meera?" Ashara asked as Meera grabbed a plate and served herself as was her wont.

"Hunting."

"Is she missing Jon and Ghost?" Ned asked, his own wish for Jon's swift return clear in his tone and expression.

"She knows they will return by week's end, Ned. So she takes comfort in that, as should you." Meera said to a nod of Ned's head, Vorian and Ashara were the only ones who caught the whispered "As will I." from Lord Reed's daughter as she began to eat.

Knowing now even more for certain that Jon was to return, Vorian bid himself to do all he could to make things ready for what he wished to do once his nephew had.

Upon waking the next morning he made his way to the stables and spoke to the Master of Horse. Ferris took him to the yearling and allowed him to look the black stallion over.

"He's a worthy animal, milord."

"Good, my nephew is a most excellent horseman and he needs a true Dornish mount."

"He'll not find better anywhere in Dorne, I wager."

"I'd not take you up on that bet, Ferris. I know you far too well and your word alone is good enough for me. As it always has been."

It was true, his Master of Horse had been who had trained Arthur's stallion years earlier. His and Ashara's horses too. Arthur's had won him renown and helped forge his name as much as Dawn or his brother's skills had done. Knowing that Jon would soon be riding a horse trained by Ferris, Vorian felt comforted by that fact. As he was later upon seeing the sword and shield and testing out their weight and the ease with which each could be swung.

Over the next few days, he made sure that the ceremony itself would be as public as he wished it to be. The plans he'd made to do this at the Tower of Joy had been changed and instead, it would be here among the entire household at Starfall that Vorian would knight the boy his sister named her son. Their future king would earn his spurs by the hands of a man of House Dayne and while a part of him wished it was Arthur to knight Jon, Vorian was certain his own doing so would be just as welcomed.

Other than that, it was again thoughts of the loans he would give out and the notes that he'd written about who'd get those loans. How Rhaella had managed to get the Iron Bank to agree to this, he knew not. Other than Dorne or in the North, he believed it would not be replicated. What it meant or could lead to in Dorne, he could only speculate on.

"Father, Father, Jon has returned," Ned called out happily as he burst into Vorian's solar.

"Has he indeed? What say you son, should we go and greet your cousin or should we wait here until he makes his way through the keep?"

"We go, father, we must go. Quickly." Ned said excitedly.

"Quickly." he concurred.

Starfall 296 AC,

Jon Stark.

Seeing her standing there, the look of concern on her face. The feel of her as she took him in his arms and whispered words in his ears, the smell of her hair against his face as she led him to his chambers. All of it was like the greatest boon he'd ever known. If Egg had helped him find some clarity and resolve, his mother healed his heart and soul. She made him forget and Jon dearly wished to forget all that had happened in Storm's End.

No sooner had they reached his chambers than she was embracing him once more. Jon was unable to keep the smile from his face as she both chided him and worried over him in equal measure. Before he knew it, he was sitting at the edge of his bed being looked over by the Maester and his uncle. Vorian was torn between looking at Jon and offering some comfort to his sister as the Maester examined Jon for any lasting damage. Only when he'd done so and reported that there was none, did everyone in the room relax.

Ned asked to see him and Jon told his cousin that he was well and things looked worse than they truly were. His words were not convincing to his mother nor to Meera who too had made her way to speak to him. Watching them all be moved out of the room, Jon wondered if he was to be chided a little more. He'd have welcomed it, truly. Yet, it was not to be. Instead, it was concern that his mother's words were filled with. Reproach left for another time. Though Jon expected there to be much of that too.

"You truly feel no pain? I could get the Maester to give you something, Jon. I know boys try to be braver than they truly are at times…"

"I am better, mother. Truly."

"You should rest up, Jon, do you need some help to undress?"

"I…"

"I swaddled you as a babe, come here."

Had someone told him that at three and ten he'd welcome being undressed by his mother, Jon would have named them liars. Feeling how carefully she removed his upper clothing, Jon would name himself one if he said he didn't welcome her attentions. Even when she began to remove his lower garments, Jon felt embarrassed not. Nor did he when she bid him to get into the bed and lay down to get the rest that she believed he truly needed.

"I…Egg…"

"Will be here for you once you've rested, Jon."

"I'm sorry, mother. For worrying you so."

"It is the curse of all children to worry their mothers. I'd have it no other way when it comes to mine own."

He knew she did not truly mean the words. Jon welcomed them all the same and when he felt her fingers brushing through his hair, her hand on his cheek, he closed his eyes and sought his sleep. The sound of her singing softly as she stroked his hair was more than enough to see that he found it quickly. His tiredness had not been something he'd truly noticed, but in truth, he'd only slept fitfully even with Egg in his arms.

Tonight, Jon slept as peacefully as he ever did. Even when his eyes opened in the middle of the night, they were quickly able to be closed again. Seeing her there lying beside him in the bed was enough to see that was so. While waking up the next morning and finding his mother moving around his room was everything he never knew he needed. The smile he offered her was a beaming one and soon enough she was helping him dress for the day ahead.

"About Storm's End…"

"Let us break our fast and greet your cousin and friend, Jon. No doubt they missed you as much as I or your uncle did."

"I.."

"We can speak of Storm's End later."

There was no room for argument. That would mayhap come later. Jon accepted the words and together they walked to the Great Hall. Ned ran to him as soon as he entered. His cousin was keen for tales from the tourney and one look at his mother was enough to tell Jon that they had better be the happier tales that he spoke on.

Eating, trying to get Meera to jape with him, without much success, and listening to Ned's numerous questions was enough to make Jon further forget about his troubles. Seeing Ser Symon speak in hushed whispers to his mother and the expression on her face as he did so, was very much not. Jon soon worried about just what his knight was telling his mother and how bad it made him look as he did so.

Yet it was not his mother who gave him his first scolding since his return. That honor fell to his uncle who bid Jon to join him in his solar after he'd broken his fast. Jon cursed Ghost for not being there with him as he made his way to speak to his uncle. The white wolf took advantage of the fact they were on dry land once more and at present, he was hunting in the small copse to the south of the keep.

He passed Dawn as he walked down the passageway. The sight of it almost brought out the true swordsman in him. That it was an untrue blade and merely a copy of the real sword was known only to kin. Jon wondered if the true sword was even more breathtaking to look at. A shiver of shame ran down his neck a moment later when he remembered that the real Dawn had taken his uncle from this world. It had cost Eddard Stark his life and while Jon understood that in war and battle, some things were beyond your control, he knew that his Uncle Benjen and Aunt Barbrey forgave his Uncle Arthur for it not.

'How I feel about him, is a scab I won't pick at today.'

With a nod to the two guards, Jon entered the door that led to his uncle's solar. Inside, Vorian sat and once again Jon wondered just how much he and his brother looked alike. There were few portraits of Arthur Dayne in his family's keep. Few of any of the living Dayne's if truth be told. Not even his mother or his aunt had their likenesses displayed anywhere they could be seen. All of those particular paintings were kept under lock and key and would only find their place on the walls when they passed. A family tradition that Jon wasn't certain he agreed with. Yet one that he'd honor too if it was bid of him.

"Take a seat, nephew, we've much we need to speak on."

"Uncle?"

It was at times an odd thing. The mummery that his life truly was had never been played as well as it was within his family. His mother, aunt, uncle, and cousin all knew that he was not their blood. Never had they tried to treat him differently, however. To Ashara he was as much her son as he named her his mother. While Vorian too named him nephew with no hint of a lie on his lips. Allyria had liked him not when he'd first arrived at Starfall, but they'd found common ground between them and she called him nephew now too. As for Ned, not even the Seven Gods themselves could make the boy think of Jon as anything other than a cousin. Something he loved them all for.

"Are you well, nephew?" Vorian asked and at first, Jon thought it was simply concern about his injury that made him do so. Then, a glance at his uncle's face showed that he'd been speaking for some time and Jon had heard him not.

"Forgive me, uncle, my mind drifts."

"Was that what happened during the Tourney?"

"I…"

"Your mother is wroth with you, nephew. As too am I. Firstly that you risked yourself so."

"I couldn't let him win. Not him." Jon sneered.

"Yet you risked further injuring your shoulder. For why? For what? To win a tourney? What good is that if you end up a cripple, Jon? What would you do had you lost the use of your arm for the rest of your life?"

"I….I couldn't lose to him." Jon said far more chastened.

"The loss was inevitable. Once you injured yourself you should have retired. By not doing so you've given Joffrey Baratheon food to dine off for years to come."

"I…." Jon looked down at his feet.

"Yet I'm proud of you too. Even if you acted as stubborn as an aurochs." his uncle chuckled.

"I'm sorry."

"Tell your mother and see if it saves you a tongue-lashing. I'd wager it will not."

"She's truly wroth with me?"

"Truly and not simply over the joust with the Crown Prince."

"Because of what I said to Margaery," Jon said shamefully.

"You may have Wolf and Dragon Blood in you, nephew. But you are a Dayne because my sister names you so. To speak in such a manner to a lady…"

"….."

"To speak that way to your betrothed." Vorian looked at him and shook his head. Jon saw the disappointment in that look even if the words weren't spoken aloud. He felt a little annoyed about it and so spoke when he really shouldn't have.

"Did she not deserve to be called out, Uncle? After all she'd done, did she not deserve…"

"No, Jon she did not, and no son of mine should ever have done such a thing." His mother's voice was enough to make Jon lose any of the righteous indignation he had tried to speak with.

"Brother, I seek some time with my son."

"Should I leave?" Vorian winked, though Jon wasn't certain he saw it.

"No, Jon and I will. Come, Jon, there is much we must speak of."

Jon rose to his feet and moved to the door. Stopping there to turn back to his uncle.

"Thank you, uncle, for your words. I promise I will consider them greatly."

"See that you do, nephew. Now go, your mother scares even me at times." Vorian chuckled and this time Jon did see the wink.

They walked for some distance and upon seeing the Palestone Sword, Jon shuddered. Many years earlier he'd heard a tale that he wished he had not. His mother had spoken of thoughts about that Tower that Jon would fight away with all he had in him, even though those thoughts had long since passed. Somehow she'd then managed to overcome those thoughts and while he knew he was partly the reason why that was, he knew too that it was his mother's strength of will that had truly made that so.

So now, out of the two of them, it was Jon who found the Palestone Sword most troubling. He knew too that it was here that his mother brought him when she wished for him to take her words even more seriously than he normally did. Jon readied himself to listen and accept the wisdom in those words once more. As he did the shame that hearing them may bring him.

"On a day like this it is truly beautiful is it not?" his mother said as she bid him take a seat beside her. "The Torrentine never looks as imposing nor the Summer Sea so full of intrigue than when looked down upon from here, I find."

As he had the first time his mother had brought him here, Jon looked to the river and the sea. Following the one that would lead you into the Red Mountains, on to the Prince's Pass and the Tower of Joy, Jon had found it apt that sitting with his Mother by Choice, he could almost follow the path to where he'd lost his Mother by Blood. As if both of them could watch over him at the same time, is how he had named it and nothing or no one would ever be able to tell him differently. Meanwhile, looking to the Summer Sea filled his mind with so many possibilities.

So many tales that had been written by his family had their origin somewhere out there, within or beyond that sea. From Daemon's conquering of the Stepstones to Valyria itself and the more Jon looked to the bright blue waters, the more he thought of the fact that should he sail them, they would take him to more of his kin. A small smile came to his face as he thought of Viserys, Daenerys, Maekar, and even his grandmother. The wish to meet them all was something that had been growing within him every day.

"Speak to me on Joffrey Baratheon, Jon." his mother's words took him from the little daydream that he'd sought to get lost in.

"I know how foolish I've been."

"And your resolve?"

"Is to never be so again," Jon said firmly.

"Speak to me of it regardless."

He told her everything. How it had annoyed him that his betrothed had wished to spend her time with the prince and how because of it, Jon had lost his temper more than once. How the whispers and rumors about her, while he did not believe them, hurt him all the same. How he'd wished for his betrothed to see that Joffrey Baratheon was not a person to be infatuated with, not only because it would complicate their plans, but because Jon had seen how rotten the prince was. His mother judged him not. Not even when he spoke of why he'd fought in after the joust and not simply sought treatment for his injury. Jon tried to skip over the worst parts of his encounters with Margaery, while at the same time, he did likewise with the worst of her behavior. His uncle's words about what it meant to be a Dayne were ones that he'd taken completely on board. Despite the fact of him being a Stark, Snow, Sand, or even a Targaryen.

"My sweet summer child." his mother said, kissing his forehead and smiling at him which took him by surprise. "There is naught wrong with being jealous and the truth of how you feel is more revealed there than in any of your other actions."

"I…"

"Margaery was wrong to behave how she did and had she stepped any further out of line then you would have had no choice but to break the betrothal."

"But the Tyrells know the truth…I could not…I can not."

"And yet even your grandmother would have seen that you must."

"She would?"

"Yet you need to take her feelings into account too, son."

"I don't…."

His mother sighed, reached out to take him in her arms, and did so with such care that Jon never even felt the touch of her as she brushed against his injured shoulder.

"To make our own choices, Jon. 'Tis all any of us truly wants and without the power to do so, none of us are free."

He nodded, not quite understanding where she was going with this, but still willing for her to say it out loud.

"Women have less power than men in this regard. Fathers, brothers, it falls to them to be the Head of our Houses everywhere but Dorne and so…"

"They decide your fate."

"Choose your path." His mother corrected. "Only you alone decide your fate."

Jon listened as his mother told him things about Margaery that he both was unsure were true and yet knew they very much were too. While never once did she condone how his betrothed had behaved, his mother's words were more than enough to allow him to confirm what he had already suspected. As they were to make him feel the kinship with Margaery Tyrell he'd been able to find thus far and that he feared he'd lost because of her attitude in the tourney.

Just like him, her life was not her own to choose and so, just like him, she had tried to rebel against it. Instead of accepting what her parents and grandmother had chosen for her, Margaery had fought against it and it was not so different to what Jon had tried to do when he'd found out his grandmother's wishes for him. Had he not too rebelled and sought to do anything but what he was being asked to do.

'I had and I did.'

It was not enough for him to forgive Margaery for the things he blamed her for that she'd done, it very much was for the things she had not. The shame he now felt because of that would have been the thing he'd have taken away from his talk with his mother, had it not been for what she'd said regarding Theon Greyjoy and the fact he had been sentenced to the Wall. Jon listened in growing horror as his mother laid out how the path to war had just been embarked upon.

"He took his head not."

"Father no children, marry no wife. There are other parts of the Night's Watch oath too, but I wager Balon Greyjoy will care only for those."

"But Asha…"

For the next three days and nights, Jon battled with his mind over three different and somewhat interlinked things. The first of those was his grandmother, how he'd been a fool and was wrong to not speak to her these past years. He'd thought it more than once already, but after speaking to his mother, hearing her speak on Margaery, and being chided for his actions, he now truly understood just how foolish he had been.

The second was what Balon Greyjoy may do and how Robert Baratheon would react to it. Jon found that he needed to speak to Ser Symon, Syrio, and his uncle Vorian to better understand what may or may not happen. Asha and the safety of his family in the North as well as what his grandmother may do should the realm once again find itself amid a rebellion all given equal weight in his pondering.

Lastly, it was Margaery Tyrell that Jon thought of. He'd hurt her with his words as much as she had him with her deeds. It was not the man he wished himself to be and certainly not the man his mother would be happy to name her son. Yet, he knew not how to fix the one and so, despite the need to do so, it was the others that he spoke mostly of. Jon spent as much time in his uncle's solar as he did without. Though still, they managed to surprise him when he was called to the courtyard a week and a half after his return to Starfall.

"Ah finally, the man of the hour." His uncle Vorian called out happily, Jon unsure why that was and even less so when it came to the sheer number of people in Starfall's courtyard.

"Uncle? Mother?" he asked, looking from one to the other and seeing the beaming smile his mother aimed in his direction.

Over their shoulder, he could see Ser Symon and Syrio looking on proudly. Beside them, Meera stood next to Ned and his cousin seemed even more excitable than ever. For that alone, Jon would wonder what was going on. Given that everywhere he looked there were members of the Household wearing looks of anticipation, it only perplexed him more. As did the sight of the beautiful black sand steed that the Stablemaster led their way. Jon was so focussed on that, he never saw the Ironwood shield that was being held by the Master of Arms. Nor did he see it when his uncle was handed Dawn's replica either.

"Kneel Jon Stark. Kneel and when you rise again, do so as a Knight of the Realm."

A part of him wished to deny his uncle. To scream out and say he was no worthy knight. Another part of him refused to do any such thing. One lingering look at his mother was enough to get Jon to do as he'd been bid. Whatever he may think of the honor being deserving or not was nothing compared to knowing that she felt it truly was. A lone happy tear fell from her eye and rolled down her cheek as Jon knelt in front of his uncle.

"In the Name of the Father, I bid you to be just.

In the Name of the Mother, I bid you be merciful,

In the Name of the Smith, I bid you to offer aid to those in need of it,

In the Name of the Crone, I bid you to offer good counsel.

In the Name of the Warrior, I bid you to defend the innocent,

In the Name of the Maiden, I bid you to protect all women,

In the Name of the Stranger, I bid you to value life."

As his uncle spoke each word, Jon felt the flat of Dawn's blade on his shoulder. Not even the fact that it was not truly Dawn was enough to stop him from feeling emotional because of it. Once Vorian was finished, Jon was asked to rise to his feet and it was then that he was presented with a long black hilted sword, the white wolf pommel looking striking as his mother handed it to him. It was Ned who, with Meera's help, handed him the Ironwood shield, the Fallen Stars of House Dayne seeming to be landing directly on Ghost's upraised body. The dark purple background is as striking as the image itself.

Finally, his uncle handed him the reins to the incredible black stallion Jon had seen earlier. The urge to move to it was something that Jon took a moment's pause before giving in to. His need to thank his uncle, mother, cousin, and the people of Starfall overrode anything else for now.

"Never shall I forget how I have been honored here today. Nor that I am not only a son of Dorne or the North, or of my father's House, but I am one of House Dayne too. None who came before me could ever be prouder than I am to name that so and to name Lord Vorian, Lord Edric, Lady Allyria, and Lady Ashara as my kin."

They feasted that night, yet Jon found himself alone on the balcony at one point. His eyes once again looked over the Torrentine and the Sunset Sea, the view a far lesser one than the one from the Palestone Sword. So lost was he in it, that it took him some time to notice his mother had come to join him. Or that she'd given him as much time as she was going to let him before forcing him to speak about what was on his mind.

"I feel unworthy of it." he sighed.

"You are very much not."

"In Storm's End, I ... .I…I was so angered, mother. At Joffrey, at Robert Baratheon, at Margaery….at myself most of all."

No words were spoken, his mother again allowing him to gather his thoughts before he spoke once more.

"I gave her the freedom to make her choice, Mother. After Highgarden, after what she said…..I gave her the freedom and yet I felt shamed by what she did with that freedom."

"Are you truly that proud?" his mother asked curiously. Jon not noticing that it was but a ruse on her part and that in truth she wished him to dig deeper.

"I'm a Dragon, am I not?" his voice rose. "A man who everyone wishes to see named a king," he spoke the last word so softly that it almost went unheard in the wind. "I cannot be shamed in such a way, made to look as second best or second choice. I'm no fool, I understand how politics work, how things once seen cannot be unseen." he slapped his chest, even though his voice was far more even than he would have expected it to be.

"Was it shame you felt, my son? Truly?"

"I….I don't want to be him, mother. I never want to be him…I couldn't bear it if I was as Robert Baratheon was."

"Oh Jon, you silly boy." his mother's words were chiding, and yet her expression was anything but. "You could never be anything like the whoremonger who sits his unworthy arse on a throne he deserves not. Simply that you fear even the slightest comparison would make that so."

"I…"

"I know what lies in your heart, my son. In time, you will too and I have no fear that you'll ever turn into Robert Baratheon or that you and he are alike in even the most simplistic of ways."

Despite the night being cold, neither of them wished to leave the balcony. Jon took his cloak off so his mother could warm herself and he shook his head and named himself as a Northman when she worried about him catching a chill. Together they spoke on much and at no point did his mother tell him what it was she wished him to learn by himself. It was frustrating and annoying and he loved her for it.

Eventually, tiredness won out and that night he dreamt of the woman he was betrothed to. Jealousy, longing, upset, anger, hope, and even despair were his nighttime companions. Compared to what he found the next morning, however, he'd have taken another moon or two with them had the gods gifted him so.

"Of all the foolhardy ... .the man is ... .does he care not about his children? Can he be so stupid?"

Jon ranted as he moved around his uncle's solar. Or tried to at least. He felt he should. That he needed to and yet, in truth, he could not. There was too much at stake for that to be so. A glance in his mother's direction allowed him to feel some calmness. Not that calm brought him any great relief. Nothing truly could after the raven from Winterfell. The words on the scroll now almost burned into Jon's mind.

Balon Greyjoy seeks vengeance for his son and cares not for his daughter. Ironborn fleet forming at Pyke and another rebellion soon to be agreed upon.

Oh, there were other words on the raven's scroll too. A message from his aunt and uncle that told him much of Winterfell and sought to bridge the gap that had formed between Jon and Benjen Stark. Words that spoke of how missed he was, by not just his cousins but his aunt and uncle too. Yet, for now, Jon was able to somewhat ignore those words. What he could not ignore was the sense that his time at Starfall had come to an end. That, he'd need to leave and leave soon and it wouldn't be the North that he'd be sailing to.

"I must go to King's Landing before words are spoken that I have no power over," he declared. "I must go."

There were arguments. Both his uncle and his mother told him that no words of his would sway Robert Baratheon's hand. Jon listened to those words not. Or not fully. He needed to plead Asha's case. As much as he needed to be back in the North should the Ironborn decide that it was his lands they wished to attack.

"I must go," he said, his words firm and his resolve fully strengthened. So much so that the arguments stopped and then but for some hugs, some words of concern and support, neither his uncle nor his mother tried to stop him from what it was he felt must be done.

A/N: Still trying to get things up to date in each of my stories, normal service should resume within a week and I'll get back to answering some reviews then.