Chapter 14
Jon stared at his reflection in the towering mirror, unsure of what to make of the figure staring back at him. Beside him, a tailor and a seamstress stood with bated breath, their hands clasped nervously as they awaited his reaction. The tunic they had crafted for the royal wedding was unlike anything Jon had ever worn, ornate, elegant, and almost foreign to him.
The dark fabric of the tunic shimmered in the sunlight, its intricate embroidery catching his eye, a pattern of wolves and dragons entwined, stitched in silver and crimson thread. The high collar felt stiff against his neck, and the heavy belt, inlaid with gleaming rubies, weighed awkwardly on his hips. He ran a hand over the fabric, marveling at its finery yet feeling strangely out of place.
"It's… different," Jon finally said, his tone noncommittal.
The seamstress exchanged a nervous glance with the tailor. "Is it not to your liking, Your Grace? We can make adjustments if needed."
Jon shook his head, turning to face them. "No, it's fine. It's just… not what I'm used to." He offered a faint smile to ease their nerves. "You've done excellent work."
The tailor bowed, his face a mix of pride and relief. "Thank you, Your Grace. It was an honor to design for such a momentous occasion."
As they gathered their tools and left the room, Jon returned his gaze to the mirror. A prince, he thought, though the word still felt foreign. Ned Stark had raised him to be humble, to find strength in duty rather than titles. Yet here he was, cloaked in finery fit for a conqueror.
Ghost observed him lazily from the rug, looking thoroughly content after receiving a treat from Piper before the fitting began. The direwolf's attachment to the young maid was unmistakable.
"So, what do you think, Ser Fury?" Jon asked, a hint of wry humor in his tone. "Do I look the part of a Crown Prince?"
Ghost tilted his head slightly at the sound of Jon's voice but didn't move from his spot, his crimson eyes half-closed in lazy contentment. The faintest wag of his tail was the only reply Jon received.
Jon chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I'll take that as a no."
The mirror reflected a man Jon hardly recognized. The prince in the glass was regal, commanding, and composed. The man inside, however, still grappled with the weight of expectations and the uncertainty of the future. He reached for the ornate clasp of his cloak, adjusting it with a precision born not of vanity but of habit, something to keep his hands busy.
A soft knock broke the silence. Jon turned as Lyanna entered, her lips curving into a proud smile as she saw him.
"You look so handsome, Aegon. My dear son."
"Thank you, Mother," Jon replied, returning her smile.
Lyanna stepped closer, her keen eyes observing the fine details of his tunic. She gave an approving nod.
"Beautiful work," she sighed. "I still can't believe my boy is getting married in a month."
"Me neither," Jon murmured, though his thoughts wandered to Faye.
He couldn't help but think of her, the memory of her in the swimming bath surfacing unbidden. She usually carried herself with modest composure, her hair always in a neat plait or elegant coiffure. Seeing her with her hair down, wet and naked, had been startling, and left a deeper impression than he cared to admit. Not that he had seen much, but still.
"How are things between you and Faye?" Lyanna asked softly.
Jon cleared his throat before managing to reply. "Good. We have talked and… things are fine."
"That's good to hear," Lyanna said warmly, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to give this union a chance."
Jon shifted uncomfortably. Decided to give this union a chance. That sounded strange to him. Had Aegon really thought treating Faye poorly would make things easier? Or somehow end their engagement? Perhaps he'd believed neglect might force the match to fail. Whatever his reasoning, it seemed immature and selfish.
Jon turned toward the door as two servants entered, carrying garments for him to change into. His injured arm, still wrapped in bandages, made their assistance a necessity.
"I will see you later, Aegon," Lyanna said before leaving the room.
Moments later, Rylen entered, bowing briefly. "Good morning, Your Grace. How are you feeling today?"
"I'm fine," Jon replied as one of the servants carefully removed his belt.
Rylen nodded. "That's good to hear. The Queen mentioned you should still take it slow, but is there anything I can assist you with today, Your Grace?"
Jon considered this before speaking. "Well, I'm meeting Lady Faye in the garden soon. But there is one thing I'd like to ask you."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"The falcon she kept as a companion… I believe she was quite attached to it, and I'd like to give her another one. Could you arrange that?"
"Certainly, Your Grace." Rylen paused thoughtfully. "If you recall, your sister's husband, Lord Willas, breeds hawks. They're said to be the finest in the realm. Would you like me to write to him on your behalf?"
Jon nodded thoughtfully, appreciating Rylen's attention to detail. "Yes, that would be perfect. Write to Lord Willas and see if he has one suitable to gift Lady Faye. Something well-trained, perhaps."
"Of course, Your Grace. I'll take care of it immediately," Rylen said with a small bow before stepping back to let the servants continue their work.
Jon stood silently as the servants carefully helped him out of the tunic, his mind already wandering to his upcoming meeting with Faye. Despite his best efforts, she occupied far more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.
As the servants draped a more casual doublet over his shoulders, he flexed his uninjured arm, testing the fit. "Thank you," he said to them, his tone polite but distracted.
Once they left, Jon turned to Ghost. "What do you think, boy? Will she like it?"
The direwolf tilted his head as if considering the question, then let out a soft huff. Jon chuckled. "I hope so too."
Straightening his collar, Jon took a steadying breath. This wasn't just about giving Faye a falcon or a token of kindness; it was about proving that he was different. That he wouldn't treat her with the indifference or cruelty she might have expected from Aegon.
With that thought, Jon left his chambers, Ghost padding silently at his heels. The two guards followed him at their usual polite distance. The walk to the gardens was brief, the morning sun casting long shadows across the stone pathways.
He spotted Faye sitting by the fountain, her back to him as she dipped her fingers into the clear water. Her hair was pinned up in a loose twist, and her posture was relaxed yet elegant. Her handmaiden, Alise, was nearby, standing with quiet attentiveness.
For a moment, Jon hesitated, watching her from a distance. She seemed so serene, the soft light catching the delicate curve of her neck as she leaned forward. He wondered briefly if his presence would disturb her peace, but he stepped forward all the same.
"Lady Faye," he called softly.
She turned, her expression unreadable at first, though her eyes warmed slightly at the sight of him. "Your Grace."
Jon offered her a small smile as he approached. "I hope I'm not keeping you waiting."
"Not at all," Faye replied, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "The gardens are lovely this morning."
"They are," Jon agreed, though his gaze remained fixed on her rather than the scenery.
Alise dipped into a deep curtsy, her gaze flickering briefly to Faye before returning to the ground. "Your Grace," she greeted him.
Ghost sat down beside Jon, his sharp eyes scanning the gardens while his tail swept the ground.
Jon inclined his head toward Alise in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Faye. "I thought it might be nice to walk together," he said, his tone a touch hesitant. He still wasn't sure how to navigate the delicate balance between formality and familiarity with her.
Faye's lips curved into a faint smile, and she stood gracefully, smoothing her skirts. "That would be lovely, Your Grace."
"Please, just Aegon," he said, his voice soft but firm.
Faye hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the propriety of it since they weren't alone, then nodded. "Aegon."
They began walking along the garden paths, Ghost padding silently behind them, a watchful shadow. Alise kept her distance, walking silently with the guards. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds filled the silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Jon found himself glancing at Faye out of the corner of his eye, catching the way the sunlight dappled her face through the canopy of trees.
"Do you often spend time here?" he asked finally, breaking the quiet.
"When I can," Faye replied. "The gardens remind me of home. We had nothing as grand as this, of course, but there were wildflowers in the meadows near my father's lands. Alise and I would pick them in the summers."
"Perhaps we should plant some of those here," Jon suggested, surprising himself with the thought. "Something familiar."
Faye looked at him, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, followed by a warmth that softened her features. "That's very thoughtful of you. I think I'd like that."
They walked on, the path curving toward a cluster of lilac bushes in full bloom. Jon felt the urge to say more, to bridge the gap between them, but the words didn't come easily. Instead, he stopped by one of the bushes and plucked a small sprig of flowers.
"For you," he said simply, holding it out to her.
Faye blinked, clearly taken aback, but she took the flowers with delicate fingers, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Aegon. They're lovely."
"Not as lovely as the company," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He braced himself for her reaction, half-expecting her to dismiss the comment as courtly flattery.
Instead, Faye glanced down at the flowers in her hand, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "You're kind," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.
"Just honest." Jon paused, hesitating before continuing. "About last night… I apologize again for disturbing your bath. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."
"It's fine, truly," Faye assured him, her tone light. "You were looking for Ser Fury. Besides, you seemed far more uncomfortable than I was."
Jon couldn't help but laugh at her observation. "That's probably true. Still, I'd hate for you to think I have a habit of… peeking at bathing women."
Faye tilted her head, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "I don't know about that," she teased. "But I doubt anyone would scold you for looking at me, even though we aren't married yet. It will be your right soon enough."
Jon's laughter faded, and he blinked at her, caught off guard by her words. The casual way she spoke of what would soon be his right only made him more aware of the weight of their impending marriage. Her tone had been light, even teasing, but he could sense a hint of something guarded beneath it, perhaps resignation or uncertainty.
"I don't think of it as a right," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "I'd never want you to feel like…like you don't have a choice. I'd rather earn your trust than assume anything."
Faye's expression softened, the humor fading from her eyes. "That's…kind of you, Aegon. More than most men would say."
"It's the truth," he replied firmly. "You deserve to feel safe. To feel valued. And if there's ever anything I do to make you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me."
Faye studied him for a moment, as if trying to discern whether he meant what he said. Then she gave a small nod, her fingers tightening slightly around the sprig of lilacs he had given her. "Thank you. That means more than you know."
They walked in silence for a few moments, the tension from the conversation dissipating into the gentle hum of the garden.
"Do you miss home?" Jon asked, wanting to shift to a lighter topic but still genuinely curious.
"Every day," Faye admitted, her voice tinged with melancholy. "But I suppose everyone does when they're away from the places and people they grew up with."
"I understand that," Jon said, thinking of Winterfell. The North felt like another world compared to the polished elegance of King's Landing. "But I hope you'll find something to love here, too."
She glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Perhaps I will."
Ghost trotted ahead of them, sniffing at a cluster of bushes, and Jon smiled faintly. "At least you'll always have Ser Fury for company."
Faye laughed softly. "Yes, he seems to have taken quite a liking to me, though I suspect it's more about the food than anything else." She paused, turning her gaze to the direwolf. "My apologies, Ser Fury, but I'm afraid I don't have any pies for you to steal this time."
Jon chuckled, watching as Ghost lifted his head at the mention of pies, his ears perking up in interest before he returned to sniffing the bushes.
"He has a nose for trouble and a stomach for it, too," Jon said, shaking his head. "Though I think he likes your company even without the promise of stolen pies."
Faye smiled, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Well, that's flattering, I suppose. I'm not sure I could compete with a good pie, though."
"Few can," Jon replied with mock solemnity, earning a soft laugh from her. He found himself watching her more closely in the moments she wasn't looking at him, the way her smile reached her eyes, the way the morning light softened her features. She seemed different here in the garden, away from the formality of court, freer somehow.
They continued their leisurely stroll, the conversation meandering from Ghost's antics to lighter topics. Jon found it surprisingly easy to talk to her. Despite the weight of their circumstances, Faye had a way of putting him at ease. It was something he hadn't expected but deeply appreciated.
As they reached a bench shaded by a flowering tree, Jon gestured for her to sit. "Would you like to rest for a moment?"
"Thank you," Faye said, smoothing her skirts as she sat gracefully. She glanced up at him, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Do you often come to the gardens?"
Jon shook his head as he sat beside her, leaving a respectable distance between them. "Not as often as I should, I suppose. It's peaceful here. A rare thing in this city."
Faye nodded, her gaze drifting to the blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. "It is peaceful. I enjoy looking at the sea from here."
Jon hesitated before speaking, his voice careful. "I heard about what happened, the cramp in your leg, how you nearly drowned. I'm sorry you had to endure those cruel rumors, suggesting it was…intentional. I should have been there to support you."
Faye's body stiffened, her hands tightening slightly in her lap. "Thank you," she murmured, her tone subdued.
"And I don't think my father was right to confine you to the Red Keep because of malicious gossip," Jon continued, his words steady. "If you'd like, once my arm heals, we could visit the seaside together."
"I would like that," she replied, though her voice remained tense. It was clear the subject was a difficult one for her.
Jon shifted slightly, seeking to lighten the mood. "Until then, you're always welcome to use the grand bathing chamber. And I promise," he added with a small smile, "to ensure that neither Ser Fury nor I will disturb you this time."
Faye's lips curved into a faint smile, though the tension in her posture lingered. "I appreciate that, Your Grace," she replied softly, glancing down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. "But truly, there's no need to concern yourself. I've grown used to handling such things."
Jon frowned, watching her carefully. He hated how resigned she sounded, as if enduring cruelty and isolation was something she simply accepted. "It's not right," he said firmly. "You shouldn't have to handle it alone."
Her gaze lifted to meet his, her expression unreadable. "You're kind to say that, but we both know the world we live in. Words are weapons, especially in court. People will always find something to say."
"Then let them," Jon replied, his voice low but steady. "You deserve better than their whispers. And if there's anything I can do to help, anything at all, you need only tell me."
Faye studied him for a long moment, as if trying to discern his sincerity. Finally, she let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Thank you, Your Grace. Your support means more than you know."
Jon nodded, sensing that she wasn't ready to dwell on the topic any longer. "It's Aegon, remember?" he said after a moment, his tone lightening.
"Right. Aegon."
Hearing her say the name was bittersweet. This was his life now, he was Aegon. Yet, he longed to hear her speak his real name, the one he had carried for most of his life. Jon. Just once.