Chapter 17

"You look lovely, dear," Lyanna said warmly. She stood behind Faye, gently adjusting the lace at the gown's shoulders. "Are there any changes you would like to make?"

Faye turned her gaze to the mirror, her fingers brushing the intricate embroidery on the bodice. The gown was exquisite, with delicate silver threadwork and a flowing train that seemed to shimmer under the light. She had never worn anything so regal, so utterly breathtaking.

"I…I don't think so, Your Grace," Faye murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She gazed at her reflection, her hands smoothing over the delicate fabric of the gown. The woman in the mirror looked regal, elegant, almost unrecognizable.

Lyanna's smile softened as she rested her hands gently on Faye's shoulders. "Good. Because you look perfect."

"You truly do, my lady," added Alise, her smile warm.

"Thank you," Faye replied, her voice quiet. Despite their kind words, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest. The gown, the preparations, the expectations, it all made the reality of her upcoming wedding feel even more tangible, and with it came a swirl of nervousness she couldn't entirely shake.

Lyanna's gaze met Faye's in the mirror, her expression kind and reassuring. "You will be a beautiful bride," she said gently. "About the ceremony, Aegon will cloak you in the colors of House Targaryen, but I was wondering if you might want to wear the colors of House Arryn before that?"

The question gave Faye pause. She hadn't considered it before. As the last living member of House Arryn, the weight of her family's legacy was heavy on her shoulders. The thought of her father and her uncle, both gone, made her heart ache. Neither of them would be there to walk her down the aisle.

"Yes," Faye said after a moment, her voice stronger now. She lifted her chin slightly, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "I would like that."

It felt right, an acknowledgment of her family and the home she had lost, a way to carry a piece of them with her.

Lyanna smiled approvingly, giving Faye's shoulders a gentle squeeze. "A fine choice. Your father would be proud. House Arryn may have suffered losses, but you carry its legacy forward with grace and strength."

Faye swallowed, her throat tightening at the mention of her father. "Thank you, Your Grace," she whispered. She didn't feel particularly strong at that moment, but Lyanna's words gave her a flicker of reassurance.

"Would you like me to fetch a seamstress to prepare the Arryn colors for the ceremony?" Alise asked, stepping forward with a soft smile.

Faye nodded. "Yes, please."

Alise curtsied and left the room, leaving Faye alone with Lyanna.

"You remind me of myself, you know," Lyanna said suddenly, her voice thoughtful.

Faye blinked, caught off guard. "I do?"

Lyanna chuckled softly, moving to sit on a cushioned stool. "Oh, yes. I was nervous too before my wedding. Terrified, in fact. I loved Rhaegar, but the weight of what was expected of me…" She trailed off, her expression distant as if recalling the memory. "It can feel overwhelming."

Faye hesitated, then asked, "How did you handle it?"

Lyanna's gaze softened. "I reminded myself that our marriage was more than just a union of houses. It was a partnership, committing to someone I loved." She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Do you think you can find that with Aegon?"

The question lingered in the air, and Faye felt the weight of it settle on her. She wasn't sure how to answer. Things with Aegon had improved, he had been kinder, but there was still so much she didn't know about him, and even more he didn't know about her.

"I…hope so," Faye said at last, her voice quiet but honest. "I think…he's trying."

Lyanna smiled faintly. "That's a good start. Trust me, Faye. It's not about where you begin. It's about where you're willing to go together."

Faye nodded, her thoughts churning as Lyanna's words sank in.

"I know you must be nervous," Lyanna added after a moment of silence. "I'm sure any young woman would be."

"I apologize for not being able to help much with the preparations," Faye sighed. "I've felt quite useless in that area."

"No need to worry about that," Lyanna assured, smiling. "Everything is going well, and the guests should start arriving within a few days."

Faye nodded, feeling a knot in her stomach.

"I should have asked sooner," Lyanna continued. "About the wedding night… Has someone explained these things to you?"

Faye blushed, unprepared for Lyanna's question.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Lyanna's smile softened as she noticed Faye's discomfort. "Good," she said gently. "But if you have questions, or concerns, feel free to ask."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Faye murmured, her cheeks still warm.

Lyanna reached out, taking Faye's hands in hers. "It's natural to feel nervous, but remember this: the most important thing is communication. If you and Aegon can talk openly, everything else will fall into place in time."

Faye nodded, though her mind was racing. She appreciated Lyanna's kindness, but the thought of her wedding night, and everything that came with it, filled her with anxiety.

Before she could respond, the door opened, and Alise returned with the seamstress, who held a bundle of fabric in her hands. The vibrant blue and white of House Arryn's colors stood out brightly.

"These should do nicely," Alise said, holding up the fabric.

"Thank you, Alise," Faye said warmly.

She turned her attention back to the mirror as the seamstress began adjusting the fabric around her shoulders to resemble a cloak. Seeing the familiar colors of her house offered her some comfort, though they also made her think of her father. If only he could have been here with her.

"I swear, Ghost," Jon murmured as he marched toward his chamber. "If I hear the word 'wedding' one more time…"

The direwolf huffed, seemingly unbothered by his master's complaint.

The whole Red Keep was bustling with activity day and night, servants running back and forth to ensure everything was ready before the guests began to arrive. Jon had spent the majority of his days accompanying Rhaegar to all kinds of meetings, trying to learn as much as he could.

He knew he should have spent more time with Faye before the wedding, but he found himself avoiding being alone with her after their conversation about Robb. Jon felt guilty for making her feel like she needed to defend herself.

Considering how Aegon had acted with who knew how many women, his feelings seemed nothing short of hypocritical. And yet, Faye had been the one who had been examined to ensure she was worthy of Aegon. That felt profoundly wrong to Jon.

As he was passing the grand bathing chamber, Faye emerged, followed by her handmaiden. Her hair was still damp, and she wore a simple light gray gown.

"Your Grace," she and Alise greeted Jon with a curtsy.

"My lady," Jon replied with a polite nod.

"I'm afraid you and Ser Fury are too late," Faye said with a teasing tone. "I've already finished my bath."

Jon managed a faint smile, though the teasing lilt in her voice caught him off guard. He glanced at Ghost, who tilted his head curiously as if understanding her words.

"It seems we'll have to plan better next time," Jon said lightly, attempting to match her tone.

Faye's lips curved into a soft smile, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes as she regarded him. "I'm sure Ser Fury wouldn't mind a bath, though. He seems to enjoy them as much as he enjoys his treats."

Jon chuckled, glancing at the direwolf. "He's spoiled enough as it is. Though it seems everyone in the Keep is determined to pamper him."

For a moment, silence stretched between them, and Jon felt the weight of his earlier guilt return. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding her, not when the wedding was so close.

"I'm on my way to my quarters," he said, his tone cautious. "Would you like to join me for a moment?"

Faye looked clearly surprised by his request. "Certainly, Your Grace."

Alise gave her a concerned look. "My lady, it's late," she said quietly.

Faye glanced at her handmaiden and then at the two guards trailing Jon.

"I trust you will be a gentleman, Your Grace," she stated calmly. "We are not married yet."

Jon felt heat rise to his cheeks at her bold statement, though her calm tone betrayed no hint of malice. "Of course," he said, his voice steady but tinged with a faint awkwardness. "You have my word, my lady."

Faye gave a small nod, her composure unwavering as she turned back to Alise. "You may return to my chamber. I'll join you shortly."

Alise hesitated, casting a wary glance toward Jon, but eventually curtsied and walked away. The two guards trailing Jon remained at a respectful distance as he and Faye began walking together toward his quarters, Ghost padding silently by their side.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the echo of their footsteps and the distant murmur of activity in the Keep. Jon stole a glance at Faye, noting how composed she seemed despite the late hour and the awkwardness lingering between them.

"I wanted to apologize," Jon said finally, breaking the silence. "For not spending much time with you these past few days."

Faye looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You've been busy, Your Grace. There's no need to apologize."

"That's not entirely true," Jon admitted, his voice low. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to explain yourself."

Faye tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "That's alright," she said quietly.

They reached the door to Jon's quarters, and he opened it, gesturing for her to step inside. Ghost immediately padded to his usual spot on a soft rug and settled down with a satisfied huff.

Jon turned to Faye as the door closed behind them. "Please, take a seat. Would you like some wine?"

"No, thank you, Your Grace."

"It's Aegon," Jon corrected. "We're alone now. How about some water?"

"That would be nice, but you really don't have to…"

"It's no trouble," Jon assured firmly, pouring her a cup of water.

"Thank you," she said softly as he handed the cup to her.

They sat in silence for a moment before Jon spoke. "So, what did you do today?"

"I had the final fitting of my wedding gown," Faye replied. "Your mother offered me a chance to wear House Arryn colors before you replace them with a Targaryen cloak. Is that alright with you?"

Jon studied her for a moment, surprised by the question. "Of course," he said, his tone gentle. "It's more than alright. You should honor your family, Faye. That's a part of who you are, and it shouldn't be forgotten."

Faye's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she nodded. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice softer now. "I'll wear them with pride."

Jon nodded, pleased to see a flicker of determination replace the uncertainty in her eyes. "Good. Tell me about your home. About Vale."

Faye's expression brightened slightly at the mention of her home. "The Vale is…beautiful," she began, her voice carrying a hint of warmth as she spoke. "The mountains stretch as far as the eye can see, their peaks crowned with snow even in summer. The air is so crisp and clean, it feels like you're breathing in the sky itself."

Jon leaned forward, listening intently. "It sounds incredible," he said softly.

"It is," Faye agreed, her gaze distant, as though she were seeing the Vale in her mind's eye. "I spent my childhood at the Eyrie. It's perched so high above the land that the clouds would sometimes roll in below us. When the sun hit them just right, it looked like the entire castle was floating in a sea of gold." She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "I used to sneak out to the parapets at dawn to watch the sunrise. My father would always scold me, but I think he understood why I did it."

Jon couldn't help but smile at her words. "It sounds like the kind of place that stays with you, no matter how far you go."

Faye nodded, her voice quieter now. "It does. But it wasn't just the beauty of it. It was…safe. My father always made sure of that. Even after my mother passed, he did everything he could to make sure I felt protected."

Her smile faded slightly, and Jon saw a shadow cross her face. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "You miss him."

"Every day," Faye admitted, her tone tinged with sorrow. "He was a good man. He loved the Vale, and he loved me. Losing him…it felt like losing a part of myself."

Jon reached out instinctively, his hand hovering for a moment before he rested it gently on hers. "I'm sorry, Faye."

She looked down at their hands, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Aegon."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them comfortable now. Jon felt the tension in his chest ease slightly.

"Are you nervous about the wedding?" Faye suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

Jon blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I suppose I am," he admitted, his honesty surprising even himself. "Not about the ceremony itself, but… about everything that comes after. I want to do right by you, Faye. I don't want you to feel like you've been… forced into something you didn't choose."

Her expression softened further, and for the first time, Jon thought he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

"I won't pretend that this is how I imagined my life would be," she said softly. "But I know that we both have duties to fulfill. And… I appreciate your consideration, Aegon. Truly."

Jon nodded, his chest tightening at her words. "If there's ever anything I can do to make this easier for you, please tell me. I mean that."

Faye's smile returned. "Thank you, Aegon. That means more to me than you might think. And… there is one thing I would like to ask you."

Jon nodded. "Of course, anything."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "About the wedding night… I admit just the thought makes me very… nervous. I am aware of how… experienced you are, and… I would like to ask about your expectations. I know this is probably an inappropriate question, but I would prefer to be… prepared."

Jon felt heat rise to his face at Faye's words. He hadn't expected her to broach such a delicate topic, but he could see the effort it took for her to ask, the vulnerability in her gaze as she waited for his response.

He cleared his throat, taking a moment to compose himself. "Faye, I…" He hesitated, unsure how to put his thoughts into words without making her more uncomfortable. "First, let me say that you don't have to worry about that. I don't have any expectations, none that you need to be nervous about."

Faye's brows knitted slightly. "But you must have some," she said softly. "It's…a part of marriage."

Jon nodded, feeling the weight of her statement. "It is," he agreed, "but that doesn't mean it has to happen in any way that makes you feel…forced."

Faye looked down at her hands, her fingers tracing the edge of the cup she still held. "That's…kind of you to say," she murmured. "But we both know what is expected of us."

Jon felt his stomach tightening.

"Perhaps, but you don't have to be afraid of me. You have my word."

Faye exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jon offered a small smile. "I may not have all the answers, but I promise to be patient. You can always tell me how you feel, about anything."

Faye nodded slowly, her smile tentative but genuine. "That's…reassuring," she admitted. "I'm glad we had this talk."

Jon nodded, though he still felt a knot in his stomach. He felt guilty for wanting her.

"I should go," Faye added after a moment of silence. "I wouldn't want anyone to think that the dashing prince robbed my virtue before the wedding."

Jon's chest tightened at her words, though her tone was light. "Dashing?" he repeated, standing as she did.

Faye's cheeks flushed, and she let out a soft laugh, glancing away. "I thought it was polite to use a compliment when I'm teasing you."

Jon chuckled, the tension between them easing slightly. "I'll take it, though I'm not sure 'dashing' is the first word I'd use to describe myself."

Faye tilted her head, her playful smile returning. "What would you use then?"

"Stubborn, perhaps," Jon said with a small smirk. "Or brooding. I've been told I do that a lot."

Faye raised an eyebrow, her teasing tone softening. "Maybe, but I think there's more to you than that."

Jon was caught off guard by her words, unsure how to respond. "And you?" he asked after a moment. "What word would you use to describe yourself?"

Faye hesitated, her smile faltering for a moment before she replied. "Determined, I suppose. Or…overwhelmed, lately."

Jon frowned slightly, his brow furrowing. "Overwhelmed how?"

She gave him a wry smile. "Well, preparing for a royal wedding is no small task, as you might have noticed. And…adjusting to all of this, to a life I never imagined for myself. It's a lot to take in."

Jon nodded, understanding her sentiment more than she might have realized. "It is a lot," he agreed. "But you're handling it well. Better than I would, I think."

Faye's smile softened, her eyes meeting his. "Thank you, Aegon."

Jon's chest tightened again at the name, but he forced himself to smile. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here," he said. "And I mean that."

"Thank you," she said softly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned toward the door.

"Good night, Faye," Jon said, his voice quiet.

"Good night, Aegon," she replied, glancing back at him with a faint smile before disappearing into the corridor.

As the door closed, Jon let out a slow breath, his thoughts swirling. The more time he spent with her, the more complicated his feelings became. Ghost padded over to his side, letting out a low huff, and Jon reached down to scratch behind the direwolf's ears.

"You heard her," Jon murmured. "Dashing."

Ghost tilted his head, as if unimpressed, and Jon couldn't help but laugh softly. "You don't agree? You'd better if you want your treat."

Ghost huffed, turning his back on Jon.

"Fine then," Jon chuckled. "You're probably right."

"Uncle Aegon!" a little girl cheered as she ran toward Jon.

He froze for a moment as she wrapped her small arms around his waist.

"Hello, Genevieve," he greeted her somewhat cautiously before crouching to her level.

She had dark hair and Rhaegar's lilac eyes. The five-year-old beamed up at him, her smile wide and full of excitement.

"Lift me up, Uncle Aegon," she demanded, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I want to be tall like you!"

Jon hesitated for only a moment before complying. "Alright then, little lady," he muttered with a small smile, wrapping his arms around Genevieve and lifting her effortlessly into the air.

The little girl squealed with delight, throwing her arms out as if she were flying. "Look! I'm taller than everyone now!" she declared, grinning triumphantly.

Jon couldn't help but chuckle at her excitement. "So you are," he agreed. "What do you plan to do with all this newfound height?"

Genevieve tapped her chin thoughtfully before breaking into a mischievous smile. "I will command my knights and ride my dragon into battle!"

Jon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who are your knights?"

She giggled. "You, of course! And Father. And Uncle Loras, too! Oh, and Ser Fury!"

At the sound of his name, Ghost huffed from where he stood, eyeing the child with something between amusement and mild resignation.

Jon smirked. "A strong company indeed."

Genevieve nodded sagely before leaning closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't tell anyone. No one can know about my dragon."

Jon barely held back a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

A new voice cut through their moment.

"Genevieve, what mischief are you up to now?"

Jon turned to see a young woman approaching, her expression half-exasperated, half-amused. Genevieve was like a miniature version of her, with the same dark hair and lilac eyes. She had to be Rhaenys.

Genevieve wriggled slightly in Jon's hold but didn't ask to be put down. "I'm making Uncle Aegon my knight!" she declared proudly.

Rhaenys sighed fondly. "You already have plenty of knights, sweet girl. And I'm sure your uncle has other things to do than carry you around like a little dragon queen."

Genevieve pouted. "But I like it up here."

Jon shook his head in amusement before finally setting her down gently. "There. Back to your normal height."

The little girl sighed dramatically. "It was fun while it lasted."

Rhaenys walked over to Jon with a warm smile and hugged him. "It's good to see you, Aegon."

Jon hesitated for a brief moment before hugging her back. Although she was a stranger to him, he felt an unexplained connection between them.

"You too," he managed to reply.

Rhaenys was still smiling as she pulled away. A man who had joined her greeted Jon with a polite bow.

"Your Grace."

The man was handsome, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He leaned on a cane. This had to be Willas Tyrell, Rhaenys' husband.

"Lord Tyrell," Jon greeted him.

"I brought you one of my finest hawks, as you requested," Willas continued. "I hope Lady Faye will like her."

In that moment, Jon realized he had momentarily forgotten Faye's presence. They had come to the courtyard together to welcome Rhaenys and her family. Jon quickly turned to Faye, whose eyes had widened at Lord Willas' words.

"Forgive me," Jon said quickly. "Allow me to introduce my betrothed, Lady Faye."

Faye curtsied gracefully. "An honor to meet you, my lord, my lady." She paused, then smiled warmly at Genevieve. "And the young lady as well."

"Lady Faye," Rhaenys greeted her warmly. "I'm glad to finally meet you."

"My apologies," Lord Willas said. "I didn't mean to ruin the surprise."

"That's alright," Jon assured him before turning to Faye. "Perhaps you've heard that Lord Willas breeds hawks. Since you recently lost your falcon, I thought… I thought that you might want a new companion."

Faye blinked a few times before her lips curved into a warm smile. "Thank you, Your Grace. That was… most thoughtful of you."

"My daughter already named the hawk Nymeria, after her favorite heroine," Lord Willas said, smiling. "But of course, you can rename her, my lady."

Faye shook her head, glancing at Genevieve. "That won't be necessary, my lord. Nymeria is a perfect name."

Genevieve beamed at Faye's response. "You like the name?" she asked eagerly.

Faye nodded. "Very much. Nymeria was a great warrior, fierce and loyal. A fine name for a hawk."

The little girl looked incredibly pleased with herself, standing a bit taller. "Then she will be a great companion for you!"

Jon watched the exchange, feeling an odd warmth settle in his chest. Seeing Faye like this, her expression soft and unguarded, was something rare. He realized then that he wanted to see her smile like that more often.

"I can show you how to handle her properly, if you'd like," Willas offered, his tone kind. "She's young, but well-trained."

"I'd like that," Faye said, clearly touched by the gesture. "Thank you, my lord."

Rhaenys glanced between them, her sharp gaze missing nothing. "It seems my brother has good instincts when it comes to gifts," she remarked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Jon cleared his throat, feeling the attention shift back to him. "I try."

Rhaenys only smirked. "It seems you succeeded well."

Before Jon could respond, Genevieve tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Can we show Nymeria to Lady Faye now?" she asked eagerly.

Rhaenys sighed with affectionate exasperation. "Patience, little dragon. There will be plenty of time for that."

Genevieve huffed and moved beside Ghost. The direwolf sat patiently as she hugged him.

"I've missed you, Ser Fury," she hummed.

Ghost let out a low, rumbling sound, something between a sigh and a huff of amusement. He remained still as Genevieve buried her face in his thick fur, tiny hands gripping his coat with all the trust in the world.

Jon shook his head, smirking. "You do realize he's not actually a knight, don't you?"

Genevieve pulled back just enough to give him a very serious look. "Of course, he is. He's big, brave, and he protects his family. That's what knights do."

Rhaenys chuckled. "She's been calling him a knight since she could talk. I doubt anything will change her mind now."

Jon exhaled, conceding the point. "Fair enough."

Genevieve turned back to Ghost and whispered something into his ear, giggling when the direwolf flicked it in response.

Willas shifted his weight slightly, gripping his cane. "Shall I have Nymeria brought to the mews? That way, Lady Faye may see her properly when she's ready."

Faye nodded, still smiling. "That would be wonderful. Thank you again, my lord."

The group began making their way further into the Keep, with Willas and Faye discussing Nymeria in quiet tones. Jon fell into step beside Rhaenys, who glanced at him before wrapping her arm around his.

"There is something different about you, Aegon," she said softly, keeping her voice low enough that only he could hear.

Jon swallowed. "Different?"

Rhaenys nodded. "Could it be that you have finally met someone you like more than your own reflection?"

Her tone was teasing, but Jon still felt heat rise to his cheeks.

"Why would you think that?" he murmured.

Rhaenys laughed softly. "This is me you're talking to, little brother. I know you. And I'm happy for you. It's about time you decided to grow up."

Jon exhaled, shaking his head. "I suppose you're right."

Rhaenys smirked. "Of course I am. I just never thought you would admit it."

Jon glanced ahead at Faye, who was still deep in conversation with Willas. She looked... content. It was a rare sight, and he found himself unwilling to disturb it.

Rhaenys followed his gaze, her smirk softening into something more knowing. "You care for her."

Jon hesitated, then answered carefully, "I respect her."

Rhaenys hummed in amusement. "Respect is a good foundation. And I admit it's more than I expected from you."

Jon frowned. "That's nice to hear."

Rhaenys squeezed his arm gently. "You know I love you, Aegon, but that doesn't make me blind to your… shall we say, less-than-pleasant traits."

Jon didn't really know how to respond to that. He was well aware of what kind of person Aegon had been. Yet, his family still seemed to love him.

Suddenly, Rhaenys gasped and placed a hand on her rounded belly.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked quickly.

"Nothing," she assured him, smiling. "Your nephew or niece is just kicking me."

Jon blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "You're with child?"

Rhaenys laughed at his reaction. "You're only just noticing? You sent me a gift, remember?"

Jon felt a bit foolish; he had forgotten the whole thing.

"I… I don't know if you heard about my accident."

Rhaenys' expression turned serious. "Yes, I heard. Your mother wrote to me. How are you? According to Lyanna, you have recovered well."

Jon nodded. "I have. I just have some trouble remembering everything."

Rhaenys studied him carefully, her expression unreadable. "Everything?" she echoed.

Jon hesitated before answering. "Most things are clear, but some moments… some details slip away."

She frowned slightly but nodded. "That must be frustrating."

"It is."

Rhaenys was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her voice gentler. "Do you remember us?"

Jon met her gaze, feeling a strange tightness in his chest. "I remember enough."

A soft smile touched her lips. "Then that's what matters."

They walked in silence for a brief moment before Jon spoke.

"So, how far along are you?"

"Five months," Rhaenys said, resting a hand on her belly.

"Are you…nervous?"

"More excited than nervous," she admitted. "Willas has been wonderful. And Genevieve is convinced she's going to train the babe to be a knight before they can even walk."

Jon smiled. "That sounds about right."

Rhaenys smiled too, then tilted her head at him. "You'll be an uncle again. And soon a father."

Jon tensed slightly. He had thought about it briefly. But the idea of fatherhood was as daunting as it was foreign. "One step at a time, Rhaenys."

She grinned. "Fair enough. But you might find that it's not as frightening as you think."

Jon wasn't so sure about that, but he simply nodded as they continued toward the Great Hall.

"A toast," Rhaegar said, raising his goblet. "To my daughter and her family." He paused, giving Rhaenys a warm smile. "Welcome home, my child."

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenys replied, returning his smile.

Jon lifted his goblet along with everyone else at the table. He sat next to Rhaegar, with Genevieve beside him, she had insisted on sitting next to him. On her other side sat Rhaenys and Lady Olenna Tyrell. Jon hadn't had the chance to exchange many words with Lady Olenna, but it was clear she was a force to be reckoned with. Mace Tyrell, who had also joined them, was acting far less pompous in his mother's presence.

Across the table sat Lyanna, Faye, Lord Willas, and Prince Oberyn.

"How are you feeling, my dear niece?" Prince Oberyn asked, smiling warmly.

"I'm well, uncle," Rhaenys replied, instinctively touching her belly. "Judging by the kicks, the babe is going to be strong."

"A true Martell, then," Oberyn hummed approvingly.

Mace puffed out his chest. "The child will be a Tyrell through and through."

Oberyn smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. "If they inherit their mother's fire, I'd say the Dornish blood will not be so easily ignored."

Rhaenys chuckled, resting a hand on her belly. "Let's hope they inherit the best of both." She paused, then glanced at Rhaegar with a knowing smile. "Along with the strength of their Targaryen blood."

"A fine sentiment," Lady Olenna remarked, her sharp eyes sweeping over the table. "Though I suspect this child will have a mind of their own, no matter whose blood runs stronger."

Genevieve leaned closer to Jon and whispered, "I hope the babe is a girl."

Jon glanced down at her, amused. "Why is that?"

Genevieve grinned. "Because a sister would be more fun. I could train her to be my squire."

Jon smirked at Genevieve's enthusiasm. "And what if the babe is a boy?"

Genevieve wrinkled her nose in thought before shrugging. "Then I suppose he can still be my squire. But he'll have to listen to me."

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sure he'll appreciate your leadership."

Across the table, Rhaegar watched the exchange with quiet amusement before turning his attention back to Rhaenys. "Have you given any thought to names?"

Rhaenys glanced at Willas, who nodded in encouragement. "A few," she admitted. "If it's a boy, we've considered Lewyn, after Uncle Lewyn." She looked toward Oberyn, whose expression softened at the mention of his late uncle.

"A fine name," Oberyn said approvingly.

"And if it's a girl?" Lyanna asked, taking a sip of her wine.

Rhaenys smiled. "Elinor. After Willas' grandmother."

Lady Olenna hummed in approval. "A good choice. Elinor Tyrell was a sharp woman, and sharp women are in short supply these days."

"Present company excluded, of course," Oberyn added with a grin, earning a sharp look from Lady Olenna and a chuckle from Rhaegar.

The conversation continued with lighthearted talk of names and lineage, but Jon found his gaze drifting to Faye. She had been relatively quiet, listening attentively but speaking little. He wondered what she was thinking.

As if sensing his gaze, Faye turned toward him, meeting his eyes with an unreadable expression. Before he could say anything, Genevieve tugged at his sleeve again.

"Uncle Aegon, can I have a sip of your wine?" she asked innocently.

Rhaenys sighed. "Absolutely not."

Genevieve pouted. "But Father lets me try his sometimes."

Willas raised an eyebrow. "A sip, under supervision."

Lady Olenna sniffed. "Well, that explains a great many things."

Jon laughed, ruffling Genevieve's hair. "When you're older."

Genevieve sighed dramatically. "That's what everyone says. I'm big already." She paused, giving Jon a grin. "I bet I'm stronger than you."

Jon smiled. "Oh? Is that so?"

Genevieve nodded vigorously. "I've been training!" She flexed her small arms for emphasis.

Rhaenys shook her head with fond exasperation. "Training how, exactly?"

Genevieve straightened in her chair. "I practice with my wooden sword every day. And I wrestled Ser Fury!"

At the mention of his name, Ghost huffed from his place beside Jon, his red eyes half-lidded as if he could hardly be bothered by the claim.

"You wrestled Ser Fury?" Jon repeated, amused.

Genevieve nodded proudly. "He let me win."

Oberyn chuckled. "A wise direwolf. Knows better than to wound a little dragon's pride."

Rhaegar, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned forward slightly. "Strength is important," he said, his voice calm but firm. "But a true warrior knows that strength alone is not enough. One must have wisdom as well."

Genevieve tilted her head. "So, I have to be smart too?"

Rhaegar nodded. "A strong mind is just as important as a strong arm."

Genevieve considered this before looking at Jon again. "Then I'll train my mind, too! Will you teach me, Uncle?"

Jon hesitated. It was such an innocent request, but it still felt… strange. The idea of teaching a child, of guiding them, was something he had never truly thought about. But Genevieve looked at him with such open trust that he found himself nodding before he could think better of it.

"Yes, I'll teach you," he said.

Genevieve beamed. "Then I'll be the strongest and smartest knight ever!"

Oberyn raised his goblet in mock salute. "The realm should prepare itself."

The table erupted in laughter, but Jon's gaze drifted back to Faye. She was watching him again, something unreadable in her eyes. This time, however, there was a smile on her lips.