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Chapter Text

Winterfell

"Wait, Bran!"

"You are too slow, sister."

Arya sprang into another run, chasing after her brother with ragged breaths. ahe laughed as she almost bumped against a tree, and snow fell on her hair and shoulders and covered the tip of her nose. Arya shrugged it off. They entered the Godswood, the place where her father prayed to the Old Gods. 

"Just wait, you-"

Bran laughed loudly and Arya saw him climb up a tree. He crawled up swiftly. Arya tried to follow but her feet slipped after she tried to put them over a snow-covered branch. She made a face at her little brother and tried to climb again but failed, groaning in exasperation.

"You lose, dear sister. You can't get up here," Bran said and grinned from over her, making er even more annoyed.

"You're not human, you know?" Arya crossed her arms. "No one can climb a tree this slippery."

"Just accept that I'm a better climber than you." Bran winked.

"No!" Arya said defiantly. "Your feet are just too small, is all."

"Oh of course." Bran took a small branch and threw it down at her, and it hit Arya on the face. She glared at him and tried to climb up again, but only to fail.

"Arya?" A voice sounded from afar.

"No!" She whined and looked up at Bran. "Please?"

Bran giggled and held out his hand. "You owe me one, sis."

Ned walked into the Godswood shouting his daughter's name. Septa Mordane said that she had run from her sewing lessons. Again. Though Ned quite admired his daughter's heroics, it was time she stopped running from her chores. 

He heard whispering voices and looked up; on a tree sat Bran and Arya.

"Arya," he sighed. "Get down from there. You too, Bran."

"No," Arya said and smirked at her father, throwing a kiss his way.

"Not me," Bran added, and smirked.

Ned smiled despite himself. He loved his children terribly but they were sometimes so difficult to deal with. 

"Septa Mordane is angry at you," he said. "You are fifteen, Arya. Why are you still running from your sewing lessons?"

"Yes, Father, I am fifteen. Why am I still having sewing lessons? I do not care about sewing. It only makes my fingers blister." She groaned and Bran giggled.

"Child," Ned came closer to the tree, and looked up at them with a kind smile. "You know your mother insists."

"But I don't want to sew! I want to practise with a sword but Robb isn't here and there is no one to do that with me!"

"That doesn't mean you can go on climbing trees," her father said. "And haven't I told you before? You shouldn't disturb the Gods."

"The Gods love us, Father!" Bran retorted.

"They do, Bran. But we shou-"

"Father, please!" Arya interrupted him. "Won't you tell her you couldn't find me?"

"That is what I've been doing for years, Arya."

After a few silent moments, Arya finally balanced herself using the branches and stood up on one. She sighed in defeat.

"You have to stop these lessons," she said.

"You know I cannot, little one. Your mother wouldn't like that."

"But I don't want to sew, Father. I want to fight."

"But you are a girl, you have to sew," Bran said. Arya rolled her eyes. Ned smiled warmly and held out his arms.

"My little wolf. Come down now."

Arya hesitated but then holding on tightly at a branch, hopped down the tree, into her father's arms. Ned laughed lightly and put her down, looking up at the tree again.

"Bran, child, you come down as well."

"But I didn't run off from sewing lessons!" Bran complained.

"No, but if your mother hears about this, you know what will happen."

Bran climbed down the tree with an an angry groan. Ned put his arms around both of them and smiled.

"Off you go now."

Arya walked fast ahead. She was tired of these stupid lessons. Lately, even her father had stopped supporting her. Her mother kept on going about how her future husband would want her to know these chores. But who needed a husband anyway? She could stay in Winterfell forever. It was her home, after all.

Septa Mordane and her sister were sitting together when she arrived. Sansa was always good at these things. Sewing, and other womanly things their mother insisted they both do. Arya never understood the need to learn such stupid things, especially when she would rather throw herself off the highest tower than marry someone. 

She looked around for her mother and breathed a sigh of relief when she was nowhere to be found. Sansa looked at her and stifled a laugh.

"Arya." She shook her head. "Gone again?"

Arya rolled her eyes and smiled.

"You need to stop running away, child," Septa Mordane scolded her. "Your mother is not happy with you."

"When is she ever," Arya mumbled under her breath.

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed.

"I am going to my room."

"Not until you finish your sewing, little Lady," the Septa ordered. "I am not a Lady!" Arya exclaimed in fury.

"Actually," her sister intervened before a fight would start. "I think we have sewed enough for today, dear Septa. My fingers hurt a bit."

Septa Mordane frowned upon her and Arya, but then nodded.

"Arya," Sansa called and pulled her along with herself out of the room. Once they were in the empty hallway, Sansa sighed.

"You can't run off every time."

"But I am tired of all this. You know I don't like these things."

"But, Arya," Sansa explained. "You have to. When you're married-"

"I won't marry!" Arya shouted. "That's your job!"

Sansa shook her head and laughed.

"Oh and what's yours?"

"Fighting beside Father."

"There is no war, or battles. You are a woman, Arya. Battles are not for women."

"When there is a war, then," Arya smirked.

"Mother won't like that," Sansa said.

"Aunt Lyanna would."

"Oh yes, she would. You even look like her and do things like she did." "

Father says she liked to fight. She was wild."

"Just like you."

Arya and Sansa's aunt Lyanna Stark was married to King Rhaegar Targaryen. The King and the Queen lived in King's Landing. It had been so long since Arya had seen her but Lyanna was still one of Arya's favourite people. She was the only woman who fought with swords like she wanted to, and rode horses and went to hunts. And she did not like sewing either.

"So where were you?" Sansa asked as they entered her room.

"I climbed a tree with Bran."

"Of course."

Sansa sat down on her bed. But as soon as she did, the door was again opened. Lady Catelyn walked in.

"Sansa, have you see-" Her eyes fell on Arya. "Here she is! Where have you been Arya?"

"I was with Bran," Arya said and rolled her eyes.

"And why were you with Bran when you should be attending your sewing lessons?"

"Because I wanted to," Arya mumbled.

"Arya! Girl, speak properly. Ladies don't-"

"I am not a Lady! I hate sewing!" She shouted, cutting her off. "I hate Septa Mordane and I hate that you try to command me every time to do something that I don't want!"

Arya stormed past them. She was tired of explaining things to people. She shouldn't have to explain anything to anyone! She was fifteen, for God's sake, and they still ordered her around.

She shut the door to her room behind her with a loud bang, and laid on the bed. She had to find a way to stop these stupid lessons entirely, before she killed herself or the Septa

King's Landing

"What's with the unusual weather?" 

Jon held out his hand through the window and felt the raindrops on his palm, cold and warm at the same time.

"Strange." Aegon frowned. "How long has it been since it rained here?"

"Longer than I remember," Jon murmured. The sky was clear with only a few clouds, the sun shining. Most days, no one in the South would expect rainfall. But the rain had come suddenly that morning, a rare and strange sight.

"Well, enough with the unnecessary talk, brother," Aegon smiled, patting Jon on the back. "Tell me, how was your trip?"

"Tiring, if nothing else. I must say the Tyrells are quite the hosts," Jon said and sighed, remembering the over-the-top hospitality of the Tyrells, especially of the Lady.

"I bet Margaery Tyrell was particularly clingy." Aegon winked.

Jon had went to Highgarden on behalf of his father. From the very first day that he had arrived, the Tyrell girl had followed him everywhere. She sat next to him on the feast, and her continuous talking had made Jon want to knock his head on the table. He would not have minded talking to her had she been interesting to talk with, but all she did was blatantly flirt with him. Being with Loras and Willas Tyrell didn't help either. The siblings were too close, always staying together. It gave Margaery all the more excuse to talk to Jon. As much as he wanted to shout to her face that batting her eyelashes would do no good in making him like her, he controlled himself for the sake of the friendship of their fathers. Mace Tyrell supported Rhaegar Targaryen wholeheartedly. The least Jon could do was act comfortable in front of everyone, even though that was very far from what he was actually feeling.

"Not her fault, brother. Maidens would fall at your feet if you ask them to," Aegon japed then laughed aloud.

"That doesn't mean I want them to."

"She wants to be your Queen, dear future King," Aegon said dramatically waving his hands in the air. Jon's half-brother was different from him in not only looks, but also his ways. Aegon was a much spirited and outgoing person, while Jon preferred to spend time by himself, a trait he inherited from his father. Aegon was silver haired, amethyst-eyed, and more graceful than Jon. Jon took more after his mother in case of his looks. He had dark hair and eyes, like his mother Lyanna. 

"That is never happening."

"We'll see," Aegon said teasingly. "You've got to get yourself a wife soon."

Jon turned to Aegon and frowned.

"So do you, Egg."

Aegon rolled his eyes. "I am a free man, brother. I don't have responsibilities to produce an heir. That's your job."

Jon sighed and glanced outside. The rain had stopped.

*****

"This way, Your Grace."

The King followed the old man and walked towards a faraway tent. The people around threw peculiar glances at them, staring at the King with scrutinizing eyes.

"Are you sure about this, Your Grace?" Jon Connington asked in a worried voice. "We could go back. I'll send other men to take this- Priestess back to the castle."

"No," Rhaegar replied calmly. "I want to hear what she has to say alone. There has been enough rumours already. I don't want the Lords at the castle to hear of this."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The old man left as soon as they arrived at the entrance of the tent, bowing. The King amd Jon Connington went inside and saw the place lit by candles. A woman stood with their back to them.

"You," Rhaegar's voice filled the tent. "Are you the Red Priestess?"

"One of many, yes." The woman turned. She was clad in red. A necklace with a ruby shone on her neck. Even her hair was red.

"What are these rumours you've been spreading, woman?" Jon asked in an annoyed tone.

"Patience, Jon," Rhaegar told him. Then turning to the woman he spoke, "You claim to have some vision. You know we do not believe in such things. Your God has no place here in King's Landing."

"R'hllor is everywhere, Your Grace. There is only one true God, and that is he. My visions tell me true, the Targaryens' rule are to come to an end."

"And how exactly?" Rhaegar asked, his own patience thinning by the moment.

The Priestess strode closer to them. She looked Rhaegar in the eye and said one word, "Stag."

Rhaegar inhaled sharply.

"That is not possible. Robert Baratheon is exiled," Jon said.

"I've seen what the future holds, Your Grace," she spoke still looking at Rhaegar. "He has both ice and fire in him. He's as much wolf as he's a dragon."

Rhaegar's eyes widened.

"How do I know you're not lying about Robert Baratheon?" He asked.

"I wouldn't dare lie to Your Grace. You could have me executed in a heartbeat."

Silence followed. Jon wanted to speak but then stopped himself. Something was bothering the King. Was he truly listening to this lunatic?

"There is a way to stop it, Your Grace." Both pairs of eyes looked at her. "I've seen how."

"Tell me," Rhaegar said.

"The North. There must be an alliance with the North. I've seen a Queen, beautiful and courageous. She will be the shield to your heir. Jon Targaryen must marry."

"This is ridiculous, Your Grace," Jon said as soon as the words left her mouth. "She is mad."

"Silence, Jon!" Rhaegar roared, and turned to the Priestess. "How do I know which Lady?"

"She is a Stark. One of your wife's family."

Rhaegar eyed the woman carefully. After a moment he spoke, "Jon, we are taking this woman to the castle." He turned to her. "You will come with us."

Without waiting for an answer, Rhaegar went out of the tent. "

Your Grace, you couldn't possibly have believed this witch."

Rhaegar stood calm. "She knows, Jon. Those words were what I'd said to Lyanna when Jon was born. She shouldn't have known them. Unless-"

"Maybe she had heard it from someone? Maybe she's tricking you into believing her."

"Only Lyanna and I were present. It is not possible."

"But, Your Grace-"

"We have to get back to the castle. I must speak with my wife. A marriage is a small price to pay. And it's also time Jon took a wife."

"I am still not convinced she isn't lying, Your Grace."

"If she is, she will soon be executed for lying to her King. And it won't be inconvenient to marry Jon to one of the Stark girls."

Jon was skeptical but he nodded.

"There are tales of the older daughter's beauty throughout Westeros. She is also said to be a well-educated and capable Lady. Perhaps-"

"The older daughter of Stark, then," Rhaegar said, interrupting. "Sansa."

Chapter Text

King's Landing

"And the day grows stranger," Aegon whined as he and Jon walked towards their Father's study. Jon shook his head and walked ahead of his brother.

"Must you whine about everything?"

"I take pleasure in expressing my feelings, stoneman."

"I am not a stoneman." Jon replied and glared at his brother.

They reached the door to the study and Aegon smirked at Jon.

"I bet he's going to marry you off to Margaery Tyrell." He patted Jon hard on the back.

"You are saying it as if I will be the wife and she the husband." Jon frowned and opened the door, both of them walking inside.

"Oh I have no doubt of it." Jon glared at his brother again and turned to look in front of him. His parents were sitting in the study. It was a big hall, with a writing desk in the center and chairs scattered around. Their Father spent most of his time in the study, reading or writing. It wasn't everyday the family got gathered there

"Aegon, Jon, come and sit," Lyanna bid them, smiling warmly. Jon and Aegon each kissed his mother on the cheek.

"Why have you called us, Father? Is something the matter?" Jon asked. He and Aegon took a seat beside his mother.

"Jon," Lyanna said laying a hand on his arm. Jon watched her eyes move to his father then again back to him.

"Your mother and I have decided that it's time you took a Lady wife, Jon," Rhaegar spoke.

Jon turned to look at Aegon who was grinning at him like an idiot. He groaned unhappily. The last thing he wanted was to marry, and the mere thought of his betrothed being Margaery Tyrell made him shake with horror.

"No! You cannot do that! I am not going to marry- so soon."

"Is it Margaery Tyrell, Father?" Aegon asked, interrupting him and not the least trying to hide his amusement at the situation.

"What?" Rhaegar frowned.

"Margaery? Do you like Margaery, Jon?" Lyanna asked and gasped.

"Oh, yes he does," Aegon smirked and nodded his head.

"Shut up, Egg!" Jon groaned. He turned to Rhaegar. "Why the hurry, Father? There is a lot of time for me to choose a wife."

Rhaegar sighed and stood up, slowly pacing around the room. "There is something your mother and I have to tell you." The seriousness in his voice was enough to wipe the grin out of Aegon's face. Jon looked worriedly at his father.

"Connington and I went to see someone today," he continued. "There is a witch who lives in the outskirts of the city. Varys claimed she had been spreading rumours relating to the Crown and our family. I went personally to see her today, to hear these rumours with my own ears. She claims that... the Targaryens' rule will end. "

"Must be another fanatic," Aegon commented.

"I thought so too, but she knows things she shouldn't have. She worships a God named R'hllor."

"You truly believe her words, Father? We know no God by that name," Jon asked.

"I have enough reason to do so, son. She also says you should marry."

"There is a big chance she is lying," Aegon said again.

"I think so too, Egg," Lyanna spoke. "But if this is what gives your Father his peace of mind."

Jon sighed and looked at his parents. Could he refuse them? Aegon was right, it was his job to produce heirs.

"Who must I marry?" He asked.

"Sansa Stark, your cousin and Lyanna's niece. The eldest daughter of Lord Stark."

Jon tried to remember his cousins. He had heard of them, but had never got to meet them. He had never been to Winterfell, but his mother always talked about it as if it were the most beautiful place in Westeros. Jon had never understood how anything so cold could be beautiful to anyone, but maybe that was just him, being born in the warmth of King's Landing.

"I haven't met her," he said simply.

"I know. I have also seen her but once. But she is said to be very beautiful. I know you will grow to love her. I will leave for Winterfell tomorrow," Rhaegar declared. "I will send a raven to Lord Stark."

"Aren't we rushing things, my love?" Lyanna asked. "Ned should be given time to think."

"They won't marry at once. I will bring Sansa Stark here to King's Landing with me. Get to know her, Jon."

"Do I have a choice?" Jon smiled lightly.

"Not exactly, it seems," Aegon spoke. "At least, it isn't Margaery Tyrell."

"Yes." Jon sighed. Thank the Gods it wasn't.

Winterfell

Catelyn had always hoped that some day her daughters would marry great Lords. At least Sansa would. Arya's behaviour sometimes worried her; no one could make a wife out of a woman so untamed. She was such a nuisance, her manners all improper, her appearance disheveled. All like her dear aunt. But her aunt was married to a King. Catelyn doubted it would be the case for Arya. So, she had focused all her attention on grooming the older girl. Since her childhood, Catelyn had brushed Sansa's hair an sewed her the most beautiful dresses, all in the hopes that some day her daughter would appear as a proper and beautiful Lady and find a good husband and grow a family.

The raven arrived before the break of dawn. Ned read it and quickly walked to their chambers, asking for her to follow him. He closed the door behind them and turned to her.

"The King's raven, Cat."

"What does he say?"

Ned hesitated before saying, "He says he wants Sansa to marry Jon."

"Gods!" Catelyn exclaimed. Sansa? Married? All her wishes were coming true. Sansa, the future Queen, married to Jon Targaryen. It was everything she ever wished for. A good Lord is nothing in comparison to a Prince and future King.

"Oh, Ned, it is such great news! Such a good match! Didn't I tell you Ned? She will marry a great man, I told you. Yes, yes, Jon is a great man. The future king of Westeros! Oh, she will be so happy! So happy, indeed!"

But Ned did not share his wife's enthusiasm. His mind went to Rhaegar's words. He'd said that he would arrive in Winterfell within a few weeks. The King hadn't been in Winterfell for twenty years. The hurry seemed strange to Ned.

"Ned, do tell me you accept this match. We couldn't have asked for anything better! Oh, dear sweet Sansa! She will be so, so happy!"

"The King's coming here," he said, not answering her question.

"Well, it will give us time to get Sansa ready, won't it? Tell me, you will accept, Ned. Please!" She begged.

Ned sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I? It's the King."

*****

Seeing the King brought a smile to Ned's lips. Rhaegar Targaryen was a great King, and a greater man. His sister had chosen well. Ned remembered the last time he'd seen both of them together. It was two years after Jon was born. Rhaegar hadn't visited Winterfell after that. Lyanna came a few times, until her duties as a Queen and a mother prevented her to do so.

"Ned," the King smiled warmly.

"Your Grace," Ned kneeled before him. "Winterfell is yours."

The King nodded. Ned rose and the King embraced him.

"We're brothers," he said simply. Ned smiled. "Show me your family."

Catelyn came forward and bowed. She started introducing him to the children. Bran stood between Arya and Rickon, and Sansa to Arya's side. Rhaegar smiled at all of them. Sansa was all grace, she smiled and bowed and her voice ringed like bells when she spoke. Bran and Rickon were too impatient to leave. Bran held Rickon by the hand to stop him from running away. The little boy kept tugging impatiently to free his hand.

Ned's eyes turned to the youngest girl. Arya. She kept fidgeting in her place, occasionally pulling the hem of her dress and scrunching up her nose. That girl had the wolf-blood. Maybe Rhaegar saw it too. He walked to her and smiled warmly.

"Lady Arya."

"Your Grace," she greeted and bowed, collecting herself.

Rhaegar laid his hand on her head. "You look like your aunt, little wolf."

Arya was surprised by the warm greeting. She looked at the King, who was looking back at her fondly. And just like that, she grinned, and decided that she indeed liked Rhaegar Targaryen.

Ned and the King started talking and Arya silently slipped out from the crowd. She saw Rickon and Bran running and was about to follow them when someone laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Were you going to wander off again?" Her mother asked.

"I have greeted the King already. Must I stay now?"

"Child, the King is here to talk about your sister's marriage. You need to stay with Sansa, this is good news for her."

"The King seems like a good man. He won't mind me running off," Arya whined.

"But it is not proper. You should go to your sister, help her with her nerves."

"Why must I?"

"Arya, be a Lady for once in your life and stay with your sister! I command you," her mother glared.

"It's not fair!" Arya muttered angrily and went in search of her sister.

Sansa was in her room, pacing from one side to another. She was wearing a dress of red silk. It matched beautifully with her auburn hair. Arya couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Sansa had always been the more beautiful sister. She had her mother's looks: auburn hair and Tully blue eyes. Arya was more Northern-looking, with dark wavy hair and grey eyes. Arya had always felt overshadowed by her sister's beauty. Most of the times she didn't care, but sometimes she had no choice but to. Sansa started muttering as soon as Arya entered the room.

"Do you know what Mother said, Arya? She said the King wants me to go to King's Landing to stay with his family. Wasn't it enough that they're marrying me to a stranger?"

Arya sighed and propped on the bed, flat on her stomach.

"Come on, Sansa. Wasn't it always your dream to marry a Knight who would fight in tourneys for you? Here's your dream, only, instead of a Knight, there's a Prince. Isn't it better?"

"Yes, I do want to marry a Knight. But not a stranger, and I don't want to leave Winterfell." Hearing the hurt in her voice, Arya sat up and smiled at her.

"It's alright. You'll be among royals. All your dreams will come true. Didn't I tell you marrying was your job?"

"I do want to marry, Arya. It's all I ever wanted, but-," Sansa's voice trailed off, but then she looked at Arya and her eyes shone. "Come with me, Arya!"

"What?" Arya frowned.

Sansa clasped her hands.

"Come with me to King's Landing! We could stay together! I will be so lonely, Arya, please say yes. Say you'll come with me. It'll only be for a few days, then you could come back."

"Sansa," Arya held her sister's at arms' length and stared at her. "Do you even know what you're saying?"

"Please, Arya. I promise you will like it there. And Aunt Lyanna will be there too. I don't want to go alone. Please, please," Sansa pleaded.

Arya looked at her sister strangely. She couldn't go to King's Landing. She would be bored out of her wits. It would be warm and sunny and full of people. And the worst sort of people too. Sansa was talking rather stupid things lately.

"Maybe the marriage is getting to your head. Do you really think I'd go? Me, Sansa?" She shook her head. "Never! Never!"

Sansa clasped her hands tighter. "Arya, please." Then remembering something, Sansa smirked at her sister. "How about you come to King's Landing with me and I give you something in return?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "What do you have that I'd want? I don't want your pretty dresses or hair pins."

"Oh, no, no, sweet sister. I promise that if you come with me to King's Landing, I will convince mother to stop your sewing lessons. Forever."

Arya stared at her sister again. Now that was a bargain. As much as Arya wanted to shout at her sister again that she couldn't go, the offer sounded too tempting. No more needles or prickling. And she could practise swordplay during those hours.

"You can't do that," she frowned at Sansa.

"Yes, I can. And I will. You just have to say you'll come with me."

Arya thought over the offer again. Yes, Sansa could stop the lessons if she wanted. Mother listened to Sansa's every request, and even though Arya was not sure whether her mother would agree to this, one look at Sansa convinced her that her sister was very much confident that she could indeed accomplish the task.

"If you don't stop-"

"I will!" Sansa cut her off. She had a big grin on her face.

"All right, I'll go. But just for a few days."

Sansa squealed and hugged her sister tightly. Arya sighed. Maybe she was making a big mistake, but who cared? The stupid lessons would stop, and she wouldn't have to see Septa Mordane's face for too long. Yes, it wasn't that bad, right?

But she knew that she would be going to the most boring place in the world. She wondered if she would be able to practice with a sword every morning, or if she would have to wear long and uncomfortable dresses everyday. She would also have to bow and curtsy and she had always been terrible at it. And the worst of all, she would have to stay among Ladies, who would look at her and comment on her manners and appearance. Not that she cared, but it would be too irritating. Arya groaned.

King's Landing would surely give her nightmares that night.

Chapter Text

The Kingsroad

The carriage moved rather slowly to Arya's liking. The men stopped occasionally to make sure the road was safe, and she groaned each time they did. Her sister was curiously looking out of the windows and enjoying the scenery. Arya didn't mind watching too, but at some point during the ride, her curiousity had turned to utter boredom. How long could someone watch the same road, same trees and the same sky?

As the carriage halted for what she supposed was the hundredth time, she cursed under her breath, catching the attention of her dear sister who instantly turned to her with a horrified look on her face.

"Arya!"

Arya threw her head back and closed her eyes.

"At this pace, I believe we are going to reach King's Landing by the end of the month," she muttered.

"It is only because there are rumours of robbers in these places," Sansa explained. "They need to make sure we are safe."

"Sansa, we are safe. Who would dare raid the King anyway? Arya chanted nonchalantly.

"Yes, of course. Even if they did, you would protect us," Sansa said teasingly.

Arya's eyes shone with mirth as she slid one hand under her skirts and pulled out a dagger. Sansa almost shrieked.

"Well, I do have this."

"Oh, dear Gods. You are such a peculiar creature! Hiding a dagger under your skirts!" Sansa shook her head. "I suggest you keep it hidden, and please try not to hurt yourself with it."

"Sansa, I've been using daggers since forever. Don't worry I won't hurt anyone," she said, putting the dagger away. "Unless of course the situation calls for it," she added, winking.

Suddenly someone knocked at the carriage door. Sansa opened it and their Father smiled at them.

"We will stop here for a few hours. Would you like to come out?"

"Oh yes!" Arya heaved a sigh of relief. She nearly jumped out of the carriage and breathed in. "I am so tired of sitting."

Ned patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Some merchants were robbed a few hours ago here," he explained. "We will wait here until the men make sure the road is safe."

"Isn't that what they've been doing since we left?"

Ned shook his head. "We have to keep the King safe."

"How far are we from King's Landing?"

"Five or six hours at this pace."

Arya nodded and looked around.

"Father?" Sansa asked, getting out of the carriage.

"Yes, child?"

"Is there any lake or river around?"

"Yes," Ned smiled. "Why?"

"I feel lightheaded. Can I go and wash my face?"

"I don't think that will be wise, Sansa. The place is not safe."

"Please, Father. You can come with me, then you don't have to worry," Sansa insisted.

Ned sighed and hesitatingly nodded at her daughter. "All right."

"Can I come too?" Arya asked excitingly.

"No, little wolf. You stay here."

"Father!" She pouted, and Ned laughed lightly.

"Your sister and I will be back soon. You wait here."

Arya groaned in dissatisfaction. As Ned and Sansa walked away, Arya leaned against the door of her carriage, arms crossed under her chest.

She was right. They hadn't even arrived in King's Landing and she was bored out of her mind. Gods knew what would happen once she did reach her destination. She kicked a pebble with her foot, sending it among the bushes on the side of the road.

"Lady Arya." She turned to see the King smiling fondly at her.

"Your Grace," she smiled lightly. "If you are looking for Father, he's gone with Sansa. They'll be back soon."

"Tell me Lady Arya, are you happy to be visiting King's Landing?"

Arya frowned at his question and replied, "I do not like to be far from home, Your Grace."

Rhaegar approached her with slow steps. Arya studied his face. His features were different from her Father's, but in his eyes Arya found the same gravity that her Father's eyes possessed. It made her wonder if Rhaegar Targaryen was anything like her Father, or were they as different as their appearances suggested them to be.

"You wolves cherish the cold. I asked your father once if he wanted to be the Hand and come stay in King's Landing. He politely refused though."

"My Father loves home," Arya said, somewhat proudly.

"Yes, he does. And so does your Aunt."

"I've never seen her."

"You will soon," he smiled, and Arya noticed the way his eyes lightened.

"I am sure she will be very pleased to meet you."

"So will I, Your Grace."

King's Landing

"Stop blabbering, both of you. They're here. Come on now."

Jon hadn't seen his mother this happy for a long time. She was running around the castle with a big grin on her face, making sure everything was in place and perfect. She was in a wonderfully happy state. Jon wished his uncle would visit King's Landing more, if it would make his Mother this happy. He wished he could share his mother's happiness though. He was going to meet his betrothed soon. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Sansa Stark was said to be very beautiful and a graceful lady, but could he love her? Of course, he would marry her because his parents had told him to, but love was another matter entirely. His brother had worsened the situation, talking about it all the time. Aegon said he did it because he was arguably more experienced with wooing women than Jon. Jon didn't argue; arguing with Aegon was a bad move when you have a headache.

Jon looked ahead and noticed the group of people approaching.

"There you go, brother. Your fate is approaching," Aegon said.

As they came closer, Lyanna lost her patience and went ahead of the others. Jon noticed a man with dark hair riding beside his Father. His hair fell on his shoulders.

"He looks like you," Aegon said, surprise in his voice.

"I look like him."

The men unmounted from their horses as soon as they reached the gates. Lyanna let out an unladylike shriek and jumped into her brother's arms. Jon looked at Rhaegar, who stood silently beside them. He didn't show discomfort at the gesture, much to Jon's surprise.

"Aegon. Jon. Come."

The brothers walked toward the men. Eddard Stark bowed before them, and up close, Jon was striken by the familarity between his and his uncle's features.

Jon felt Aegon nudge him, and he turned to face him. He was looking at something else, and Jon turned his eyes to the object of his brothers's attention.

A girl got out of the carriage behind the men. Her hair was auburn, and fell to her waist; she wore a deep blue gown that matched her eyes, which were as blue as the sky. She was beautiful in a gentle and elegant way. She smiled warmly and shyly and walked forward.

"My daughter, Sansa, Your Graces."

Just then, another girl came out of the carriage, and Jon's breath got caught in his throat.

The girl looked so much like him, it was astounding. Her skin was pale and there was a carelessness about her looks. She looked at him and Jon noticed her grey eyes. She looked like a mirror to him; her dark-hair fell in waves down her shoulder. She wasn't as beautiful as her sister, but there was something very attractive about her. Attractive, striking and wolfish.

"And that is Arya," Ned smiled. "Doesn't she look like you, Lya?"

Jon looked at both the women. Yes, they did look alike.

Lyanna kissed Sansa on the cheek and whispered something in her ear, at which Sansa blushed. She then went to Arya, who was staring at her aunt as if she'd seen a ghost. Lyanna held her at arms's length and gasped. "You do look like me, dear one."

Kissing her cheek, Lyanna smiled warmly at her. Jon noticed how the girl's eyes filled with pride and admiration at his mother's words.

"Jon," his Father called him. Before he could look his way, his eyes met Arya's for the second time. Her brows frowned and she bit her lip, staring him in the eye. Something made him look away.

"Jon," his Father called again. "Lady Sansa, your betrothed."

Jon turned to the older girl, who smiled shyly at him. He took her hand and kissed it; Sansa kept her gaze on the ground. She then turned to Aegon, who took her hand and kissed it as well, at which Sansa blushed a deep shade of red. Jon looked at Aegon, who was smiling and staring at Sansa.

"And Lady Arya."

She came in front of him and gave him a nonchalant smile. Jon was surprised, as women usually seemed shy when first meeting the royal family, highborn or not. But this girl was standing there as if they were just some ordinary people she had come to visit; she wasn't affected at all, contrary to her sister. Jon took her hand to kiss it, but she scoffed.

"I don't think there's need to do that," she muttered.

"Arya," her Father warned, shaking his head. Jon heard his mother chuckle and whisper something to his Father and his Uncle, making both of them join in her laughter.

"Oh fine, go on with it." Jon couldn't help but smile at her words, as he pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. She frowned at him again before going to Aegon, who was smirking.

"Well, well, the wolf doesn't like courtesies now, does she?" He asked teasingly.

"I don't like useless things."

"Well, that makes the two of us then." Arya rolled her eyes and smiled at Aegon. He didn't kiss her hand, just simply shook it. Arya seemed pleased at that.

"Come inside the castle, children. You must be tired," Lyanna bid them and went inside. Sansa followed his mother, and Jon followed Sansa.

"I'm more like bored," he heard Arya mutter under her breath.

"Well, the journey is more enjoyable when you ride a horse," Aegon said.

"If only they'd let me."

"You like riding?" Aegon asked, surprised.

"Of course," she replied proudly.

"Would you like a race then sometime?"

"Really?" Arya exclaimed with wonder.

"Of course," Aegon said. Then he lowered his voice, "Just don't get me in trouble."

They entered the hall and Jon realised he had been eavesdropping all the way. He paced ahead of the two. His Father and Ned Stark were talking; they stopped just as they saw him.

"Nephew," Ned addressed him, first time since his arrival.

"Uncle." Jon smiled.

"Do you like Lady Sansa, Jon?" Rhaegar asked.

"I haven't spoken to her yet," Jon said. "But I am sure I'll like her."

"I hope you do, son. Marriages do not work if you don't love each other," Ned spoke.

"I am sure he will." Rhaegar looked over Jon's shoulder and smiled. "Aegon and Arya seem to be getting along."

"It's surprising," her Father said. "Arya doesn't get along much with others. Aegon seems like a good lad."

"He is," Rhaegar replied. "And I think they have befriended each other so quickly because Aegon is a bit like Arya."

"I hope they don't bring the castle down," Jon said, amused.

"Keep an eye on them, Jon, will you?" Ned joked.

Jon nodded. "I will."

Their talk was interrupted by Lyanna, who instructed Jon to escort Lady Sansa to her chambers, as the girls were probably too tired. Aegon offered to escort Arya, who was more than happy to comply. Jon linked his arms with his betrothed, who still looked intimidated by all of it. Arya took Aegon's arm as both of them followed Jon and Sansa, laughing and talking. Both the girls had been given rooms adjacent to each other.

"I hope you don't mind Arya's behaviour," Sansa said to Jon.

"Of course not. I have grown used to all that living with Aegon."

Sansa nodded.

"Are you happy with this match, Lady Sansa?" Jon asked.

She smiled gently, "My Father knows what is right for me, Prince Jon. I can rely on him to make decisions for me, as I did in this case as well."

"It seems," Jon smiled at her. "We are both bound by duty."

Aegon let out a rather loud laugh, followed by Arya's own voice.

"They are not, it seems."

"No, they aren't."

When they reached her room, they bowed politely to each other. Aegon and Arya walked ahead, and stopped when they reached her room. Arya thanked him and glanced at Jon, then went inside her room.

Aegon was beside Jon in seconds, putting his arm around his shoulder. He was still laughing.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Jon remarked.

"I think I have found my match, brother."

"Have you now?" Jon asked sarcasticly.

"And I thought I was wild. Seven hells! Jon, can you believe she rides horses, and knows archery and swordfighting!"

"Swordfighting, truly?" Jon asked surprised.

"Yes, and she even challenged me to a duel."

"That good?"

"She even told me about her sister. Come on, Jon," Aegon grinned. "I will tell you about your sweet Lady Sansa."

Jon didn't object but honestly, the dark haired girl intrigued him more than his betrothed did at this moment.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

"So," Arya asked, "You do not want to be King?"

"No."

Aegon ran his fingers through the grass under his feet. He and Arya had left the castle in the dead of the night. He hadn't thought Arya was serious about horse riding, but he was provent wrong. And after three days of persisting, he finally had to comply. He didn't mind; he liked Arya.

They had raced for about half an hour, then decided to stop when Aegon insisted the horses needed to rest. Of course, Arya teased him about being too afraid to lose. He only scoffed in return. They had tied the horses to a tree and sat down near a pool. Arya was sitting clutching her knees to her chest, occasionally dipping her hands in the water.

"And why is that? I thought everyone wants to be King."

"I don't. It's too many responsibilities, and of course there's Jon. He was prophesised, or so Father says, and he turned out to be the more serious one as we grew up," Aegon winked. "He will be a good King, as I told Father. And after months of persuading, he finally consented."

"Your brother is a bit...," Arya mused, "boring. And he doesn't talk much."

Aegon laughed. "Jon is a good man. As I said, being the Crown Prince is too much responsibility, but one of us has to do it. I think he does it for me, and I love him all the more for it."

"Maybe that's why he doesn't laugh much as well." Arya bit her lip and added after a little while, in a whisper, "I'd like to hear him laugh."

Aegon raised a brow at Arya. "Would you now?"

She elbowed him hard.

"You have been paying attention to my brother then. It's alright, we both are used to such reactions from women."

"Oh, shut up. Your brother is betrothed to my sister. Have you no shame?"

Aegon shrugged.

"My sister was talking about you the other night," Arya said nonchalantly.

Aegon's eyes turned to her. "What of me?"

"Oh, just that you are very pretty," Arya grinned at him. "I think she likes you."

"Who's shameless now?"

"Oh, I don't care about shame. It is widely known."

They sat and talked for about an hour. Aegon pondered over what she'd said. Arya's sister was really beautiful, and he must admit he kept staring at her from time to time. They had found themselves alone once, but she had been too nervous to talk, and surprisingly, Aegon was too. She was though, to be married to be to his brother. It was unsignificant what she thought of him; only what she thought of his brother mattered.

They returned to the castle well after midnight.They made their way to the stables quietly. The stableboy was sleeping and Arya shook him up. He took both of their horses and unsaddled them, after Aegon ordered him not to utter a word about it to anyone, and handed him a dragon.

"We should do that again sometime," Arya said as both of them entered the castle.

"I will not lose next time, Stark."

"You," she said, pointing at him, "will lose every-"

"What are you two doing at this hour?" Aegon turned and saw Connington glaring at them. Aegon sighed. Now his Father will know, and he'll have to explain everything. But before that...

"You go, I'll handle him," Aegon whispered to Arya, who hestitantly nodded. She bid him goodnight and was about to go when Connington's voice roared again.

"I was talking to both of you. You too, Lady Stark."

Arya frowned at the man and her mouth twitched. "Not your bloody problem where-"

"Arya," Aegon interrupted her. He held her shoulders and pleaded, "Please go to your room, I'll handle this." Arya meant to retort but then stopped herself, then throwing a mean glance at the other man, went on her way.

"Prince Aegon, this is very careless of you. What were you doing with the girl? And what was she wearing?"

"She was wearing breeches, Lord Connington," Aegon explained as if talking to a toddler. "And we went riding."

"At this hour?" Connington raised his brow suspiciously.

"Yes. At this hour." Aegon grew a little impatient but kept his calm. "I would like to go to my room, if you don't mind, My Lord. It is very late. Goodnight."

Connington still kept his piercing gaze intact. Aegon wasn't intimidated by it. He didn't like the man much, and he was the last person he wanted to spend time talking to at this hour.

"Goodnight, Prince Aegon," he said. Aegon left his presence as soon as he did.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It was vivid. Both the armies, with banners soaring high in the wind, met each other in a battle cry. Steel clashed against steel, filling the air with sounds of metal and scent of blood and death. The three headed dragon as well as the stag fell down on the mud, as the men stampeded over them. As someone rushed to hold it up, another came from behind and crushed his skull with a warhammer. The same man continued killing everyone as they screamed. The men reduced in number, as the dead bodies started piling up. Suddenly, everyone stopped and glanced up. The sky turned white, and a moment later, snow started falling. It covered the blood, the bodies and the man looked up.The hammer dropped from his hand, and he dropped to his knees on the ground, staring at the sky with an emptiness in his eyes. He stared into oblivion.

A sword rested on his shoulder, it's edge covered in blood.The man who held it pulled up the dragon banner with one hand and gave it to the hooded person to his side. The person took it, and his hood fell off. No, her. The woman had the direwolf on her chest. Her icy stare was fixed on the kneeling man, as the snowfall gradually lessened, until the only people left in the field was her, the kneeling man, and the one with the sword.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A guard opened the door and bowed.

"What is it?" Rhaegar asked.

"The Priestess is here to see Your Grace."

Rhaegar shot a hard glance at the guard and nodded. Ned offered to leave but Rhaegar insisted he stayed. The King had told him about the prophecy. Although Ned was a little angry that Rhaegar was only betrothing his daughter and Jon because of some prophecy fortold by someone who was probably a fanatic, he didn't speak against it yet. There must be some reason the King was listening to this Priestess. The guard left and a moment later the woman entered. She was tall and graceful, Ned noticed. She threw a suspicious look at Ned, then looked at Rhaegar.

"I need to speak to you, Your Grace. There is something important I must tell you."

"Speak, then."

"Your Grace...," she looked at Ned.

"It is alright. Lord Stark will hear what you have to say."

"If you say so, Your Grace. I have seen another vision. It is...," she hesitated. "About Lord Stark's daughter."

Ned sat straight. "What about Sansa?"

"Not the older one, My Lord. The younger. Arya Stark."

"What about Arya?" Ned's voice was impatient.

"She was helping the Targaryens in the coming war. I've seen her face clearly. There is no doubt it is her."

"Nonsense!" Ned roared.

"My visions are never wrong, Your Grace," the woman spoke to Rhaegar. "She has a big part to play in the prophecy. I suggest Lord Stark let her stay in King's Landing with her sister. It is for the better-"

"This is nonsense, Your Grace! Arya is a girl. How can she be involved in a war?"

Ned waited for Rhaegar to reply who was in deep thought. The woman repeated her words. Ned wanted to put her in a cell and lock her up. He worshipped the Old Gods, and didn't believe her. The King dismissed the woman, and after she left, turned to Ned.

"I think she should stay, Ned."

"But, Your Grace, it's Arya! She would never stay. And most of all, she won't stay for such reasons."

"Then convince her. Sansa would like her company, and I think Arya will like it here too. You think the prophecy is a hoax, then you don't have to worry."

"I wil not put my daughter's life in danger, Your Grace." He added, "Why do you believe this woman?"

"I do not believe her. But I believe she has no reason to lie to me. Morever, she has no reason to lie about Arya. She must have said the truth."

"What is she getting in return for all of this?" Ned asked.

"Her life."

Ned sighed. Arya would never agree. He would have to tell Sansa first, so that she could help him in convincing her. Ned was still suspicious about this Priestess, but nothing would come of arguing against Rhaegar. He would have gladly convinced Arya to stay with her sister, but he was worried that this prophecy, fake or not, would hurt his daughters in some way, and he can't let that happen.

"Will she be safe, Your Grace?"

"I promise you, Ned. No harm would come upon your daughters. They will be safe and protected here." Rhaegar smiled and Ned nodded.

Arya was going to hate him, but he didn't have a choice. He only hoped Sansa would help him. He shouldn't have brought her here. If he only knew Rhaegar's true intentions in the matter: about the prophecy, he would never have agreed to the match. Sansa was a Lady, and knew her manners. But Arya, she would surely end up picking up a fight with every other person. She is young, what if she makes enemies? What if Sansa does? But it wouldn't matter for Sansa, because she would be married to the Prince. She will have power, Arya won't. His head grew heavy.

The South wasn't a place for the Northerners.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

She was leaning against a tree, her arms crossed under her chest. Jon made his way silently towards her, but she heard him and turned.

"What are you doing here?" She asked angrily.

"I was looking for you."

"You don't have to."

"You don't want to stay here, do you?"

"Isn't it evident?" Arya shot daggers at him with her eyes. Jon knew she wasn't angry at him. She was just angry because she wouldn't go back to her home.

"I know you will miss Winterfell, but I think you'll like it here. You should give it a chance."

"Really? No, I don't think so. You should go, Prince Jon. I do not want to talk right now."

"Lady Arya," Jon said casually. "King's Landing is not a bad place. I know you don't want to stay, but everyone insists you do. Even me." Arya turned to him and Jon noticed that her rage had subsided. Not entirely, but still. Her eyes met his and he let out a sigh of relief. She was actually considering this. He added, "I heard you and Aegon went riding, and I know you had fun. Think about it, it might actually be for the best. It's good to try new things sometimes. It'll be an adventure."

He eagerly waited for her reply, but none came. Jon threw a warm smile her way and turned to go when her voice stopped him.

"Wait."

He looked at her.

"Don't call me Lady. I hate the word, and if you keep on calling me that, I'll hate you too," she said. Jon grinned in spite of himself, as well as Arya. "And the next time Aegon and I go racing, you can come with us. Just don't tell anyone."

"Your secret's safe with me, My Lady."

Arya glared at him, but then started laughing and Jon joined her. This was the first time they had shared a laugh, and Jon wondered why they hadn't done this before.

He took in the way her eyes shone in the sunshine, the way her hair was pulled up, and a few strands fell down her neck in curls. A shiver ran down his spine. She is beautiful, he realised. But she doesn't know it.

His hand involuntarily went to her face and he moved a stray strand of hair from her face. Her laughter stopped and their eyes met, and Jon's fingertips caressed the side of her face. They stood like that for a moment, but the spell broke and she moved away from his touch.

"You should go," she suggested, averting her eyes away from him.

Jon nodded but she wasn't looking at him. He turned around and walked away, without saying anything. The feeling of her skin still lingered on his fingers.

At a distance he saw Sansa and his Mother talking, and it hit him hard. What was he doing? He was to be married to Sansa, and he couldn't stop thinking about her sister. Was it really for the best for her to stay?

Mayhaps for her, but not for him it seemed.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Sansa opened her windows and the summer breeze hit her face. A smile made its way to her face, and she closed her eyes. King's Landing was warm and different, and it was good to hear other birds than the ravens and the crows.

Maybe it won't be that bad, she thought. Adapting to the place would certainly take time, but she could do it. She was a Stark and a Tully. If her Mother could go live in the North, she could certainly live here in the South.

And there was also a added advantage; Arya had finally agreed to stay. After much persuading from herself and their Father, her sister had finally consented to the plan. Sansa couldn't be happier. She loved her sister, and it would be less lonely with Arya by her side. She was surprised though because she hadn't thought Arya would agree. But for some reason, she did, and it was enough.

Sansa knocked on Arya's door. Once. Twice. Thrice. Finally, the dark haired girl opened the door and peeked out. Her face changed into one of relief when she saw her.

"It's only you." She smiled. "Come on in."

Sansa walked into the room and the door clicked behind her.

"Lady Sansa." She turned and saw Aegon behind her, hidden by the door, grinning at her.

"Prince Aegon," she uttered in surprise, "what are you doing here?"

"I needed to see your sister."

"Why?"

"She...," Aegon hesitated and looked at Arya. By the look on her face, Sansa knew she was trying to hide a smirk; she was biting her lip.

She noticed the cloth lying on her bed.

"What's that?" Before Arya could even attempt to hide it, Sansa strode to her bed and took the cloth in her hand.

"Sans-"

The cloth fell and revealed a dagger. It was shiny and new and Sansa held it carefully, not letting the edges hurt her. The hilt had a grey direwolf on it; in it's mouth a red ruby.

"Aegon gifted me that," Arya said, her voice low. She was probably afraid Sansa won't let her have it. "It's Valyrian steel," she added.

Sansa put the dagger on the bed as carefully as she had taken it, and turned to Aegon with a glare.

"Why are you providing my sister with murder weapons?"

Aegon smiled teasingly, and winked at Arya. "Your sister wanted a sword. You should thank me all I got her was a dagger."

"But why should you get her such things? It is not proper for a Lady-"

"I am no Lady!" Arya exclaimed.

"I've seen her with weapons, Lady Sansa. She won't hurt herself, I'm sure. And it is for her protection."

"But Prince Aegon-"

"Stop, both of you!" They turned to Arya who rolled her eyes at them. She turned to Aegon. "Why don't you escort Sansa to the breakfast table? I will follow you after getting dressed." Only then Sansa noticed Arya was still in her nightgown. She shook her head and sighed.

Before Sansa could protest, Aegon offered her his arm, and Sansa, like any other Lady, had no choice but to accept. She didn't leaving without glaring at Arya one last time, though.

"Are you still cross?" Aegon asked, as they walked in the hallway.

"I worry about Arya." Sansa said, "Back home, Father was the only one who could tame her. She likes to get in trouble."

"Your sister is a spirited person. You don't have to worry, though."

Sansa nodded and smiled.

"Although," she looked at him. "A dagger as a gift is too much, don't you think?"

"I wanted to get her something as a gift, and she asked for a sword. I would have gotten her one, but decided against it the last moment. I think the dagger suits her."

"Such things can only suit Arya," Sansa mused.

"You know what would suit you?" Aegon stopped and turned to her. Their eyes met and locked on each other's. Sansa felt a blush creep up to her cheeks. Slowly, Aegon tilted her chin up with his finger. Her skin burned where he touched her. "Roses," he whispered.

Aegon leaned closer, their eyes still locked. His gaze occasionally fell on her lips and she gulped. "The red would match perfectly with your hair." Sansa didn't know when her grip on his arm tightened or when their bodies came in such close proximity to each other. She was lost in those purple eyes.

Aegon smiled and she broke out of her reverie, stepping back.

"We should get going," Aegon said, and she nodded. She didn't look at him; she could still feel the heat in her cheeks.

Sansa broke her fast with the royal family, Arya as always being the last to enter. She noticed Aegon look at her, but she maintained her composure. She didn't want to act like a blushing maid infront of so many people. She decided to talk to Arya as soon as they finished eating. Whatever the Prince says, Arya was still a woman and a Lady. A dagger had no business with women.

She didn't get the chance though. As soon aas they finished eating, Lyanna asked Jon to show Sansa the part of the garden that had been recently renovated. Lyanna proposed to show Arya around, and both of them walked away. Aegon excused himself as soon as they did, saying that he had to go somewhere. He doesn't enjoy these things, Sansa decided.

After much walking, Sansa sat down on a bench, Jon taking his place by her side.

"King's Landing is quite appealing, I must admit."

"It is," Jon agreed. "I am pleased you like it, My Lady."

Sansa smiled at him. "You will rule all of the Seven Kingdoms one day. Don't you get nervous?"

"It is my destiny to do so."

Sansa's fingers caressed the flowers near her; the roses. She remembered Aegon's words, and pushed them away with quite difficulty. For now.

"What about this marriage? Is it your destiny too?"

"I...," Jon hesitated. "I think it is my duty." After a moment, he added, "We must love each other for this marriage to work."

"Maybe we will," she said. "Maybe..."

"Maybe we won't," he finished her words.

Sansa heard laughing and standing up, glanced around. Jon stood up as well. She saw the Queen with her sister. Lyanna was spinning a little boy up in her arms. Arya was at her side, smiling. Sansa knew she didn't like the company of little children very much, but she seemed pleased to give company to their Aunt. Lyanna didn't look like a Queen at the moment. She looked younger, a maiden almost.

"She is beautiful," Sansa commented, looking at her Aunt.

"She is," Jon replied, his voice deep. "So beautiful." Sansa frowned and followed Jon's gaze.

No, he wasn't looking at his Mother. He was staring. At Arya.

"Jon?" She asked, but he didn't hear.

She called his name again and he turned his gaze to her.

"I am sorry," his words fumbled. "I think I am not feeling well."

"It is alright," Sansa said.

"Would you mind if I take your leave?"

"Not at all."

"Thank you, My Lady." He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. Sansa smiled in return. Jon looked Arya's way one last time and went the opposite way.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Arya, can I ask you something?"

Arya hummed, without taking her eyes off the book. Sansa had persuaded her to return the dagger to Aegon. But Arya started explaining to her how a dagger could be used for safety, how no harm could possibly come to her from a small blade as that, how a sword would've been much worse, and how it was considered rude to return gifts. Of course, Sansa could never win a debate with Arya, and at last, had no option but to let her keep it. And now here she was, reading a book about how Valyrian steel is forged; Sansa had no clue what the fuss was all about.

"What do you think about Jon?" That seemed to get her attention. Arya closed her book and looked at Sansa, biting her lip.

"He is...," she mused. "Nice."

"Nice?"

"Nice."

"Really?" Sansa raised her brow.

"Why are you asking me about Jon all of a sudden?" Arya asked, now sitting up straight and looking at her curiously.

"Would you punch me if I tell you something?"

Arya frowned. "Go on."

"I think Jon likes you."

Arya's eyes widened and she stood up.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I just think he likes you." Sansa couldn't stop smiling at her sister. "He couldn't stop staring at you."

"It's probably because he thinks I'm ugly and dirty."

"Oh shut up," Sansa exclaimed. "He thinks you're beautiful."

"That is enough." Arya picked up the book. "Don't you have anything better to do, Sansa. He's your betrothed, for God's sake!"

"I know! I was just telling you what I think. I think he really-"

"I am going to my room!" She stormed past her and opened the door.

"Arya!" Sansa called.

"I think maybe you've drank too much wine. Maybe you'll be sober tomorrow morning, and won't say these ridiculous things," Arya said over her shoulder and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Sansa's smile wouldn't leave her lips, and it soon turned to giggling. She was surprised that she wasn't angry at the fact her betrothed seemed to like another woman. She should've been furious, but she wasn't. She tried to remember if she had really drank too much wine; no, she hadn't.

At night she dreamt of a wedding in the snow, a field of roses and haunting purple eyes.

Storm's End

He walked into the hall. Unlike the other time he had been here, it was empty now. The man behind him urged him to walk faster, and he complied. This wasn't a place for him. Why was he here?

The doors opened to another room, and the man pushed him inside. This one was smaller- although bigger than most he'd been in- than the previous one. The man pushed him to his knees.

"My Lord. I have brought him," the man announced. He noticed a few shadows at the corner of the room move, and walk towards him.

The first face he recognized as belonging to the Lord of Storm's End, Stannis Baratheon. He noticed how the Lord was staring at him, and the way his mouth twitched after a few moments.

The other shadow moved and a muscular man appeared out of the shadows. Gendry stared at the man. Was it just his imagination or did the man really look like him?

"The bastard, My Lords."

Stannis approached him first. He tilted his head up by clutching his hair.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Gendry shook his head.

"Do you know who your Father is?" He asked again.

"No, Milord."

"I am," the man beside him roared and Gendry glanced up to look at him. "I am your Father, bastard. Get up."

Gendry stood up.

"Do you know me?" The man asked.

"No, Milord."

Stannis scoffed.

"I am Robert Baratheon," the man replied. "And you are going to be Gendry Baratheon. Tell me, will you swear your allegience to me?"

Gendry gaped at him. Baratheon? He had never known about his Father. His Mother was a whore who had died when he was ten.

Was this really true? He was the son of Robert Baratheon? The nephew of the Lord of Storm's End? He had heard of the exiled Lord, how he had gotten the gift of mercy from the Silver King and fled the Seven Kingdoms to the far East. Maybe not. He's still here.

"Milord," he said. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because there is a war coming, son. And I am going to need all the men I can get. I've heard you make weapons, is it true?"

"Yes, Milord."

"From today," he began, "you are Gendry Baratheon, the only son of Robert Baratheon, and you'll be one of my advisors."

"Isn't that too soon, Robert?" Stannis asked. "This one's still unexperienced. And yet to be trusted."

"But he's my blood," Robert replied. "Tell me, Gendry. You'll get a position in my army, a name and money. All you have to do is swear your allegiance, and you won't be a bastard any more."

How could he refuse? This was everything he would ever want, and it was a thousand times better than working in a forge. Even if he didn't know this man, he had nothing to lose, and so much to gain.

"Yes, Milord. I accept," he replied without hesitation.

Robert nodded and Gendry noticed the hard lines on his face. "But remember, if you betray me, you'll die the most painful death."

"I swear on my Mother's grave, I won't."

"Good. Get up." Stannis ordered the man beside Gendry to take him to a room, and give him clothes.

"Remember Gendry, if you betray me, I'll kill you. And it won't be pleasant."

Gendry nodded and followed the man. He wasn't overambitious. He was just being given a chance to turn his miserable life into a worthy one. He knew the brothers didn't trust him yet. But soon, he'd earn it. Fortune was calling at his door, and he wasn't going to send it away.

Gendry Baratheon. The name didn't sound bad.

Chapter Text

Winterfell

Ned was busy reading letters when Jory Cassel announced the arrival of another raven.

"From King's Landing, My Lord," Jory announced, handing the letter to him.

Ned took it quickly and a smile formed on his face as soon as he started reading it.

"Who is it from, My Lord?"

"Arya," Ned said. He read it twice and put the letter on the table.

"Is she alright?" Jory asked again.

"Yes. She writes that she isn't as miserable as she first thought she'd be. But she writes that she's still angry with me."

Jory smiled. "Lady Arya has never been away from Winterfell before. She misses My Lord and Lady Stark and her brothers."

"Yes. I wonder Jory, if I took the right decision to leave them there."

"Both the ladies are direwolves, My Lord," Jory assured him. "They will be fine."

Ned nodded. He dismissed Jory and leaned back in his chair. The castle felt lonelier than before with the girls gone. Bran and Rickon were the only ones running around now. Although Sansa wasn't as michievious as the younger children, she used to play snowball fights sometimes with them. Ned missed Robb too. His oldest son was in Dorne, squiring for Doran Martell. Ned had written to him a few weeks ago, informing him of the girls' departure. Robb's reply came a few days later:

Dear Father,

I cannot tell you of my suprise at learning about Sansa's betrothal. It was too quick, don't you think? And Arya! I never imagined Arya to leave Winterfell, not at least till she marries, which is an even stranger thought. But as much as I would've preferred to be there, I am sure you have made the decisions for the betterment of our family. I've heard of Jon Targaryen. He is a said to be a good man. Arianne speaks highly of Jon's brother Aegon as well.

I have something else to tell you, Father. I am finding it very pleasant staying in Dorne. The weather suits me and so do the people. I have mentioned Arianne before, haven't I? She has grown to be my most trusted companion in Dorne. She is a very spirited woman, and although I had thought of her ways to be peculiar, I have grown to admire them. And might I add, love them.

I will ask you directly Father. If you give me your consent, I would like to ask Lady Arianne to be my wife. I am very much in love with her, and I can tell she is too. You can speak to Lord Martell. I am sure he will consent. He has been nothing but kind to me.

I will not press you to be quick with your decision. I know you will want to think on it. Please tell Mother of my wishes, and offer my apologies for not writing to her myself. I am hoping you will agree to the match, Father. My choice won't disappoint you.

I will be eagerly waiting for your answer. Give my love to Mother, Bran and Rickon. And if you write to my sisters, to them also. I miss Winterfell.

Robb Stark.

Ned hadn't thought of an answer yet. He had talked to Catelyn. She was as shocked as him, but then she was a Mother, and her love for her son overcame any doubts she had about the match and she agreed readily, adding that she was glad her son was happy. Ned wished for Robb's happiness too. He was sure Arianne Martell was a strong and capable woman. Ned respected Doran Martell's wisdom, and expected his daughter to be no less wise.

Maybe I should agree. Only, would Robb be truly happy? He didn't want Robb to regret himself.

And he couldn't deny the political support Dorne would provide Winterfell. The North was a vast kingdom, but every house needed allies. One can't predict war.

"Arya wrote to me," Ned said as he laid in his bed beside Catelyn. Her half-lidded eyes opened instantly as she clutched his tunic and turned to face him.

"Is she alright? And Sansa?"

"They are both fine. She mentions there is to be feast there next week. She asked me to come."

"Will you?" Cat asked.

"No, I won't," he said simply. "I'll write to Lya."

Cat sighed and rolled onto her back.

"I miss them, Ned."

"As do I."

"What have you thought about Robb's betrothal?" She asked again.

Ned fell silent for some time, then replied,

"I will write to Doran Martell tomorrow."

"I hoped you would, Ned. Robb would be very happy."

Ned closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Robb was to be the Lord of Winterfell after him. It was good of him to make choices for himself. Only, Ned hoped he had not made a mistake.

King's Landing

Jon walked to the training ground. It was usually unoccupied at this hour of the day, and the best time to have the place to himself. He liked dueling with his brother and other knights, but more than that he preferred practising alone, with no one to judge him if his sword slipped from his hand, or if he grew tired easily.

He was surprised when he saw someone already practising there. Jon instantly recognized who it was and his lips curved into a smile.

"You weren't lying then," he said. Arya turned and her face turned to one of surprise and relief when she saw him.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"You told Aegon you know swordfighting," Jon said, approaching her. "I am glad you're not a liar."

Arya curled her lip.

"I don't lie, stupid." Her eyes went wide when she realised what she'dd just said, and she bit her lip. "I shouldn't have called you that," she mumbled.

Jon laughed and Arya glanced up at him, frowning.

"You can call me anything, Arya. Even stupid."

Arya nodded. "It's not an insult anyway. I call everyone stupid." Jon laughed harder at that and she retorted quickly, "Not everyone. I mean, not Father or Mother. Just my siblings and my friends and-"

"Arya," she looked up at him. He was looking at her intently. "You can call me stupid. It's alright. I won't mind." He looked around. "It's still not daybreak. I didn't expect anyone would be here."

"I didn't expect you as well, actually."

Jon looked at the sword in her hands. "Who gave you that?"

"I borrowed it from a friend."

"Friend?" Jon raised his brow. "Egg?"

"No...,"

"Who then?"

Arya didn't reply and seemed to contemplate something. Jon noticed her eyes sparkle as she pointed her sword at his own. "Duel with me."

"What?" Jon frowned. "No."

"Come on! Don't you want to know who gave me this?"

"Mayhaps I don't."

"Don't worry." She edged closer to him. "I won't go too hard on you." She smirked.

Jon thought about it for a few moments. "Just once." He smirked. "But I have a condition."

"What?"

"If I win, you give me something I want. And if you win, I do the same."

Arya narrowed her eyes. "Am I falling in some kind of trap?"

"No, you're not." Jon laughed. "It's win or lose. What's a challenge without a prize?"

Arya hesitated, then nodded. "Alright, then."

They took their positions facing each other. Jon was the first to attack. He slid to his left and lunged at her, but she was quick. She dodged it easily and stepped away from him. She was good at dodging, Jon learned after a few moves. She could tire me out. Arya didn't attack much, but she was swift. Jon was feeling a little tired by attacking so he took a step back. They both circled each other, but this time he didn't attack and waited. As he had guessed, after a few minutes, Arya stormed at him. But he was stronger. Jon pushed her sword with his, but she escaped again. And again. Until one time she grew impatient and came too close. Jon swiftly disarmed her, and before she could pick up the sword, he pushed her until her back was against a tree. They both panted as Jon lowered his own weapon. Arya was heaving and when she looked up at him, Jon felt the irresistable urge to kiss her full lips. He resisted though, and instead smiled down at her.

"You lose."

Arya took a few more breaths before answering, her breathing still uneven, "What's your prize?"

"I'll think about it," Jon said, stepping away from her and picking up his sword. He sheathed it in its scabbard. Arya picked up hers.

"You are quick, I'll give you that," he said.

"Still I lost."

Jon sat on the ground and told her to sit next to him. Arya sat cross-legged.

"You could've tired me out," he smiled at her. "If you weren't so impatient."

Arya didn't reply, and Jon wondered if he had said something wrong. He was about to apologize when she spoke,

"Train me."

He looked at her questioningly.

"Teach me swordplay," she said again.

"Your sister will kill me," Jon jested.

"If she knows." The smirk on Arya's face was so contagious he felt himself mirror the movement immediately. "And you won't tell her. Right?"

"Maybe."

"I will take that as a yes." She looked around. "I should go," she said, but before she could get up, Jon grasped her hand.

"What about my prize?" He asked.

"What do you want?"

"Dance with me."

Arya looked at him as if he was mad.

"Now?"

"Of course not. At the feast. Save a dance for me."

"I don't dance," she retorted.

"I won the duel. You have to give me what I ask of you."

Arya eyed him carefully. Her lips twitched as she repeated,

"I don't dance, Jon."

"It will be your first time, then." He didn't try to hide the amusement in his voice.

She waited for a moment then let out a sigh.

"Don't blame me if I fall down."

"Not at all, My Lady." Jon grinned at the way she rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow at this hour?"

"Tomorrow." She pulled her hand from his and Jon realised he had been holding it all along. She got up and started walking away when Jon called her name. She turned.

"You didn't tell me who gave you that sword," he said.

Arya laughed. "Your mother." And before he could reply, she ran off. Of course, who else? Jon laid back on the grass and looked up. Arya. Just the name seemed to make him smile. He thought about her sister. Sansa was a sweet girl, but he didn't feel for her what he was beginning to feel for Arya. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her face. He wanted to make her laugh, the way she would throw her head back while doing so. He couldn't help but feel jealous of his brother for making her laugh like that. But Aegon always had a way with people. Jon didn't, but for her he wanted to be that person.

A strange thought crossed his mind. What would his Father say if he proposed marrying Arya instead? What would his Mother and Uncle say? But he didn't know if Arya even liked him yet. And Sansa, it would be unfair to Sansa.

His Father should have betrothed him to Arya instead. He could love her, he was sure. He couldn't say the same for Sansa.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Your Father should be here soon," Arya told him as he took his side beside her. Aegon and Sansa were sitting, but stood up as Rhaegar and Lyanna entered, Jon Connington behind them. Lyanna smiled warmly at all of them and sat down beside Sansa.

"The Tyrells are visiting King's Landing," the King announced. "Mace Tyrell, his youngest son Loras, and Margaery Tyrell."

Jon wanted to curse aloud.

"Margaery!" Aegon exclaimed, and Jon glanced at him. He was dangerously close to breaking into peals of laughter. "Jon's best friend!"

Everyone turned to look at him and he groaned. "Egg," he warned.

"Even if you don't like her, Jon," his Father spoke. "You will still have to be civil to her. She won't repeat her ways now. You are already betrothed to Lady Sansa."

Jon nodded.

"That is all, children. I hope you all are ready for the feast." Lyanna smiled. She looked at Arya, and took Sansa's hand. "I'm sorry Ned won't be here."

Arya looked sad but she nodded anyway.

The three left and there were only him, Aegon, Arya and Sansa left in the room. Jon looked once at Aegon and he bursted out laughing.

"Oh, brother. The horror on your face!"

"What so funny?" Arya asked curiously and shifted to Aegon's side.

"She is Jon's best friend. Didn't I tell you?"

"Really?" Sansa asked, just as amused as the other two.

"No!" Jon exclaimed. "She is...,"

"She likes clinging to Jon," Aegon said.

"Clinging?" Arya asked. She was smiling teasingly at him. "Really?"

"Oh, shush. Both of you! Don't tease him," Sansa scolded them, and Jon wanted to thank her so much until her next words. "Jon won't like to hear bad things about his best friend."

Jon groaned loudly, and all of them laughed.

"Isn't it late? You all should retire to your rooms," he said.

"You are impatient for the morning, aren't you, brother?"

"Actually, I am." Jon glanced at Arya. "There is a really interesting meeting tomorrow morning." She looked at him and bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

"I'll take your leave," Sansa said and bowed. She took Arya's arm and took her along with her.

"You think no one notices, don't you?" Aegon asked him as soon as the sisters were out of sight.

"What do you mean?"

"The way you look at her," he replied, brow raised, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Jon feigned nonchalance. "I-I don't know what you're saying."

Aegon snickered. "Come on," he said, throwing his arm over Jon's shoulder. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Arya sheathed her sword as she heaved. Jon as a teacher wasn't so bad. Actually, he was quite good in swordfighting, better than most men she had seen. He seemed to have perfected the art.

They practised for one hour. Jon showed her the best way to hold a sword without putting too much pressure on the body. She listened to him carefully. She was quite enjoying herself, and she liked his company.

When Jon told her it was enough for one day, she almost scowled at him, but stopped herself at the last moment, instead agreeing to his words. He looked at her surprised. This is probably the first time I've agreed to something so quickly.

"Who gave you that dagger?" Jon asked, pointing at the dagger on her hip. Arya pulled it out and showed it to him.

"Aegon did."

Jon arched his brow and kept looking at her. "You two are getting quite close."

"He is my friend, and he understands me," she said, putting away the dagger. She realised he had been staring at her, and added,

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Arya flinched nervously when Jon inched closer to her. He was so close. Their breathing had still not returned to normal from the fighting, and she thought she could hear his heartbeat because of the close proximity.

"What if I am jealous?" He asked. Arya stiffened at the question; she was looking everywhere but at him. What the hell is happening to me!

"You cannot be." She took a deep breath and looked up at him finally. "You should not be."

"Your cheeks are red," he teased.

"No, they're not!" She frowned up at him, and felt them grow warm. She unknowingly touched her left cheek, when she felt Jon's fingers brush her own, and the heat from his palm was enough to make her pull her hand away frantically; his still in place.

"I need to go back," she whispered. "The day is breaking."

Jon leaned close, "I want to-"

"I really should go," she interrupted his words and stepped back. He didn't try to stop her but Arya could sense the tension in the air. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to break out of her chest. And what was with her blushing?

When he didn't say anything, she turned around and ran. She didn't know if the sudden heaviness in her heart was because he didn't try to stop her, or because she wanted him to.

Arya carefully hid the sword under her bed. Aunt Lyanna had given it to her as a present, after they both talked about swordfighting. She had told Arya how much she had enjoyed it herself, and had sneaked off with Arya's father and Uncle Brandon when they were young, to practice.

The sword was a gift, she had said, from Uncle Brandon to her, and she had kept it with her all these years.

She gave it to Arya when she said how much she wanted to practice. But Lyanna warned her against everyone knowing about it.

"You are still a Lady, even though we both know you hate it," she had smiled and said.

Jon was the only one who knew, and Arya felt in her heart he wouldn't tell anyone. She was starting to like him more than she did when she first met him. He seemed too serious. But now that he was smiling more around her, she realised that her opinion was changing.

And he seemed to like her too. He laughed with her and teased her. Although, sometimes the way he looked at her made her curious. And after what happened today...

He was standing too close to her. She shouldn't have let him do that, and her cheeks were burning. She had thought he was going to kiss her. She tried hard to push the image away of his face close to hers, but to no avail.

What would Sansa think? She is going to marry him. She was thinking about her sister's betrothed in a way she wasn't supposed to, and it made her feel so stupid. I am acting like a silly girl. Like someone from Sansa's songs.

It won't do. She had to keep those thoughts at bay.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Aegon stood next to her as the King and the Queen and Jon went forward to greet the Tyrells.

"You should go ahead, too," Arya remarked. She saw a beautiful girl, probably of Sansa's age, come out of the carriage. Her face was brightened with a smile.

"I despise those Tyrells. I don't even have an idea why they're here."

Arya snorted. "The girl seems nice."

Aegon shook his head. "You only think that because you don't know her yet. Margaery Tyrell is a devious thing." He pointed to her. "Look how she eyes Jon like he is some prey of hers."

The look on Jon's face made Arya want to laugh out loud. He looked like he was one step away from strangling her when she gave her his hand, and smiled sweetly at him. Arya scowled.

"Doesn't she know he's taken? Look at her, smiling like a stupid-"

"Oh my my," Aegon leaned down and smirked at her, "are you jealous, Arya Stark? I never thought I'd see the day. Do you fancy my brother? I mean, if you do, I-"

"Shut. Up." Aegon sneered, and nugded her with his elbow.

"How can you jest about things like this? Your brother is going to marry my sister." Aegon went silent, and replied after a few moments,

"It isn't their choice." His voice was strained. "They deserve a choice."

Before Arya could respond, Sansa wallked to them. Arya noticed the look that passed between Aegon and Sansa. It was the same look Jon gave her.

A laugh forced her to turn her eyes back to the guests. A man, very handsome, was speaking with Jon, who seemed to be at more ease than before.

"The Knight of Flowers," Sansa worded her guess.

Aegon nodded.

The party made their way to the castle. The fat man beside the King was surely Mace Tyrell. The handsome man walked after his Father. At one point, his eyes met Arya's and he beamed at her.

The introductions were made. Aegon acted true to his words; the nod he offered them was lax. The girl was too busy paying attention to Jon. She was beautiful, Arya noticed. Her hair was falling down her back, and her smile was capable of making men fall down on their knees.

"We would like if you'd break your fast with us, Lord Tyrell," the King said.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace. I would like that very much."

Arya's eyes couldn't help but stray to Margaery Tyrell. She had taken Jon's arm and was speaking to him carelessly. She looked at Sansa, but she wasn't noticing. Arya's hands clenched, and she couldn't place the reason behind the twinge in her heart everytime she looked their way.

"He doesn't like her, don't worry," Aegon said from beside her. Arya dropped her fork down in surprise. Aegon offered her another one.

"I know. I am not worrying about anything," she replied.

"I am not a fool, you know. Contrary to what you and my brother think," he said, sipping his wine, "and neither blind."

"Stop saying these things!"

"Arya." He placed his hand gently over hers, which was placed in her lap. "I am not judging, but it is too obvious."

"But, I haven't done anything," she whispered.

He looked at her and smiled. "Not intentionally."

"I am not in love with him," she said. It was the first time she had said the word out loud. I can't be.

"Mayhaps you're not. But you do like him more than you think, Arya."

"Don't," she said. He didn't reply.

She can't love Jon. It would be wrong in all ways possible. Sansa would never forgive her, and more than that she wouldn't forgive herself if she was the reason behind Sansa's unhappiness.

Aegon was wrong. He didn't know her that well. She wasn't a girl who was interested in love and romance. She had always been more interested in weapons than men.

Until Jon

She had to go back to being the girl she once was, who didn't let such thoughts enter her mind.

She missed her home.

She was standing watching the guards practice when someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned and saw Loras Tyrell standing with his arms crossed.

"A dragon for your thoughts?"

"I don't know you."

"We were introduced in the morning, if I remember correctly." He walked until he was by her side.

"You do. I don't." She was in no mood to speak.

He chuckled, and held out a hand to her, "Loras Tyrell. And you're Arya Stark."

She offered hers and he took it. He pressed the back of her hand to his lips. Arya would've protested, if only she had cared.

"Your sister is betrothed to Prince Jon," he commented.

"Unfortunate for your sister."

Loras arched his brow at her, then shook his head in amusement. "Margaery's actions are too perceptible, are they not?"

"Your sister should know it won't be taken lightly by some."

"Not by you too, it seems."

"Ser Loras," Arya feigned a smile. "You musn't blame me for worrying about my sister's future."

"Of course not. It is only expected." He brushed his hair away from his face with his fingers. "Margaery must be kept in check, I agree."

"Oh, I am sure she is a very clever girl. She will surely know what's best for her." Arya smiled. "And what's not."

Loras hummed. They stood side by side for some time, until the men dispersed. Loras bowed to her.

"I will see you, Lady Arya."

Not. Lady. But she didn't care. He was too cunning, she could make that out by the way he talked. She decided to follow Aegon's footsteps. It's better to avoid these Tyrells. Arya didn't correct him, as she'd have corrected most people. Maybe it's better if he doesn't call me by my name. She didn't want to become friendly with him.

"Of course."

He nodded and left.

Arya decided to keep her distance from the Tyrells. There wasn't a chance in thousands she was going to befriend Margaery, and while Loras seemed nicer, he was not to be trusted too. The way his mouth curved sharply at her words made him look sly and scheming.

She met Jon when she was retiring to her room that night. He was leaning against the corridor, and beamed at her when she was near him. Arya made a note in her mind not to speak too much or act too close to him. She had to stop it before it was too late. I have to compose myself.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to you today." His voice was soft and somewhat filled with regret.

"You were busy. I understand."

He frowned. "If you're talking about Margaery. You know how much I hate her, but Father said-"

"It's fine, Jon." She sighed, and forced out a smile. "I will see you tomorrow. Good night."

Jon grabbed her arm before she could walk past him.

"What's wrong? Have I done something?"

"No." Arya bit her lip to keep her emotions in control. "I just need to sleep."

"No. Something is wrong. Tell me." he said and pulled her arm tighter. She faced him and propped her chin up.

"Leave my arm, Prince Jon. I need to go to my room."

His eyes widened at her words and he loosened his grip on her arm. She pulled it free and faced away from him.

"Goodnight, My Lady," he said stiffly.

"Goodnight."

She heard the sound of his footsteps until they faded away, leaving her alone in the corridor.

She walked past Sansa's room. The door was open so she peeked in. There was no one inside. But Sansa had retired half an hour ago. Where is she?

It had been more than forty days since they arrived in King's Landing. In the first few days, Arya had explored almost the entire castle. The loneliest corners, the hideouts of some of the guards and kitchen-maids. Aegon had showed her the chambers Jon and he used to play in when they were little. It had a replica of Balerion's head hanged on one of its walls. The room was deserted now, although the maids were instructed to keep it clean. The eyes of the dragon had shone like rubies when Arya had looked at it.

Arya had searched everywhere she could, but she didn't find Sansa. She at last decided to go wait for her in her room when voices from an abandoned part of the castle halted her in her tracks.

She walked closer, careful not to make too much noise. She turned round a corner and saw it.

She put her hand around her mouth instantly to stop the loud gasp from escaping her mouth.

Sansa and Aegon stood there, arms wrapped around each other, their lips meeting in a frenzy. Arya froze in her spot in shock for a few minutes before retreating the same way she had came. They had not seen her.

So, that was why Aegon was talking this morning like he was! He said he won't judge her, because he was commiting the same mistake he accused her of. He likes Sansa! That explained the glances, the smiles and the blushing she had been witness to for the last month. And Sansa liked him too, for God's sake!

What have we done? Everything was getting messed up. Arya was blaming herself for possibly destroying Sansa's marriage, but Sansa had contributed the most to that. Arya didn't know much about court affairs, but she knew it was treason what Aegon and Sansa were committing. She had never expected Sansa to be so carefree in her decisions. She was the one who always thought twice about everything, she put her duties first. What happened?

Arya wasn't one to judge, but her sister was dragging herself into a pit she wouldn't be able to get out of. All of us are. Arya wasn't sure what she felt about Jon, or what he felt about her, but she had tried to keep her distance from him, and although it was more painful than she would acknowlege, she had almost succeeded. But these two were crushing everything she did. She knew and feared what the result of this affair might be. She would've gladly congratulated her sister for finding love. Aegon was one of the best men she knew, but not like this.

She waited in Sansa's room for her to return. She didn't come back, and Arya feared the worst. Please, don't Sansa. If anyone found out, the punishment would be grave. Sansa, her gentle sister.

Here they were, the serious and dutiful sister loving another man than her bethrothed and committing treason, and the wild and carefree sister worrying about the consequences of it all.

What has King's Landing done to us?

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Lyanna walked with soft steps. When she reached the door, she entered the room and closed it behind her. The room was filled with candles, and the heat was almost unbearable because of the glowing fireplace.

"Your Grace," the woman bowed.

Lyanna nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs. "I want to ask you something."

"Anything, Your Grace."

"Is all of this really true? There has been no reports of Robert Baratheon gathering an army or of preparing to declare war. I must tell you the King is not going to be pleased if all of this is for nothing."

"The betrothal is not for nothing, Your Grace. It is necessary."

"Are you sure it's Sansa Stark?"

"I have told the King. It is a Stark I saw in my visions. A woman of beauty and courage. She is meant to be Queen."

"Sansa and Jon are not in love," Lyanna said. "It's been more than a month. There is no affection other than friendship. I don't want my son to enter a marriage without love."

The Priestess looked surprised. "But they will love each other. Their love will strengthen them and guide them."

"I am not letting them marry unless I am sure of both of their happiness. Tell me," Lyanna asked. "What if he comes to love another?"

"I have played my part, Your Grace. I have told you what I've seen. What is bound to happen. And it will happen, sooner or later. The Prince will love only one."

Lyanna stood up. "I do not properly understand what all this is. The King is too keen on prophecies. But I am not, and nor will my son live a life of an unhappily married man because of one. I ask you one last time, are you sure it's Sansa Stark?"

"A direwolf, Your Grace. I am sure." The Priestess nodded.

"You better be." Lyanna walked out of the room. Rhaegar was trusting this woman blindly. She had studied Jon and Sansa together. There was nothing: no spark, no attraction. They only seemed friends.

Gods help my son. And my husband.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Sansa looked around the corridor and wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, strodded to her bedroom. Her heart raced as she opened the door to her room hastily, and getting inside, breathed a loud sigh of relief.

She attempted to even her rapid breathing. A gasp left her mouth as she turned around and saw Arya sleeping on her bed. She tried to keep quiet, but her sister was already getting up. She blinked a few times before her eyes went wide, and she sat up straight.

"Sansa." Her voice was half angry, and half surprised. "May I ask where were you last night?"

Sansa stood speechless. Arya's stare was enough to convince her that her sister would certainly find out if she lied to her.

"Sansa," Arya said again, her voice softer this time. She got off the bed and walked to her, then held her hands in her own. "Please tell me you haven't laid with him."

Sansa gasped in shock again as her voice caught in her throat. Arya waited for her answer, but when none came, shook her head indignantly.

"You shouldn't have."

"Arya..." Sansa looked into her sister's eyes and her lips curved into a small smile. "I love him."

Arya didn't reply, and instead paced the room while Sansa stood still in her place. Arya knows. The words chanted in her head again and again, until fear engulfed her. How does she know? Arya wouldn't betray her and tell anyone, but she would certainly think her as selfish.

"How did you find out?"

"I saw you kissing, for Gods' sake!" Sansa's face turned red. She waited for Arya to say something else, but she didn't.

"You know I don't love Jon," she said after seconds of silence.

"But Sansa, you are going to marry him! You slept with his brother!" Arya exclaimed.

Sansa sat on the chair next to her bed, and discarded the blanket from her body. She pulled her braid lazily to her side and started undoing it.

"Aegon said he will tell Jon. But he needs time."

"Sansa." Arya kneeled down in front of her and took her face in her hands. "I am not displeased you love Aegon. But won't Jon feel betrayed by all of this? This is Aegon we're talking about. Their bond is stronger than blood. It isn't your fault you love him, nor is it his, and I understand the kiss, but Sansa, why did you lay with him?"

"Because I wanted to and he wanted to. Because for once in my life, I felt free while I was with him. No duties, no restrictions. I felt happy. I still do."

Arya shook her head.

"You have to tell Jon."

"Aegon will. Please don't tell him yourself. It'd be better if it's Aegon." Sansa stroked her sister's hair lightly. "I know you like him."

"No, I don't." Arya mouth formed a hard line, but the look in her eyes was enough to convince Sansa of the truth.

"I tried to deny as well, Arya. It's no use. We can't control everything."

Arya stood up abruptly.

"I am not you, Sansa."

She leaned down and pressed a kiss on top of Sansa's head and turned around, preparing to leave.

"I am sorry," Sansa said.

Arya smiled lightly. "It's not me you should apologize to."

Sansa heard the door slam shut and sighed. She fumbled with the braid again, her fingers untying the hair tie.

Arya is still angry. Sansa was well acquainted with her sister's tempers, and she knew it was far from over.

Sansa hadn't made a mistake. She was in love with Aegon, and he loved her too. He always made her forget everything else when she was around him, as he'd done last night as well. Her cheeks reddened again as memories of last night flashed through her mind. The way his skin felt against hers, and the way his hands caressed every part of her body.

She wasn't a maiden now, but she didn't regret it. It almost made her laugh, how falling in love had changed the calculating, careful girl into a reckless one. Her mother would admonish her for losing her maidenhead before her marriage, even if it was to the man she was supposed to marry.

Sansa didn't want to marry Jon. She remembered when she was little, she used to daydream about being Queen one day, or get married to a knight who would bring her flowers everyday and who would kiss her and sing songs for her. That dream had never truly disappeared from her mind. She had still wanted to marry a Lord and live in a castle. She wanted the singers to sing songs about their love, and spread tales about how madly Lady Sansa's husband loved her. But now, it didn't feel as much important as it had done before. She wanted love still, but now it didn't seem to matter whether it was a Lord or a Prince, or if she lived in a castle. She didn't care if no one would sing songs about her and Aegon. She loved him, and nothing seemed comparable to the feeling of his lips on hers, or his arms wrapped around her. She didn't need songs, as long as she had him.

Sansa wanted to marry Aegon more than anything, and she hoped against hope she would. But that didn't mean she coudn't want him now. She did, and she had him. There was no shame in it.

Sansa wondered what Arya would've done if she'd been in her place. Her sister had always been more reckless than her, and although Arya liked to boast about how she didn't need a husband or some man to love her, Sansa knew how wrong she was. Everyone needed love, and Arya deserved someone who would make her happy. She wasn't a romantic as herself, but Sansa had been noticing for a few days how Jon had been paying attention to Arya. If she was right, Arya wasn't oblivious to the looks and the smiles he threw her way, although she was probably trying her best not to care or notice. Arya had always made fun of the songs Sansa was so fond of. For her sister, listening to the tales of battles and jousts and warriors conquering lands was more joyous than the tales of Florian and Jonquil.

Jon seldom laughed or even smiled before Sansa, but she had been noticing him doing more of that with Arya. Maybe Arya was changing him as much as he was changing her. She had seen Arya staring at him once, like he did so many times, and the way her cheeks colored made Sansa smile. It would be hard for anyone to win Arya's heart; she was the most headstrong girl Sansa knew. But it certainly wasn't impossible. Stop this marriage, she prayed. I don't want to marry him, and he doesn't either. Not one bit.

A wave of fear rushed through her when she saw Jon walk towards her, but faded when he greeted a good morrow to her normally. Aegon hasn't told him yet.

After breakfast, the King and Lord Tyrell went to the solar. Jon Connington followed them. Sansa didn't like the man. Aegon had little love for him, and that seemed to rub off on her. Lyanna stayed behind, after nodding to Rhaegar and sending him a smile. Sansa always admired the love between her Uncle and her Aunt. The wolf maid and the silver dragon; the tales were no stranger to Sansa's ears.

Arya was sitting at a distance from them. Aegon took her side after the King left, and she threw a hard stare at him. Aegon frowned and whispered something to her, to which Arya replied in the same manner. The whispering went on, accompanied by some nudges on each side, until Sansa could see Arya's mood lighten. She reminded herself to thank Aegon for that later.

To her side, Jon was standing stiffly looking nowhere in particular, but Sansa saw him steal a few glances at the other couple. Arya looked back at him, her posture relaxing as she waved her hand their way. Sansa waved back. Jon didn't, and Arya noticed, averting her eyes away to continue her conversation with Aegon.

"Arya," her aunt called. Arya turned to her and nodded. She spoke briefly to Aegon, then made her way to where the Queen was sitting. Sansa could sense Jon sit beside her, his attention directed at his mother and Arya.

Lyanna patted the space beside her and Arya sat down.

"I ordered some dresses to be made for you to wear in the feast. I already gave your sister hers," she paused and threw a quick smile at Sansa. "I hope you like them."

"But why? My old dresses seem nice enough."

"We would want you to look special, won't we?" She softly stroked Arya's hair. "Maybe you will catch some handsome Lord's eye."

Arya rolled her eyes and Lyanna laughed.

"Gods show mercy to that eye!" Aegon exclaimed. Sansa joined his and Lyanna's laughter, while Arya glared at Aegon; there was a grin hidden behind it.

When the laughter subdued, Sansa noticed Jon had been silent the entire time. His eyes were cold and hard, staring straight at Arya.

"It would be wonderful, wouldn't it, if Arya found herself a husband at the feast?" Sansa asked, curious as to what his answer would be.

"I don't think your sister wants to marry anyone," he replied. The jealousy in his voice was so evident Sansa wondered whether he tired to hide it or not.

"Arya doesn't know what she wants. It takes a while for her to realise the obvious." Sansa tried to hide her amused smile. "But she will, eventually."

"It's so hard to make out what she is thinking," he mused.

"Arya has always been selective about showing emotions. Not everyone earns the right to know her inside out."

"My brother seems to have accomplished the task."

Sansa choked on her voice. Seven hells! He thinks Arya and Aegon...

She laughed out loud. Jon looked at her strangely. "There is nothing going on between my sister and your brother," she said.

"How can you be so sure?" He asked. His voice was laced with hope. Sansa gently put her hand on his shoulder.

"I assure you, Jon. They don't like each other that way." She turned and realised the other three people had left the room.

They were silent for some time before Sansa spoke again,

"Do you really want to marry me, Jon?"

Jon frowned at her and sighed. "I don't know what I want. But I don't think you want to marry me, do you Sansa?"

"I...," she hesitated. "I feel we do not... fit."

"Do you want to..."

"Call off our betrothal? Can we?" Sansa's heart beat faster and faster. She was taking such a big chance, and it was a blessing Jon wanted to break the betrothal too, but maybe they were taking a leap too big.

"Sansa, our families won't like that," Jon stated. "And I am a Prince. It will not be looked upon as a wise decision by most. Things could turn bad."

"You can marry someone else. Someone you want, someone you love." She gripped his arm lightly. "I know who you want."

Jon's face turned somber. "She doesn't want the same."

"Don't be sure of that."

"It is harder than you think, Sansa." He stood up. "Calling off a betrothal is not easy. Especially since I am the Prince of Westeros and you are the daughter of the Warden of the North."

"But we'll never be happy with this union. You know that."

Jon seemed nervous, but Sansa couldn't make out why. "I need time to think," he said.

"Of course." You two are the same.

"There is danger in this. We don't know the consequences," he warned.

Sansa didn't care. To be able to be with Aegon was enough to help her withstand whatever dangers lay ahead. "If we succeed though, you can go down the path you really want to go."

"Is this just about me wanting Arya?"

"No, it's about me too. I don't want this match as much as you. Maybe if we tell them we both don't want this, they'll understand."

"You are too optimistic." He smiled.

"And you should be too," Sansa said. "You love her, don't you?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Whatever it is I feel for her, it's stronger than anything I've ever felt before. I don't think your sister feels the same way, though."

"Arya is stubborn. She takes pride in being a girl who doesn't care about love and romance and other things girls swoon over. She likes you more than she thinks, I can tell."

Jon seemed to ponder over her words before he asked her,

"She seemed upset yesterday. Was something wrong?"

"I don't know." Was it because of me and Aegon?

"Arya is hard to understand," he said again.

"But that is why she is special," Sansa said. "She is fifteen, after all," she added.

"Is that a warning I hear?" Jon arched a brow.

"Probably."

Sansa sneaked off to the north wing of the castle later that evening, and found Aegon already waiting for her. He turned and smiled at her, and Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Love," he murmured in her ear, before dropping kisses down her throat, and finally kissing her lips.

"We should be more discreet, you know," she said, laughing lightly. "I hope Arya hasn't threatened to kill you."

Aegon leaned away and grinned at her, his hands wrapped around her waist. "Your sister can be scary at times. I think she felt bad we didn't tell her earlier."

Sansa nodded and Aegon leaned in to kiss her again. She shivered and held on to him tighter as his tongue traced her lower lip slowly. Aegon pulled her towards his body sharply, making her gasp.

"Thank you for lightening her mood," she whispered. "Jon and I decided something."

Aegon looked at her curiously and ran his knuckles over her cheek. "What?"

"We are calling off the betrothal."

Aegon's eyes widened in shock.

"Have you told him about us?"

"No, love. We did talk about other things, and we've both realised our union won't be fruitful." Sansa pecked him on his cheek. "It'll be easier this way. Now that we've established he isn't interested in me like that, maybe it'll be easier for you to tell him about us, and for him to listen."

"Will he talk to Father?" Aegon asked.

"He said he needs time. You both are same." She smiled at him and added, "He thinks it'll be a hard task."

"So do I," Aegon replied. "It is not everyday marriage alliances are called off between two big Houses. It will take a lot of convincing on Jon's part. And my Father's head is full of that pro-" Aegon stopped.

"Full of what?"

Aegon sighed. "He just wants Jon to marry and secure the family line. We can't blame him for that."

"It's not like Jon won't marry. He just won't be marrying me."

"Yes," Aegon smirked. "You are all for me. Maybe there's someone else out there for Jon. You know, someone with dark hair and grey eyes." He winked.

"That would be fantastic, won't it?"

"Perfectly so. Now my love, give me permission to silence that sweet mouth of yours."

She hummed and their mouths met again. Sansa felt relieved. The road was hard to step on, but she had Aegon to accompany her. Things may take a turn for the worse in the future, but for now things are perfect.

She let out a giggle as Aegon lifted her off the ground and pressed her against the wall. All thoughts left her mind as his hand found its way under her dress. Nothing can make me happier.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The cupbearer poured the wine and Rhaegar waved him away. He silently went and stood at the corner of the room, hidden by the shadows.

"So what is this important news Lord Tyrell?" Rhaegar asked.

Mace Tyrell emptied the cup in two sips, and put it on the table. "Important news indeed, Your Grace. You do remember Robert Baratheon?"

Rhaegar threw a hard stare at the fat Lord. He straightened in his seat.

"I remember him very well, Lord Tyrell. Who can forget the man who rebelled against the Throne?"

"His brother holds the seat of Storm's End."

"I gave him the seat myself," Rhaegar said impatiently. What is this man playing at?

"I think you made a mistake Your Grace. Stannis Baratheon is rumoured to be giving shelter to his exiled brother Robert."

"He wouldn't dare," Rhaegar roared.

"There is danger of another rebellion, Your Grace," Mace informed calmly. He called the cupbearer to pour him more wine.

"Where have you heard of this?" Rhaegar demanded, his voice stern.

"There are a good number of Highgarden spies in Storm's End, Your Grace."

"Varys would've informed me of this," Rhaegar retorted.

"Mayhaps he hasn't been paying attention."

"You underestimate Varys. He pays more attention than you think. If they are preparing to rebel, don't you think they'd be careful enough not to let spies hear of their plans?"

"Oh, Your Grace. My spies only informed me about Lord Stannis sheltering Robert. The bit about the rebellion I learnt from Robert himself."

Rhaegar took his seat, intrigued.

Mace Tyrell went on,

"Robert asked me to join him in battle against the Throne, Your Grace. I received the raven two days before I left for King's Landing."

"He would dare make such a proposal knowing you have sworn fealty to me?" Rhaegar asked suspiciously. Something is not right.

"I haven't spoke of this to anyone, Your Grace. We wouldn't want everyone to know about Robert gathering an army. It would cause tensions everywhere."

"It's wise of you."

"What will you do about this?" Mace asked.

"I will need you to keep quiet about this for the time being. Until there is proof, we cannot assume the worst. Stannis has answers to give." He got ready to leave. "I hope you will cooperate with me, Lord Tyrell." It was a warning.

"Of course, Your Grace. I live to serve the Crown." He bowed and Rhaegar nodded. The guard opened the door and he walked out.

The Tyrells were deceptive. He knew they wouldn't hesitate to change sides based on their own profit. Rhaegar clenched his fist. If this information was true, and Robert had in fact decided again to rebel against the Targaryens, he would've to supress it as soon as possible. Lyanna. She could be in danger, so would his children. He mustn't let it come to a war. Westeros was peaceful, and there was no need for spilling blood over old grudges.

He suspected the Tyrells. If Robert wants to rebel, he would've been discreet about it. And if he hadn't, news should've reached Rhaegar sooner. Where is Varys? It was unusual for someone like Mace Tyrell to know about such things before the spider did. Varys had links all over Westeros, and a matter of this kind couldn't escape his ears easily. Maybe Mace Tyrell was just trying to rouse Rhaegar's anger, probably to remove Stannis Baratheon from the seat of Storm's End.

Jon Connington had waited outside the solar. Now he walked beside Rhaegar, both of them appoaching the Throne room.

"Connington?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"Where is Varys? I need to see him."

Connington sent one of the guard to summon the eunuch. The King and the Hand made their way to the Throne and Rhaegar sat down on the Iron Throne.

"Is something troubling you, Your Grace?" Connington asked.

"I will speak when I see Varys," Rhaegar said.

The doors opened after a while and Varys strodded in. Rhaegar quickly dismissed all of the guards and the Kingsguard from the room, leaving only him, Connington and the Master of Whispers.

Varys bowed. "Your Grace."

"Do you remember what your position in this court is, Lord Varys?" Rhaegar asked calmly.

Varys looked surprised. "Of course, Your Grace."

"You are the Master of Whispers, are you not?" Rhaegar asked again.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Then why," Rhaegar roared, "does Mace Tyrell know someone is going to rebel against the Crown before you do?"

Varys remained still. "I presume you're speaking about Robert Baratheon, Your Grace?"

Rhaegar's anger flared. "You knew about this? Still you didn't inform me?"

"Apologies, Your Grace. There have been no reports of any House joining the rebellion except Robert's brother Stannis. The Houses are all loyal to you. The rebellion is a lost cause. Robert will learn that himself in a few months. Even the ravens have stopped leaving Storm's End."

"But Stannis Baratheon has commited treason giving shelter to his exiled brother. He should know better."

"He is the last living Lord of House Baratheon, Your Grace. If you accuse him, some vassal houses may rebel. His wife, Lady Selyse is rumoured to be carrying a child. The child will be born in a few moons' time. After that, bringing Stannis here and throwing him in the black cells won't result in much defiance because they will have his heir. The vassal kingdoms do not love Stannis, but they have been sworn to House Baratheon since decades. Let them have their heir, they wouldn't blink an eye in giving up Stannis."

Rhaegar considered that.

"How does Mace Tyrell know of this?" He asked.

"Lord Tyrell," Varys explained, "seems to be hiding more than he takes credit for. There are rumours he will side with Robert if the rebellion comes into fruition. But there won't be one. Only Highgarden and Storm's End alone can't march against the combined forces of King's Landing, Casterly Rock, Dorne and the entire North."

"If you agree, Your Grace, I will give orders to bring Robert here," Connington proposed.

"There's no need for that. I spared his life once. I am not turning back on my words now. Let him live, but if he tries one more time to turn the Houses against me, he will die. Varys, keep an eye on his actions, and do not," his voice became sterner, "keep things from me in the future. It won't be pleasant for you if you do."

"Yes, Your Grace. And if I may, could you convince the Tyrells to stay here for some more time? I would want to find out what Mace Tyrell is actually planning to do, and it would be advantageous to us if he is within Your Grace's eye."

Rhaegar nodded. "There must be some reason for them to stay."

"What about the wedding, Your Grace?" Connington asked.

"The wedding would be a perfect occassion, Your Grace," Varys agreed.

"I will talk to my family," Rhaegar nodded.

The windows were closed and the candles extinguished, except the one the table beside the bed. Rhaegar stroked his wife's back as she rested her head against his chest. The sheets were tangled over their legs, with nothing to cover their upper bodies. The light illuminated her figure, her pale skin looked darker.

"What troubles you?" She asked softly. Rhaegar leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"I want to keep you safe. You, Aegon, Jon, my people. Sometimes, I wonder if I've done enough."

Lyanna pushed herself up on one elbow and palmed his cheek. "You are a great King. The people love you. Your family loves you. Westeros is at peace. You've done more than enough."

Rhaegar didn't want to worry her, but he was incapable of hiding anything from her.

"The Priestess was right," he said. "Robert is gathering an army, or at least is trying to."

The moment Robert's name fell from his lips, the peaceful expression of hers vanished. Instead her brows furrowed and her eyes turned cold. "That man will never understand. Why does he want a war? All the bloodshed and death."

"I stole you from him," Rhaegar said.

"No, you didn't! I was never his! I would've run away alone if I hadn't fallen in love with you. The betrothal was never my choice. I wouldn't have went on with it anyway."

"My wolf," Rhaegar smiled, lifting her chin up.

"Why does he want to dig old graves? I am Queen now. There is no way he can have me."

"I think this time it's not about love. It's about revenge."

"You gave him what he deserved. He shouldn't have rebelled. He knew I loved you," she replied. "And you spared his life, after all that he'd done."

Rhaegar explained to her how it would all probably be for nothing, and Robert may not rebel after all. He told her everything Varys had said in the Throne room. He felt his chest lighten as he did so.

"The wedding is going to take place earlier than we'd planned."

"Why?" She asked surprised.

"We need to keep the Tyrells in King's landing for some time. They can't refuse if we ask them to stay until the wedding."

"But you're only thinking about this politically. What of the husband and the wife. Have you asked Jon about this?"

"No. I will, tomorrow."

"Is it necessary? Such things musn't be rushed," Lyanna pleaded.

"Men marry women they haven't seen before. It's been more than a month. Jon and Sansa knew this would happen eventually."

Lyanna sighed. "Talk to Jon," she said. She held on to him and closed her eyes. "I want our son to be happy."

"He will be," Rhaegar said. "Sansa will make a good Queen. I will write to Eddard Stark as soon as I've talked to Jon."

"Ned will be surprised," Lyanna stated softly.

"Goodnight, love."

"Goodnight, Rhaegar."

He didn't fall asleep instantly. His mind went over the day's events again. Varys has to be quick. If there wll be another rebellion, he will be ready for it. He clutched the sleeping form of Lyanna closer. I will let no one hurt her.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Arya went to the training ground hesitating. Jon probably won't be there, since he hadn't talked to her the day before. He had even refused to wave at her. Arya shouldn't feel bad, after all it was what she wanted. She wanted to distance him from herself, and it was working. But she felt bad still, in spite of herself.

Her guess was proved right. Jon wasn't there. Arya realised after a while her head wasn't exactly concentrating on practising. She was thinking about something else. Every moment that passed, the regret clutched her heart tighter. They had only practised for two days, she couldn't possibly miss Jon.

But she did. And it showed in the way her eyes glanced at the direction of the castle almost every five minutes. But he wasn't coming. Arya picked up her sword one final time in frustration, and made her way back, irritated. Why is he getting inside my head?

But before entering, she heard the sound of footsteps. She turned to right and saw a flickering light in the distance. It was still not dawn, and no one was supposed to be here.

She strode towards the light, which she saw was coming from a candle. A woman was holding it in her hand. Arya stepped closer, but the woman didn't see her. Arya got close enough to make out her face. She looked like she was of the same age as her aunt. Her hair was red, the color of blood. Arya's eyes went to the ruby around her neck which shone brightly for a few seconds, then dimmed, but only slightly.

"You can step closer, child. I won't hurt you."

Arya was surprised she had seen her, and straightened herself. She had never seen this woman before in or near the castle. And there was something strange about her. Strange and different than other people.

Arya took a step forward and asked with all the seriousness she could muster,

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled and Arya saw the ruby at her neck glow. Arya's hand went to the dagger on her hip as the woman turned to her.

"You are the younger girl, aren't you? Lady Arya Stark."

"I am not a Lady," Arya huffed. "You didn't answer my question."

"I am called Melisandre, My Lady."

Something about her voice told Arya she wasn't going to stop calling her that. So she didn't press. Arya's hand left the dagger. She took a step closer.

"I haven't seen you before." The sky was changing color to a bright orange. The ruby glowed again, and Arya looked at the candle in her hand. Why does she need a candle when there is enough light?

"Neither have I seen you. Not in person, anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" She frowned.

Melisandre didn't answer, but instead looked up into the sky. Arya followed her line of sight and saw that the sun was rising. The woman closed her eyes and muttered something. Arya stood there motionless. Something about her intrigued her, though she didn't know what. The woman blowed out the candle in her hand. She turned to Arya with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You are a strong girl, Arya Stark. I see the fire in you. It is but a flicker, but it is there. A fire that will burn cities to the ground, and bring people to their knees. There will be fire and blood, and death and ice. You need to decide before it's too late, Your Gr-"

Melisandre stopped midway. She blinked as if she had just woken up from a dream. Arya was standing frowning at what she'd said. What in the seven hells was that?

"What did I say?" She asked shocked.

"You are mad," Arya said, half laughing.

"No, I'm not. What did I say?"

"Something about fire and death," Arya said. "Who are you really?"

The woman's face had turned to one of fear.

"I shouldn't have. The King won't like this." She turned back towards the castle and started walking back to it.

Arya stood still where she was. The woman hurried inside the castle. Arya tried to understand what had just happened. What was the woman babbling about? She remembered some of the words, though everything had sounded ridiculous to her.

She found Aegon sitting in the chair of his room, napping. Arya rolled her eyes and taking a book from the nearby table, threw it at him. It hit Aegon on the chest and he woke up abruptly. He blinked at Arya for a few times before throwing the book back at her. Arya caught it with her hands and laughing, put it back in it's original place.

"What is wrong with you? Can't I sleep in peace?" Aegon groaned.

"It's almost afternoon, Aegon. Really, nobody sleeps this late." She looked at his bed. "And normal people sleep in beds."

"I feel asleep while sitting."

Arya clapped her hands. "Very active, aren't you?" She asked mockingly.

"Shut up," he stood up straight and stretched his arms. "Why are you here again?"

"I need to know about something." Arya sat down on the bed, sitting cross legged. "Or rather someone."

"What?" Aegon asked.

"I saw a woman today. She was in the training grounds. She had red hair and she wore a ruby at her neck. She told me her name was Melisandre."

It seemed to caught Aegon's attention. He sat down beside her and shook his head. "She was in the grounds, really?"

"Yeah. She mumbled something into the air."

"That lunatic," Aegon groaned. "I don't know why Father lets her stay here."

"What is it?" Arya asked, curiousity eating at her.

"She is a Priestess. She preaches the God of Light. She was probably praying or something."

"Don't the Targaryens follow the Seven?"

"We do." Aegon nodded. "But this prophecy shit..."

"What prophecy?"

Aegon looked at her, and she saw a hint of sadness in his face. "Nothing, really. Nothing important."

"Aegon. Tell me," Arya commanded.

"It's stupid, Arya. Honestly, it's nothing but these people trying to make you follow their God."

"Well, I am not stupid, am I?" She said. "If it isn't important, why won't you tell?"

"Because it's not my place to!"

"Aegon." She looked at him with a piercing gaze. "Tell. Me. Or I swear to the Old Gods, I'll-"

"Alright, alright! But you must not tell anyone else. Promise me."

Arya took his hand. "I promise."

Aegon started pacing the room. "It's about this prophecy the Priestess told our Father about. She said that there was a war coming and that Jon's life was in danger. To keep him safe, our Father needed to..." He paused.

"What?" Arya asked.

Aegon ran his hands through his hair, messing up the silvery mane. "He needed to betroth Sansa to Jon."

"What?" Arya exclaimed in shock. There was silence for sometime before she spoke again. "You mean Jon is to marry Sansa because there is supposed to be a war and Jon's life is supposed to be in danger and Sansa is supposed to... what exactly?"

"Save him, I guess. Be his shield, she said. It's not just about Jon actually. She said that all the Targaryens were-"

"Wait." Arya laughed. "Uncle Rhaegar believes this mad woman?"

"Yes," Aegon said. "So does your Father."

"Why?"

"She told Father something. I don't know what, but Father said it was what he had told Queen Lyanna when Jon was born. She wasn't supposed to know it, because she wasn't there."

"It can be a lucky guess!"

"Believe me, Arya, I have tried to make Father see the lunacy of it all, but he simply refuses to. He thinks this marriage will save Jon and all of us."

Arya saw the sadness in Aegon's eyes. Of course, if their Father thought this marriage was for the greater good, he would probably not listen if they don't want to marry each other. In spite of herself, her own body shook at the thought.

"You can't tell Sansa," Aegon said.

"I promised I won't tell anyone. But this is ridiculous, really. Do you think your Father will agree if..."

"We can't assume the worst yet. He just might."

"Have you told Jon?" She asked.

Aegon shook his head.

Arya stood and stepped closer to Aegon. She sighed and took her face in her hands.

"The more you delay, the more he'll be hurt."

"I don't know how to tell him."

"Don't you ever tell him your other secrets?"

"Arya. There isn't anything about me he doesn't know. There never has been secrets. This would be the first one."

Arya felt bad for him and hugged him. Aegon returned the embrace.

"He'll understand." Aegon hummed, and she slightly tightened her arms around him. She missed Robb all of a sudden. He used to hug her and twirl her around until she'd be exhausted, either from spinning or from laughing. He used held her when she cried, and let her stay in his arms for as long as she wanted to.

She hid her face in Aegon's chest.

"What is it?" He asked pulling away and looking at her worriedly.

"I miss my brother."

Aegon smiled. "Never thought I'd live to see the day Arya Stark turned emotional."

"Stop it." She hit him lightly on the chest. She left the room throwing a last smile at him.

"Thanks for telling me everything."

"Thanks for not crying infront of me," he teased. "I would have died from shock."

Arya made a face at him and closed the door behind her.

She saw Jon's room. The door was opened. Arya remembered she still hadn't apologized to him about that night. She had acted too harshly. He was just trying to talk to her. She almost decided to go talk to him when she passed his door, but at the last moment felt so nervous, she decided to skip it.

"Arya," his voice called from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder. He was standing at the door, smiling at her.

"Hello, Jon," she said.

"Hey." He asked, "Where were you going?"

"Back to my room. I went to see Aegon."

A frown marred his face, and he straightened himself.

"I need to speak to you," Arya finally said before turning around towards him, gathering her courage.

"Come inside," he said. Arya hesitated but complied. Jon closed the door behind him.

"I am sorry," Arya whispered.

"For what?" Jon seemed genuinly surprised.

"That night. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I'm so, so sorry."

Jon stepped closer towards her. He stopped right infront of her and took her hands in his, and looked at them.

"Why did you go to see Aegon?" He asked.

Arya blinked. "There was something I needed to talk to him about."

Jon nodded. His eyes still didn't leave her hands. Arya felt him squeeze them.

She realised the whole room had somehow grown warmer. Jon took another step closer. Arya was surprised he could because he was already standing so, so close to her.

He finally looked into her eyes. Arya noticed the stubble in his face, and wanted to feel it graze her fingers. She pulled her hands from his gently, and dropped her eyes to the ground.

"Are you still angry at me?" Jon asked sadly.

Arya smiled. Her hand shook as she placed it on his cheek. "I was never angry at you, stupid."

Her eyes widened as Jon pressed his lips to hers. She tried to push him away but he held her waist. His lips felt warm and a bit rough, but they felt good. Before she knew, she returned the kiss and was stroking his hair while doing so. She had never felt anything like this. He kissed her with tenderness, and her pulse quickened. Arya pulled away finally, after the need for air became too much to ignore. Jon touched his forehead to hers and gave her a smile. He put his hands on both sides of her neck and leaned down to press a chaste kiss on her lips.

"I have been wanting to do that for so long," he whispered.

Arya's hand was still on his cheek. She stroked it lightly before withdrawing it and using both of her hands to push him away. Jon looked surprised.

"You didn't like it?" He asked.

Arya had left his arms, but turned again and pressed her lips to his again, holding his face in her hands. The kiss was harder this time. She leaned away and looked at his eyes, which had turned darker than usual.

"Nothing ever felt better," she whispered. "But I need to be sure of something first."

She left his room before he could stop her. Her heart raced as she hurried back to Aegon's room. She didn't have to go all the way though; he met her halfway.

Aegon shook his head at her.

"Wha-"

"I need to see the Priestess. Melisandre."

Aegon laughed. "Didn't you say you weren't stupid? No, you're not seeing her. She is mad."

"I have already seen her, Egg. She won't hurt me,"

"But, Ary-"

"Please, Aegon!" She pleaded. "I really need to see her."

"Why do I end up agreeing every time?" He groaned.

"Because you know I'll stab you if you don't." She didn't sound teasing. She sounded nervous.

Arya followed Aegon. Her mind was occupied elsewhere though. Jon. The way his lips pressed against hers. Every good feeling she jad ever known rushed through her all at once, along with the heat coming from him. Arya didn't want to leave his lips, but she needed to go see the Priestess before stepping further. If she was in Jon's arms again, she would lose control. But before she kissed him again, she needed to be sure of some things.

They entered a vacant corridor. Arya heard a voice from behind. They both turned.

"Prince Aegon." It was a guard. "The Queen wishes to see you."

Aegon glanced between him and Arya, finally stopping his gaze on her. "Maybe some other day," he suggested.

"No," Arya said. "You just tell me where to go. I'll go myself."

Aegon shook his head. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Arya replied stubbornly. "Just tell me where the room is."

Aegon cursed. He turned to the guard.

"Lead her to the Priestess' chambers. Let her go alone inside, but stay close to the door. Anything suspicious, you go inside."

"Yes, Prince Aegon." The guard bowed.

Aegon turned to Arya again. "You don't believe her, right?"

"No," Arya replied.

"Good." He patted her on the shoulder and went away. The guard bowed to Arya and she followed him.

When they reached the door, there was another guard outside it. The one with Arya told him to let her in, and he nodded, stepping aside.

"My Lady," the guard said. "I'll be right outside."

Arya nodded. I have a dagger. I don't need you. She opened the door and went inside. The Priestess was sitting in a chair, touching the ruby at her neck with her fingers. As soon as she saw Arya, she stood up and bowed.

"My Lady."

Arya nodded. She didn't have time to waste, so she asked directly.

"You lied about the prophecy, didn't you?"

The woman's face darkened. "I did not lie, child. And you shouldn't know this. The King said-"

"It's not your problem who told me this. But I need to know if it's a lie. After all, it's about my sister."

"Just your sister?" The woman asked, arching her brow.

"Can you answer for once what you're asked?" Arya asked frustatingly. "What proof do you have?"

"Come here." The woman held out her hand.

Arya wouldn't hold her hand, but she stepped closer to her anyway. Melisandre murmured something and the fire that was burning in the hearth turned wild, the flames leaping high into the air. There was something about the ruby, Arya decided. This woman is a sorceress.

She turned to Arya and took both of her hands, closed her eyes and started chanting. The guard is outside. The woman kept mumbling for some time before she opened her eyes. Arya could swear they were red, but then she blinked and it was gone.

"Your heart is beating faster. But you're not scared about this, are you?" She mumbled again. "You have two brothers back at your home. And one is in another place."

Arya scoffed. "The number of Stark children is not exactly secret information."

"What about the first child? The one that wasn't born. Does everyone know that too?"

Arya gasped in shock and pulled her hands away, and instantly unsheathed her dagger.

"How do you know this?" She asked, pointing it at her. The woman only smiled.

"I told you I don't lie, Arya Stark. Whatever I say is the truth."

Arya wasn't willing to believe her. It will mean the prophecy is true, and if it is...

"Why is Jon in danger?"

"I cannot know that. But he is. And not just him, it's every Targaryen. Including your Aunt."

An overwhelming fear rushed through Arya. Why did I come here?

"Jon has to marry Sansa?"

"So I said," the woman replied and studied her face. "You are not happy about that."

Arya choked. Not because of Melisandre's words, but because of the thousand emotions surging through her. Suddenly everything seemed so final. The marriage had to be. Sansa would marry Jon. The Priestess must have convinced the King of her words the same way. She told him something that was secret. Arya would've repeated her earlier words and say it was all a lucky guess or she had somehow known about it. But really, no one did. The dead child. No one knew except her Mother and Father, and Robb and her. Her parents would never speak to anyone, nor would Robb. And she hadn't uttered a word about it.

"I don't want to believe you," Arya said. She felt weaker by the minute. Why did I kiss him? It only makes this worse.

"But you do."

She rushed out of the room without saying anything. She ran past the guards who called her name behind her. Why did I kiss him? She was almost in her room when she bumped into someone. Loras Tyrell.

"Lady Arya," he seemed surprised by her state. "Are you alright?"

Arya took a deep breath and tried her best to smile. "Ser Loras. I'm alright, a bit flustered from the heat, is all."

"Well." He didn't look convinced. "The Princes and I planned to go riding. Would you like to accompany us? Prince Aegon told me you enjoy it."

"Yes, but today I must refuse. My head aches. I want to rest."

"Should I send for the Maester?" Loras asked worriedly.

"No, no," Arya said. "It's alright. I need to rest."

"Yes, of course. We will postpone the plans till tomorrow."

"There's really no need. You can go without me," Arya said.

"We will go tomorrow." Loras smiled. "Take rest, My Lady. I will see you."

Arya nodded.

She laid on her bed. Why did I kiss him? She had known from the start that Sansa and Jon were going to be married. It was why she came. It was why she and Jon met. But what about Sansa and Egg? They love each other, but is their love more important than the lives of Aegon's family? But Sansa does not want to marry Jon, that much was sure from her words. But if she doesn't and if anything happens to him...

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Jon must marry Sansa, if that's what it takes to keep him safe. She won't kiss Jon again. It will only make her want more.

Have I really fallen in love with him?

Her head felt heavy. She closed her eyes and for the first time in years, cried herself to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Arya woke with a intolerable headache. Her head was throbbing and she groaned in frustation and pain, rather loudly. She looked out of her window. It was almost dark. She had slept the entire day. Fuck.

All of a sudden, everything came back to her mind. The woman, Jon, the kiss, the prophecy... She threw her head back. She wanted to sleep again. Sleeping was better than staying awake, even if it meant waking up as if someone has danced over your head.

But her stomach resisted. It growled and Arya realised she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She got up from the bed and opened the door. She looked around but there was no one. She decided to find Sansa. But when she opened the door, her sister wasn't there. Instead, there was a girl of about thirteen, dusting the room. She saw Arya and frantically straightened her dress.

"My Lady." She bowed.

"Arya," she corrected. "Where is my sister?"

"Lady Sansa is with the Queen, I think. My Lady, Prince Aegon came to see you, a little while ago. He told me to tell you. Are you well, My Lady?"

"My name is Arya. Not Lady. Yes, I am fine." She looked around the room. "Are you finished doing that?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Arya sighed. "Well, can you fetch me some food please, then? And if anyone asks, tell them I'm still asleep."

"Of course, My Lady." The girl bowed and hurried past her.

Arya went to her room and waited for the food. A few minutes later the girl arrived, bringing a big plate of food. She put it on the table but Arya told her to bring it to the bed instead. The girl obeyed and bowing, meant to leave when Arya called her again.

"What's your name?" She asked, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

"Irina, My Lady."

"Do you work in the kitchens?"

"No, My Lady. I clean the chambers."

"I know you will keep calling me that, but you don't have to do it in every sentence," Arya teased.

The girl also smiled slightly.

There was a knock on the door, and she opened it. Arya's heart skipped. Jon came inside the room. He bid the girl to go.

"Stay outside," Arya said. "I might need you."

The girl bowed and went outside and Jon closed the door behind him.

"I heard you were unwell," he said.

"Who told you that? I'm alright." Please go.

"Loras. And Egg came to see you. You were asleep."

Arya nodded and filled her mouth with food.

"Why are you like this?" He exclaimed in frustration after moments of silence.

"Like what?"

"Arya, look at me!" He shouted.

"Don't shout!" Just go.

Arya was already standing up. Jon stood quite far but his eyes were piercing through her. Again.

"Why did you leave me this morning?"

"The kiss was a mistake." It hurt more than she thought it would. She wanted to hit something, so hard.

Silence followed, then Jon stepped closer. "You don't mean that," he said.

"I do. I got carried away. I shouldn't have kissed you knowing my sister-"

Jon pushed her back against a wall.

"You are lying," he said, leaning closer. Arya breathed rapidly. She felt the tears hit at the back of her eyes. I am doing this for you.

"You are going to marry my sister," she said. "This is not proper."

Jon laughed and Arya tensed. "You care about proper?"

"Maybe I do, Jon. You don't really know me that well, do you?"

Jon groaned again in anger. "I don't know you? Of course I fucking don't know you! Because every time I try to come close to you, you run away. Do you think this is easy for me? Wanting another woman, someone else than my bethrothed. But I thought you were the one person in the world who wouldn't care about proper." He leaned away. "I guess I was wrong."

The tears fell.

"Why are you-" Jon gasped in shock, then his eyes suddenly softened and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know something is wrong. You just have to tell me. I swear to the Gods I'll make everything right. Tell me, Arya."

Arya tried to steady herself. She can't do this. She was not supposed to cry infront of him. Crying made you weak. He must think I'm strong. He must think I'm not lying.

"It was a mistake Jon." The coldness in her voice surprised even Arya herself. "I don't love you. We were standing too close and it was you who kissed me first, right? And I got carried away later. I don't want you, Jon. Please don't presume I do. We are friends, but not more than that. I will forget about this, and so will you."

Jon stilled and Arya took it as a chance to get away from him. She wanted to hit herself. He didn't deserve this, but there is nothing she could do.

"I don't regret kissing you, Arya Stark. Nor will I ever. I don't know what that head of yours is thinking, but I know you liked it, as much as I did. You can lie to me but you can't lie to yourself."

He left and closed the door loudly behind him. Arya dismissed the girl.

She didn't know what to do. She could cry, she could shout, but she did none of them. She laid down in her bed staring at the windows as the evening turned to night. Finally her eyes closed, and she mumbled before going to sleep,

"I love you, Jon."

Chapter Text

King's Landing

"My sister will accompany us," Loras said, taking a last sip of his wine and getting up. Jon glanced at Aegon, who sighed and propped up his elbow on the table.

"This was your ridiculous idea, wasn't it brother?" Jon asked in a frustrating tone.

"Oh, don't blame this on me. You were the one being sickeningly civil. If I didn't offer this, they'd be convinced I was deliberately avoiding them."

"Weren't you?"

"That is another matter, really."

They made their way upstairs.

"So," Aegon said. "You're asking Arya or I am?"

"You go," Jon replied stiffly.

"Will you at least tell me what happened?"

When Jon didn't reply, Aegon stopped and turned to him. "You can tell me tonight. There is... something I have to tell you as well."

Jon shrugged. He stopped before Sansa's door and knocked on it, while Aegon went ahead to call on Arya. Sansa opened the door after the second knock, and was surprised to see him.

"Sansa." Jon smiled. "We were going riding. I was wondering if you'd like to come as well. Lady Margaery is coming too."

Sansa looked surprised. She gave him a slight smile. "I am sorry, Jon. I don't really like riding. But I do hope you enjoy."

Jon nodded. "Thank you. I'll see you later, then."

Sansa nodded and with a smile, closed the door. Jon looked to where Aegon was talking to Arya. She was in her breeches. Her eyes found Jon's, and she turned away quickly. Jon fisted his hands to his sides. He was still furious with her. Why is she acting like this? The kiss she gave him had almost convinced him of her affections, but then she had proved him wrong. Seems like I don't know her at all.

Arya closed her door, and Aegon walked back to Jon.

"Two minutes, she said." He leaned against the wall and sent a skeptical look Jon's way.

"What?"

"You want her, don't you?" Jon didn't answer and Aegon rolled his eyes. "Honestly, you know you're like an open book, right?"

"Stop making assumptions," Jon answered. "You are growing irritating."

"Says the boring brother," Aegon mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." He shrugged. "I'm merely enjoying my time with you, dear brother. I'm likely to get murdered tonight."

"What? You're speaking like an idiot."

Aegon shook his head. Jon turned to look at Arya's door, which opened and she walked out, a smirk on her face. She was in her breeches and a tunic, her hair braided to her side. Her smile subdued slightly when she saw Jon, and she averted her eyes to Aegon.

"Who else is coming?" She asked, excitement evident in her voice.

"Loras and Margaery," Aegon replied, making a face at the last name.

The three walked down to the stables; Arya and Aegon made small talk consisting of a few punches and curses. Jon remained silent, but in spite of himself, turned to Arya a few times he had no choice but to join in on the conversation. One time, Arya smiled at him, but he didn't return it, ignoring her and speaking to Aegon instead.

The stableboy had already saddled Jon's and Aegon's horses. Arya went inside the stables to pick a horse for herself. Jon watched her immediately turn to a grey mare.

"This one," she said as she stroked her mane. The horse jerked back, but Arya caught her reins and went forward to touch her again. This time the response was less violent.

"She's young, Milady, but fast that one. A bit rough to ride, though."

"It's alright. I like her," she said. The animal had stopped to protest and had leaned against her hand. She even nipped her hand, at which Arya let out a laugh. Jon felt a tug at his heart. Why can't you be this happy when you're with me?

"Are we ready then?" Margaery's chirpy voice came from the outside. Jon turned to his side and saw Margaery and Loras standing, holding the reins of their own horses.

Margaery looked around. "Is Lady Sansa not coming?"

"No," Jon said. "Sansa does not enjoy riding."

"Oh." Margaery looked surprised, but then her face changed into a sly smile. "That leaves us five then. But it's always good to have other women around. I am sure Lady Arya will keep me company."

Arya blinked at her, like she wasn't expecting to be included in the conversation. Margaery ws looking at her smugly. She knew how Arya hated to be called that, and that she found absolutely no joy in Margaery's company. Arya frowned, and smiled cruelly.

"Well, if you can keep up, I'm sure I will," she said, and turned back to the chore at hand.

Aegon choked on his laugh, and Margaery glared at Arya, who was busy with the horse. Jon almost smiled himself, but it would have been too rude to the Tyrell woman.

He watched Loras walk to Arya's side. She tilted her head up and threw him a small smile.

"I'n glad you'll be accompanying us." Jon hated the way he grinned at her. Arya nodded.

"Will you ride by my side, Prince Jon?" Margaery called out. Jon's eyes were focused on the couple beside him, when he turned to her. Why miss a chance?

"Of course, My Lady. It would be my pleasure. I would appreciate your company very much."

Aegon gaped at him like he'd grown two heads.

"Thank you, My Prince. You are so kind," Margaery replied, surprised herself. This was the first time Jon had said something to her other than the usual greetings and the replies to her enquiries. He felt satisfied his words sounded genuine.

He looked at Arya.

Seven hells, it worked! She was throwing daggers at him through her eyes, and if she was trying to hide that, she was definately failing. Arya pursed her lips and tightened her hold on the reins of her horse. The horse bolted again suddenly, and Arya gasped in surprise. Loras took the reins from her hands and controlled the animal. He put his hand on Arya's back, asking her if she was okay. Arya nodded and thanked him, looking oblivious to his touch.

Gods, Jon wanted to rip that hand off his body. How can he touch her? He growled low in his throat. Of course his plan had to backfire and he had to be the one fuming with rage all over again.

Loras helped Margaery sit on her horse and then proposed to help Arya too. But she threw him a look that screamed 'I'm better than you at this' and sat on her own. At least, he didn't touch her again. Jon was thankful.

As time passed, his anger for Arya about their fight had begun to dissipate, leaving in its wake another rage, but this time it was directed towards the man by her side. Jon had realised some time ago that he could be uncontrollably jealous when it came to Arya, but now it was turning into a murderous rage. Arya was too happy riding that she didn't notice the way Loras' eyes would linger too long on her, and how he seemed to lean closer every time he talked to her. Why did he have to lean? She wasn't deaf. She could very well hear him from some distance. She would have said the same thing to him out loud, Jon knew. But she was too busy enjoying herself.

There was something about her, that made him unable to keep his eyes off her. He had never seen anyone enjoy riding as much as she did. Her beaming face proved how much she loved it; mayhaps as much as Jon loved swordfighting. Aegon took Arya's attention and they both decided to race.

"You won't win everytime, wolf-girl," Aegon muttered, a smirk on his lips.

Arya scoffed.

Both of them galloped off. Arya returned first, cheeks flushed and breathing ragged. Her face was beaming with a smile, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I presume you won?" Loras asked.

"Aegon's a snail."

"I heard that," Aegon called out. Both of them joined Jon and the others again. "I am defeating you one day, I swear."

Arya winked at him. "You're welcome to try, old man."

They reached a lake, and decided to stop. The horses were thirsty and Margaery had claimed she would faint if she didn't get off her horse soon.

Jon tied his horse to a tree and started walking towards the men, but was interrupted by Margaery.

"Isn't it such a hot day, Prince Jon? I feel so tired already."

"Yes it is. And it's a long way back," he said.

"Yes." Margaery sighed. "If I cannot ride back myself, won't you let me ride with you? Loras always refuses me."

Jon's face contorted at the idea. He was relieved when Aegon interrupted them.

"Have you seen Arya?" He asked.

Jon shook his head.

"She is probably nearby," Margaery said.

"I can't find her," Aegon said. "Will you go look for her, Jon?"

"Oh, we all should look for her, then," Margaery suggested.

"There's no need, really. Like you said, she's probably nearby. Jon can find her, can't you brother?"

Jon nodded, though suspiscious. What are you playing at, Egg?

"Why don't you look to your right?" Aegon asked. Jon almost asked him in return why was he not looking for her himself, but Aegon all but pushed him in the direction. Jon frowned at him, and went in search for her. A few minutes later, he found a clearing, and looked around, calling her name.

"Arya!"

"Shush, Egg! Can't you keep your bloody mouth shut?"

Jon looked at the direction the voice came from: top of a tree. His eyes fell on a particular one just beside him. Its branches were hanging low, and Arya was holding on one of them, standing on a rather big branch up above. She was looking away from him, leaning among the leaves. She turned and gasped in surprise when she saw him, almost losing her balance. Her hand clasped a branch.

"Jon-" she said. "I thought you were Aegon."

"What are you doing up there?" He asked, finally finding his voice after a while.

Arya smiled. "It's a starling's nest. New born birds. Why don't you come up and see."

Jon hesitated. "I don't think that would be wise."

Arya put out her tongue at him. "You're not that heavy. Maybe." She turned to the birds again carefully, then looked over her shoulder down at him. "They are so little, and so soft to to-"

One second she was speaking, the next she was down in his arms. Jon didn't even realise when she had fell and when he had opened his arms. He only heard her little cry, then felt her arms around him. His arms wrapped themselves around her as well, and her body grew still against his, her face hidden in his neck. Jon couldn't believe what had just happened. What in the seven hells is with this girl!

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, although he was immensely amused by the situation. Did she just fall from a tree?

Silence followed, then a small voice, "I am not dead, right?"

A grin made its way to his lips.

"No you're not. Although, I'd advise against trying that again."

Arya looked at him and grinned, her arms were still around his neck. For a moment, everything seemed alright. Jon leaned closer to her, unable to resist the way she was unknowingly pulling him towards her.

"I do like to take risks," Arya said and smirked. He was holding her up around the waist so her feet weren't touching the ground.

Jon's stared at her face, his eyes momentarily dropping to her lips. Using one of his hands, he tugged a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his other hand around her waist. He felt her shiver.

"Then do," he whispered. "Don't be afraid."

Jon saw a flicker of sadness pass her eyes. Arya pulled away from him, hurriedly disentangling herself from his arms. She took a few steps back, and avoided meeting his eyes.

"Thank you for catching me," she said nervously, biting her lip.

"You're not that heavy, you know?" Jon replied, smiling. Arya glared at him. "Maybe."

"Shut up."

Jon laughed and they walked back to the lake. His anger had faded, his foul mood had been brightened and he felt in him again the overwhelming need to close to her. It was strange how quickly she made him forgive her, unknowingly at that. If she wants to, she can make me fall down on my knees for her.

During their return, luckily Margaery didn't repeat her absurd request again. Loras and Arya were behind them this time, and after a while Jon slowed down his horse to ride beside them.

"Lady Arya." She turned to Jon with a pointed look."Do you want to race back to the castle?"

Arya's lips curved into a smile. She ignored him calling her by her title, and nodded.

They were almost at the same pace, none faster than the other. But just before entering the gates of the castle, Arya passed him with a grin on her lips. Her hair had fallen loose, flowing in the wind. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss that hair, or run his fingers through it; whether she'd like that.

She pulled her reins and Jon pulled his. She got down but instead of handing the reins to the stableboy, told him she'd do it herself.

"Next time," Jon said. "I'm defeating you."

"We'll see, won't we?" Her voice was a little breathless. Arya went inside the stables ignoring the protests of the poor boy.

Jon stared at her back, and a smile came unbidden to his face. Whatever she was thinking, she was wrong. It was never supposed to be a mistake. The kiss was meant to happen as sure as he was meant to fall for her. What are you so afraid of?

Jon nodded at the stableboy when he took his horse. Arya turned over her shoulder and threw him a small smile. Gods, she is so beautiful.

There was no doubt now. Jon couldn't give up. He needed her to love him as much he loved her. And maybe she did, and was just not admitting it.

I will have you, Arya Stark. By the Gods, I'll have you.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"My incredible plan worked, didn't it?" Aegon was grinning proudly. "You did keep looking at her the way back."

"You are a shit," Jon said.

"Oh, come on! Thank me properly, brother. Don't be so ungrateful."

Jon shook his head at him and sighed. "Thanks, Egg. You were very helpful."

Aegon smirked. "Why were you ignoring her earlier?" He asked.

"She was acting stubbornly... is acting stubbornly," Jon replied.

"She can be very much capable of that. But you are miserable at denying what you want." Suddenly, he looked like he remembered something and smacked Jon hard on the back. "Why the fuck were you flirting with Margaery?"

Jon winced in pain. "I was trying to make Arya jealous."

Realization dawned on Aegon and he grinned. "You are getting good at this, brother. And did you succeed?"

"Mayhaps."

"She is changing you, I swear. In a good way, of course. You were horrible with women before."

Jon sighed. Aegon discarded his cloak on a chair and asked,

"So, is everything alright now?"

"It will be." She'd have to understand. He needed her to. Jon had learnt in one day it was impossible for him to ignore her. He felt in his veins, the relentless desire to feel her beside him. Damn him for being so weak.

Jon noticed Aegon's eyes become serious as he took a seat. "You wanted to tell me something. What is it?" Jon asked.

"There is something I must confess." There was hesitation in his voice. And fear.

"What is it?" Jon asked again, his voice flooded with curiousity. Aegon stood up and began pacing the room. A habit he had picked up from their Father.

He took a deep breath and stood before Jon. "I slept with Sansa."

Jon was gobsmacked. He stood there registering what he'd just said. Wait, what? He thought for a moment Aegon was probably joking, but one look at his face proved otherwise.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jon punched Aegon in the face.

"What the fuck, Egg? Were you out of your mind?"

Aegon rubbed his face with his hand, his face contorted. "Thanks for destroying my handsome face, brother."

"Egg!" Jon growled.

Aegon sat down on a chair and lowered his head. "There is no way to apologize, I know. But honestly Jon, while I do regret not telling you, I do not regret doing it."

"You shouldn't have done it. It is a dangerous line you crossed."

Aegon ran his hand through his hair and leaned back on the chair. "You are breaking the betrothal, anyway. I will marry her after that."

"You think it's all too simple," Jon said, shaking his head in disapproval. "You should've told me sooner, Egg." He paused. "Does Arya know?"

Aegon nodded.

"We asked her not to tell you. I wanted to tell you myself. She wasn't happy when she found out either. I know I betrayed you, but I love Sansa, Jon. I knew you'd come to your senses and break the betrothal. It was obvious you didn't like her."

"It's not about the bloody betrothal!" Jon roared. "You have been fucking the daughter of the Warden of the North behind everyone's backs! Are you completely blind to the consequences that may arise, brother? If she gets with child-"

"She took Moon Tea," Aegon interrupted him.

"What else have you been doing behind my back? And when everyone finds out, what then? You would dare spoil her reputation and dishonor her? A daughter of Eddard Stark losing her maidenhead to her betrothed's brother before her marriage. Has all sense left you?"

"I cannot undo what we've already done. You are speaking as if I forced her to do it. That is not the case, brother. And who will know? I will marry her. We've been discreet. No one has to know."

"You talk like a fool."

"If loving her makes me a fool, then so be it," Aegon said.

Jon let out a deep breath, and sat on the chair beside Aegon. "You shouldn't have, Aegon. I have no objection against you loving her. But there will be consequences, brother. Not everything goes according to plans. Who knows it better than us?"

Aegon gave Jon a pointed look. "What about you? Convince me you wouldn't have done the same thing if it were you and Arya instead of me and Sansa. If you can love someone you're not supposed to, why can't I?"

"This is not about me and Arya! And I haven't slept with her!" Jon's anger rose. "I am not you. I have sense of my duty. I know what I must never do."

"But you want to, don't you?" Aegon smiled cruelly. "Don't bring duty into this, brother. I haven't done my duty, but tell me, have you? Is Arya your duty?" Jon didn't answer. "Sansa is your duty. Your duty is to love her, but we both know you are not capable of that. Would you have preferred she fell in love with you instead? So that when you and Arya inevitably fall in love, she end up crying and having her heart broken?"

"Is that your excuse then? You laid with Sansa so that she won't love me, and wouldn't want to go on with the marriage?" Jon growled in frustration. "I don't want Sansa's heart to break either, but was laying with her your only way to show her you loved her? You both were being reckless and you've put so much in jeopardy. Couldn't you have waited some time until I convince Father to break this match? Or were you too proud to keep your hands to yourself?"

Aegon glared at Jon. "You do not know anything about me and Sansa, Jon. Don't presume you know everything about everyone." Then his voice lowered. "As I told you, I apologize for keeping this from you. But I will not apologize for doing what I did. I love Sansa. We will convince Father to break the betrothal, and I will marry Sansa. I am sorry, brother, I truly am."

He rose and gathering up his cloak, left the room, closing the door with a loud bang. Jon fell back on the chair. He thrashed the glass of water on the nearby table on the ground in frustration. His own brother. Egg has been lying to me all this time. Egg!

How can they be so foolish? Sansa who was such a dutiful girl. Jon couldn't have imagined in a thousand years she'd do such a thing. He understood they were in love, and it wasn't that what was wrong. But laying with each other...

Aegon should've known better. And they had kept it from him for Gods know how long. The hurt would probably have been less if they'd just told him sooner. Even Arya knows. He'd never felt so betrayed in his life. Aegon had messed things up tenfold. If a child...

No, he couldn't let that happen. Eddard Stark was his Uncle. He'd never let his House go through such shame when he could prevent it. And Sansa, the sweet girl.

And Arya. Arya would be shamed too along with her entire House. It wouldn't do. He'd have to break this betrothal as soon as he could. He'd have to talk to his Father. Aegon's words had proved both he and Sansa were very much willing to repeat their actions. Sansa would have to marry Aegon soon, or things would get broken beyond repair.

Winterfell

Ned felt the hands grabbing his shoulders and shaking it. His own instinctively went to the sword on the bedside table, without even opening his eyes to see who the intruder was. He bolted up straight in his bed, then recognized the familiar face.

"Ser Rodrik."

"My Lord." He bowed. "I apologize for interrupting your sleep. But there is some urgent news."

"What is it?" Ned glanced to the side of the bed. Cat had not returned from Rickon's room. The little boy had a bad dream and had called for his mother in the middle of the night. A maid had come running to bid her, and Catelyn had hurried away.

"Pyke has been attacked, My Lord."

Ned stood up and wrapped a cloak around himself.

"A raven arrived. Maron Greyjoy wrote that Stannis Baratheon has attacked Pyke. It wasn't addressed specifically to My Lord, so I opened it," the knight added.

"Maron Greyjoy? Where are they now?"

"He writes his sister Lady Asha has left for Winterfell with a bannerman of Lord Greyjoy's. He wants Winterfell to keep her safe."

"Are you sure this is not faux? And Stannis Baratheon? How did he attack?"

"The letter was sealed with their sigil, My Lord. I believe it isn't fornitcated. There is no mention of the magnitude of the attack."

"It must be big. A Greyjoy doesn't usually ask for a Stark's help."

"My Lord," the man asked. "May Lady Asha be let in through the gates?"

"Yes, yes," Ned nodded. "If this is true, we must keep her safe. She is still a Lady of noble birth. But keep an eye on her companions." He rubbed his temple. "Stannis Baratheon... what is the purpose of all this? There is no fued between the houses."

A knock was heard on the door and Jory Cassel asked for permission to enter. Ned nodded.

"My Lord," he bowed. "A raven has arrived from Casterly Rock."

Casterly Rock?

Jory handed him the letter and exited the room. Ser Rodrik closed the door behind him.

Ned opened the seal and read the letter. He went over it thrice before folding it.

"It is true. Lannisport confirms there has been an attack on Pyke. Lady Asha's brother has sent another raven to Casterly Rock, informing him of it. Tywin Lannister says the Fury and its companions closed in from the South. Great Wyk has been burned."

Ser Rodrik looked grave. "Do you think the Lannisters have a hand in this, My Lord?"

"Tywin Lannister is not foolish, Ser Rodrik. He knows the finger would first be pointed towards him. He would never attack from the South as it would make it too obvious they were part of it." Ned's eyes suddenly turned cold. "There is another House with ships in the South."

"The Tyrells," Ser Rodrik whispered.

Ned opened the door of his room.

"Do you think we should send troops, My Lord?"

"It would be useless now. The attack has already happened. We will wait for Lady Asha. She can tell us of the matter clearly." He started walking to the solar. "Bring me Maester Luwin. I will send a raven to King's Landing. The King must be informed. I doubt it has been already done."

Ser Rodrik nodded and left his side.

Balon Greyjoy is a headstrong man. He would never have asked for anyone's help even if he was on the brink of getting defeated. Maron Greyjoy acted wisely. But Ned still suspected why Stannis Baratheon did all this. A coward's work. No honorable man attacked in the dead of the night. And how had his fleet gotten near Pyke in the first place without anyone noticing? There was no doubt there was another party involved.

Then he remembered...

Victarion Greyjoy and his fleet were in the Narrow Sea. That is why Stannis could succeed. Victarion would have crushed him if he had been there.

The Maester entered the solar. After the letter was written, Ned bid him to send it right away. The King needed to know. It could be a declaration of war, or a rebellion.

Rebellion.

What if it was Robert? There was no reason for Stannis to attack anyone. Storm's End had sworn fealty to the King amd there had been no problems between them and any other House. But Robert... Robert had big reasons. What if the Priestess' words were true?

For now, Ned shook the thought away. First, he had to know what had really happened. And for that, he needed to see Asha Greyjoy.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Rhaegar was the first to enter the hall with Lyanna on his arm. He was satisfied by the preparations and Lyanna agreed. The people made way for the King and the Queen.

The seats were higher for the royal family and friends. Jon sat to Rhaegar's left and Aegon to Lyanna's right. Sansa sat near Jon. Rhaegar looked at the future Queen. She was looking effortlessly beautiful in a golden dress. Rhaegar liked Sansa, and he was sure she would make a good Queen. He wondered why Lyanna did not think so as well.

I have to talk to Jon. Jon would have to agree with Rhaegar for him to prepone the wedding. He looked at his son, who was tracing the rim of his wine cup with his finger, staring at the opposite side.

"Jon," Rhaegar called.

"Father," he replied.

"After the feast, meet me in the study. There is something I must speak with you."

"Wha-" Jon stopped and nodded. "Yes, Father."

Rhaegar nodded in return. "You will ask Lady Sansa for your first dance?"

Jon replied hesitatingly,

"I was actually going to- I am asking Arya for the first dance."

Rhaegar looked at him surprised. "Jon, Lady Sansa is your betrothed. It is her you must dance with first."

"But Father, Ary-"

"No, Jon. You must dance with Lady Sansa first."

"Why would it matter who I dance with first?"

"No!" Rhaegar almost roared. He felt Lyanna place a hand on his arm and look at him worriedly. He gave her a reassuring smile and turned to Jon again. "You cannot do that, Jon. You will ask Lady Sansa. It is not proper for you to direct all your attention towards Lady Arya."

"But Father-" Jon meant to retort.

"I will hear no more of this, Jon," he stated. Jon dropped his fist on the table rather loudly, but because of the noise, no one heard.

Rhaegar looked at Arya, who was looking rather bored sitting and drinking. The girl always reminded him of when he first met Lyanna. His wife was wilful and unrestrained just like her, but after all these years, Lyanna had turned into a Queen in every way. Her wolf-side was still evident in her ways, but she had tamed herself for her position. It was the wildness in her that had made Rhaegar fall in love with her, he remembered. The mischievious glint in her eyes, and the flight in her steps.

His mind went to Jon's words. He is my blood. What is he is entranced by the same carelessness Arya possesses? After all, he was alike to Rhaegar in most ways, even though there was a distinct contrast in their appearances.

When the dance started, Rhaegar watched Arya slip to the side of the room, not at all looking eager to dance. Jon looked at her with sad eyes, then asked Sansa for her hand, which she gave eagerly. Rhaegar himself took Lyanna's hand but just then he saw Varys approaching him.

"Your Grace, might I have a word?"

Rhaegar apologized to Lyanna and Aegon took her hand instead. She walked away rather unwillingly.

Rhaegar turned to Varys.

"What is it?"

"There is news from the Iron Islands, Your Grace." He looked around. "May we retire to a more private place?"

Rhaegar nodded. Both of them entered the solar. Two of the Kingsguard, Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Arys Oakheart stood outside the door. Connington arrived a few minutes later, and the door was closed behind them.

"What is it Varys?" Rhaegar asked.

"Stannis Baratheon has attacked the Iron Islands, Your Grace," he replied. "Balon Greyjoy has been taken captive, and his sons slain. His daughter has taken refuge at Winterfell."

Rhaegar sucked in a breath. "And Victarion Greyjoy?"

"Victarion Greyjoy is on the far side of the Narrow Sea."

"Your Grace," Connington said. "A raven has arrived from Winterfell."

Rhaegar opened it quickly.

"Do you know who are Stannis' allies?" He asked, closing it and crushing the paper in his hands. Robert. This is Robert's work.

"No, Your Grace. Not yet," Varys replied.

"Jon," Rhaegar commanded. "Send a raven to Storm's End. Stannis needs to answer for his actions. He has crossed his limits. Send one to Eddard Stark as well. Tell him to ask Lady Greyjoy what happened. Let her be taken care of. If the reports are true, she is the last living child of Balon Greyjoy. Varys, you find out who is supporting Stannis. And find out if Robert is involved in this."

"Yes, Your Grace." Varys bowed.

"If he is," Rhaegar added, "Stannis will be punished for his crimes, and so will his allies."

After dismissing them, Rhaegar went downstairs. The Tyrells may be involved. But he couldn't be sure.

Lyanna was taking his arm before he knew it.

"Is everything alright, my love?" She asked.

"Yes." He didn't want to spoil the feast for her. He would tell her later.

"What did Varys want?"

"Nothing important," he assured.

He took her hand and they started dancing. Rhaegar sighed. For the time, he would let Lyanna's smile distract him from everything else. But only for now.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"I believe you owe me a dance." Arya gasped in surprise. She turned to see Jon was looking expectantly at her. When did he get here?

Arya had not forgotten about the dance, but she had hoped he had. She didn't want to dance at all. She had always been clumsy and horrible at dancing, despite her Mother's continuous efforts to make her step properly. Some things just weren't meant for some people. And it wasn't like Arya liked the chore and had put much effort in it anyway.

She looked around the room, thinking of a way she could refuse the man beside her.

"I don't how to," she replied truthfully.

"Just follow my lead," he suggested. "Please?"

She didn't reply. Wasn't Jon supposed to be mad at her? After all, she had rejected him so clearly. But he was right here now, standing next to her, and she felt like all her efforts to push him away had been in vain. How much it had hurt her to say no to him. Why must he keep talking to her? It would make her need to repeat her actions.

She didn't want to.

"You told me we're friends." The coolness in his voice surprised and relieved her equally. "I'm tired of dancing with Margaery. Give me a reason to refuse her. Help me as a friend."

The way he spoke made her want to scream. He was doing this deliberately: trying to feign nonchalance. He was trying to get on her nerves, and he was succeeding. But Arya wouldn't change her decision. If he wanted to act as friends, then she'd too. But he won't hurt her by his indifference. He can't.

The music started again, but none of them moved from their places. A minute passed, then another, and Arya realised there was no way he'd retreat. She looked at him and nodded.

He held her hand and she felt the heat seep from his palm into her own. His eyes bore into hers in a way she knew only his' could.

"If I stumble-"

"I'll catch you," he finished her words, staring at her intently. She had never known a person before who could calm her and make her fumble in nervousness at the same time.

They joined the others while they were already busy moving along. Sansa threw her a smile, busy dancing with Loras. Arya looked everywhere, trying to avoid Jon's eyes. Her mouth curved in amusement when she saw Aegon dancing with Margaery with a tortured look on his face, like he was going through so much pain. Margaery's eyes met hers and she threw Arya a fake smile.

She tried to recall all the dancing her Mother had ever tried to teach her. And failed. Right foot forward, then the left, then again the right... or was it the left this time?

She almost tripped when Jon held her waist and balanced her, pulling her properly onto her feet. She finally looked at him, unable to do the opposite anymore.

"I told you I'd slip."

"And I told you I won't let you," he replied instantly, leaning in closer to her ear. She could feel his warm breath on her skin, and unintentionally leaned closer to his mouth. His lips met her temple for mere seconds before he pulled away. Arya felt herself grow hot. Jon pulled her closer by the waist, and she almost bumped into his chest. His eyes were staring at her, and not for the first time, she realised how identical they were with her own. His were darker than hers, but grey still.

The music stopped and they parted. Arya could feel her skin flush. The room felt too small, the air felt too heavy and she struggled to breathe. Before Jon could make his way to her again, she pushed past the people and ran upstairs to her room. She didn't care if anyone saw.

Once she was inside, she let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She cursed loudly. What the fuck was wrong with Jon? Why can't he just bloody stay away from her? Even her dress was irritating her. The bloody thing was so big and heavy it was a surprise she was able to wear it all this time.

She heard the door click behind her and turned abruptly. Jon was standing there, his back to the door which had been locked.

She turned to look at the opposite wall.

"Why are you here? You should go downstairs."

She heard his footsteps come closer. She tensed and began to turn around, but he caught her arms and turned her around to the same position she was in moments ago. His chest was to her back. Arya struggled to break free, but he tightened his grip.

"Jon," she warned. Her heart drummed against her chest, and Arya closed her eyes, relentless in her efforts to get away from him, but it only resulted in him pulling her closer.

"Why is it so hard to know what you're thinking?" His mouth was against her head, and she could feel his lips move. Jon breath then ghosted against her neck.

"You should go." Her voice was weak.

"Not before I have what I want," he whispered. One of his hands dipped lower and held hers, their fingers intertwining. "I know you're pretending about everything. Just tell me. Trust me, Arya."

He pressed a kiss against her throat, lingering at the spot with his lips. Arya arched her back slightly, and sighed.

"You have to marry Sansa. Your Father wants you to."

"You care about what my Father wants, and not what we want?" Jon laughed. "Sansa doesn't want to marry me."

"What?" Aegon told you.

"You hid it from me, and I am angry at you. I'm angrier at Egg. I know the truth now. None of us will be happy with this marriage, so I am breaking the betrothal."

"You're not breaking anything," Arya shouted. He kissed her neck again, and her breath hitched.

"I am. I'm not marrying Sansa."

"But you have to! The prophecy says-"

"Wait." Jon went still behind her. Arya took the chance and turned around, but his arms were still holding hers. When she tugged at them hard, he pushed her against the wall, pinning her arms to her side. "Who told you that?" His face was unbelievably close to hers.

Arya inhaled sharply. "I know about it. I know you have to marry Sansa. If you don't-"

"I don't have to marry anyone." He laughed aloud. "You have been doing all of this because of the- Arya, Gods! You cannot possibly believe all that."

"But I do!" She insisted, her head lowered. "You have to-"

"For the last time Arya, I don't have to do anything! Prophecies don't tell me what to do." He held her face in his hands and made her look at him. "Is this the only reason?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," she murmured.

"You know what hurts me? Not being able to be with you. Nothing can possibly hurt more."

Arya stopped struggling and put her hands over his arms, looking up at him questioningly.

"You don't want to marry Sansa?" She asked.

"No. I want you. I love you. I'll talk to my Father, and I'll marry you." He stroked the side of her face with his knuckles, and she bit her lip. "You're cold."

"You're too warm," she replied instantly, rolling her eyes.

A hint of a smile lingered on Jon's face. His eyes seemed to ask her permission for something. Arya stood on her toes. A thousand questions ran through her mind.

Fire burned away every one of them.

She pushed her lips to his, feeling nervous even though she had done this before. This time I kissed him first. I can't say this is a mistake anymore. But, I don't want to.

Jon's mouth curved into a smile and he held her face in his hands, kissing her in return with equal, if not more, fervour. Arya felt her back hit the wall as he left her lips to trail kisses down her neck. She sighed.

When his lips met hers again, she tried to move her hands to his face, but the sleeves of the dress made it difficult to. She dropped her hands to her sides in frustration and rested them on his shoulders instead. Jon stopped kissing her and looked at her curiously, then a smile formed on his lips.

"Turn around," he whispered in a raspy voice.

Arya looked up at him with a questioning gaze. He stroked her hair with his hand, repeating his words, gentler this time,

"Turn around, love."

Arya did, although hestitant. Jon dropped a kiss on her neck, and she felt his hands touch the laces at the back of her dress.

"Jon," she murmured. "What-"

His lips met her skin again.

"Stand still."

Arya waited and started to feel the dress loosen a little. She shivered slightly at Jon's touch. Finally after a few tugs, she felt like she was able to breathe again.

"You alright now?" He asked.

Arya spun on her feet and kissed him hard, her hands finding their way to his hair. Jon gripped her waist and pulled her closer. She felt his tongue lick her lower lip, and instinctively let it enter her mouth. One of Jon's hands was stroking her back.

He started planting kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, then dipped his head lower to kiss her neck. Arya breathed rapidly and tilted her head to the side, giving him more space.

"I love you," she whispered suddenly, without realising the words left her mouth. Jon left her skin and looked down at her.

"I love you," she said again, looking at him, her voice more determined this time. Jon was silent for some time, before he touched her forehead with hers and sighed. Arya smiled.

"Marry me," he asked and said at the same time.

Arya's smile disappeared. She pulled away from him slightly and shook her head.

"I can't do that."

"Why?" Jon asked surprised.

"Jon..." She took a deep breath. "I am not like that. I don't want to marry and have children and- That's not what I want with my life." She touched his cheek with her hand. "I am not like other girls."

"But I am expected to marry," Jon said.

"I know. But really, it's strange. I am not a Lady, I wear men's clothes. I like to fight. I have never been interested in marriage."

"But you have to marry someday."

"Yes, I know. And maybe I will. But I am just fifteen now. It's too early."

Jon stared intently at her. "I want to marry you. I want you as my wife. As my Queen."

"And that makes it harder still. I don't want to be Queen."

Jon sighed. "You are the strangest woman in Westeros, I swear to the Seven! You know women would actually kill to be Queen?"

Arya pursed her lips. "I know Margaery would." She looked at Jon who was grinning at her. "What?"

"You are adorable when you're jealous," he said and chuckled. Arya glared at him and held up her hand to hit him, but he caught it halfway. His fingers traced her palm and he brought her own fingers to his lips. "You are with me. It's enough for now."

Arya wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the floor, kissing her tenderly on the lips.

"People will look for us," Arya said.

"I think they'll be able to spare us for some more time." He smiled into the kiss. "I love you," he said.

"I love you," she replied.

Maybe things will be alright now.

Storm's End

"The North would be the hardest to resist."

"Eddard Stark is too honourable."

Robert punched the wall hard, and his knuckles came back bloody. "Where was his honor," he spat, "when Lyanna left me to marry Rhaegar? She was betrothed to me, and he didn't blink an eye to side with him when I rebelled. I was his friend, he should've stood beside me. I piss on his honor."

"You know him better than I do," Stannis mused. "I don't know Eddard Stark personally. What I do know is that he is the Warden of the North, and even if you don't, his people know him as the most honorable man." He emptied his wine cup in one gulp and poured again. "The North alone would destroy our troops. Add the Targaryens, and we have no chance."

"Ned must side with us," Robert said.

"That is near to impossible, brother. He would never."

Robert studied the map laid out on the table. His lip curled and he took out his dagger, pressing it to the upper part.

"Then we must find a way to stop him from fighting altogether," he said. "If the North doesn't fight, Rhaegar is more vulnerable."

"And how would that be? Ned Stark wouldn't listen to you. He is loyal to the Crown, and his sister is the Queen. His eldest daughter is also betrothed to the Crown Prince." Stannis leaned back on his seat, eyeing his brother carefully. "What could possibly force him not to fight for the King?"

Robert smiled cruelly. "I have something in mind. Although, it would be a great risk."

"A greater risk than rebelling against Rhaegar Targaryen? I think not."

"Well then." Robert sat down on a chair. "Let's put the bastard to work."

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Arya turned around in her bed, trying to go back to sleep again. And failed. After a few more tosses and turns, she sat up slowly with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. She drew her knees up to her chest, looking out of the windows into the clear, blue sky. It was mid-morning; she had slept late again.

Irina had been in the room, she could tell. The windows were open, there were fresh flowers in the vase, and clothes had been laid out for her in a chair. Arya had appointed the girl as her handmaiden. She quite liked her, and the girl was just a couple of years younger than her.

A knock sounded on the door, and she looked around. The person was persistent, and kept knocking frantically. She got out of bed, and went towards it.

"Who is it?" She asked, without opening it. If it was some guard or servant, she would drive them away.

"Miss me, love?" Arya bit her lip at the sound of his voice and grinned.

"What if I didn't?" She didn't open the door.

"I doubt that." Jon sounded amused, too. "Now, let me in please, Arya."

"No," she shot back playfully. "Shouldn't you be downstairs, My Prince?"

"Let me in, Arya. Or I will go around the castle and climb up your window."

"No, you won't." She laughed, hand on the doorknob.

"Yes, I will. But then, I'd have to cover my face, and the guards will think I'm a-"

"Oh shut up." She opened the door and pulled him inside in one second, then in the next her lips were on his.

"You said you didn't miss me," he said between kisses. His hand trailed down her back along her spine, settling itself on the small of her back. Arya rolled her eyes, and stood up on her toes, arms wrapped around him, and her lips busy with his.

When they finally pulled apart, Arya opened her eyes, looking at the man infront of her. She ran the tips of her fingers over the stubble on his cheek, like she'd wanted to. Jon smiled, and tilted his face sideways to kiss them.

"Good morning," she said.

"Morning, wolf."

Arya pecked him again on the lips. He turned her around and clutched her waist, nuzzling his face in her neck.

"Jon?"

He nipped her skin to show he was listening.

"Now that things are... good, will you teach me swordfighting again?"

"Well, it was because of you things got bad in the first place," he whispered in her ear.

"No, it wasn't!"

"Yes, it was. If you weren't so stubborn-"

"I wasn't stubborn!" She turned on her heels. "I just didn't know." She shrugged.

"Liar."

"Stupid."

Jon chuckled. "I've known a long time." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Probably since I first saw you."

"That's ridiculous."

"You're blushing."

Although Arya knew he was right, she meant to retort, but the door clicked and opened before she could.

"My Lady-"

The girl shrank back gasping, somehow keeping herself from stumbling over. They had forgotten to lock the door.

Damn.

Arya froze in her spot. Only then she realised Jon had one hand around her waist and the other on her neck. And they were standing close. Really close...

The girl's cheeks turned a deep shade of red and she looked down on the ground, mumbling apologies.

"It's alright," Jon said to her in a kind voice, but it seemed to make her more nervous.

"She's seen," he whispered to Arya.

"I'll take care of it." Arya kissed his cheek again. She wanted to kiss his lips, and by the look on his face, he wanted it too, but they pulled away from each other's arms, and Jon left the room, throwing her a 'come down soon' and a smile that made her skin warm.

"Irina, close the door and come here."

The girl walked with nervous steps, undoubtedly frightened. Arya sighed.

"I am not going to do anything to you," she said.

"I am sorry, My Lady. I know I shouldn't have barged in. I should've knocked, but I thought you were sleeping, and I didn't know Prince Jon..." She blushed again.

"It's okay, don't worry so much." Arya took her hand and Irina's eyes went wide. "Jon won't say anything."

"The P-P-Prince might be a-angry, My Lady." She was very close to crying.

"Did he look angry?" Arya asked.

Irina shook her head.

"You won't tell anyone what you saw?" Arya asked. If she told anyone before Jon talked to Rhaegar, things might get messy.

"No, My Lady." She looked at Arya. "Isn't Prince Jon to marry My Lady's sister?"

"He was." Arya nodded. "But the betrothal will break, and Jon, he'll- he loves me."

The girl smiled. "My Lady would be Queen."

"Someday, maybe," Arya agreed. That was the problem: marriage. Arya had turned a black eye on marriage ever since she remembered. It meant leaving your family, staying away from home. It meant living life fulfilling duties and according to a husband, and having children.

But, I am far from home already, and Jon is different. He wouldn't...

She shrugged the thought off. Marriage was a long way off, that much she was sure of.

"What about your sister, My Lady? Won't she be sad?"

"No, she won't." Though she trusted this girl, she wouldn't tell her everything.

"I'd like to see My Lady as Queen. You will be a good Queen."

Arya smiled. "You won't tell anyone until it's official?"

"No, My Lady. I won't."

"Thank you."

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Something has happened, hasn't it?"

"No."

"It has," Aegon said again as he glanced between his brother and Arya. Both of them had been stealing glances at each other the entire time they have been sitting, and he had noticed. But Arya said nothing, and only smiled. Aegon found that strange too.

"Where did you disappear after the dance?"

Arya choked on her bread and Aegon gave her a glass of water. He glanced sideways to watch Jon, who face turned to one of worry. He glanced away when his eyes met Aegon's.

We're supposed to be angry at each other.

"We didn't disappear. You didn't see, we were right there," Arya said trying go focus on the food.

Aegon brow arched. "I never said you two. I said you." He chuckled. "What are you hiding, Arya Stark? Spit it out."

She dropped her spoon on the plate with a sigh, and Aegon knew he had won.

"You fancy yourself too smart, don't you?" She asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I am the smartest one around here. Now, that was not the subject." He leaned close to her.

"We talked," Arya mumbled. She took the spoon again and started to fumble with the food.

"And then?"

"I love him," she said. Aegon felt himself grin wider. Fuck their argument. He needed to go see Jon and tease him relentlessly about this.

"It's about time."

Arya nodded. Aegon was really glad for her. He could have bet on her loving Jon since Gods knew when. The only thing stopping her from accepting that was her stubborness. And his brother. He thanked the Gods for getting him out of his misery. He finally got her.

Someone coughed and Aegon turned to see it was Jon. Sansa, sitting beside him, patted his back, but he kept on choking. In seconds, everyone turned to look at him; he was still not stopping.

Aegon felt Arya tense beside him, and putting his hand over her reassuringly, he turned in his seat. Jon put one hand on the table and pushed himself up from his seat, but...

No!

Aegon heard Sansa's gasp of horror, and his Mother's cry of Jon's name as he rushed to his side. Jon coughed harder as he tried to crawl up from the ground, but to no avail. Ser Barristan Selmy, who was standing beside Rhaegar, held him up by one shoulder and Aegon by the other.

"Jon!" Lyanna screamed, and ran to his side. The King stood up, and did the same, while the others at the table were disturbingly silent. Jon started coughing out blood, and Aegon paled.

"Take him to his chambers," Rhaegar told a guard, but Aegon intervened, saying he would do it instead. Rhaegar nodded, and tried to console Lyanna who was now crying. Aegon looked at Arya, who was staring at them, a horrified look on her face. Sansa was now by her side. He nodded at them, and they took Jon upstairs; he had passed out.

"Get the Maester!" Someone shouted as they laid Jon down on the bed. Aegon touched his neck. It was icy cold.

The Maester was there in minutes, hurrying towards them.

"Prince Aegon." He looked at the knight. "I think it'll be better if we go out."

Aegon left the room without replying, and leaned against the wall, finally registering what had just happened. He ran back downstairs. No one had left the room, or had not been allowed to. The Queen was sitting on a chair and sobbing. Margaery was by her side. Aegon's eyes searched for the sisters, and found them on the far side of the room. His Father was nowhere to be seen.

"Arya," he said gently when he reached them. She turned to look at him, and he noticed her swollen eyes. Sansa softly stroked her sister's hair.

She's crying. Gods!

"The Maester has gone to see him," he said. "He'll be fine, Arya."

Arya didn't say anything. She was looking straight ahead. She is scared. His mind went to his brother upstairs, and he muttered a silent prayer to the Gods.

He heard the sound of footsteps behind him. "Prince Aegon, the King has called you to the solar."

Aegon reluctantly followed the guard, after laying a hand on Arya's shoulder and throwing a small smile at Sansa. Her eyes were glazy too, and he suppressed the urge to crush her to his chest.

"Aegon," his Father called just as he closed the door behind him. He saw Varys and Connington standing. The eunuch bowed to him slightly.

"His food has been inspected," Rhaegar said gravely. "There was poison in the wine."

Aegon's hands fisted to his side, and fear loomed in his heart.

Just then a knock was heard on the door and the Maester entered.

"Your Grace."

"Is he alright?" Aegon asked.

"I can confirm it is a poison, My Prince. But..."

"But what?" Rhaegar asked.

"It is quite a strong poison. But the amount is very, very low. The only damage it could do was what you've already seen. I do not understand that if someone wanted to poison Prince Jon, why would they give him such a small amount."

"I think it was Jon's luck they didn't. And the culprit's foolishness." Rhaegar turned to Connington. "Have the gates been closed?"

"Yes, Your Grace. No one can escape or enter."

"Good. Grand Maester, you should be with Jon."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'll go right away. Queen Lyanna is with him now, and the Stark girls. He'll take time to wake up."

Rhaegar nodded. The Maester left and the door was locked.

"Any suspect yet, Varys?"

"No, Your Grace. I have taken a sample of the poison. It wouldn't take long to know its origins."

"The Tyrells, Your Grace," Connington said in a hard voice.

"We cannot be sure, and surely we can't point our fingers at them without proof."

"Father," Aegon said, and all the eyes turned to him. "Maybe it wasn't Jon who was supossed to be poisoned." Rhaegar eyes turned hard.

"Jon is a Prince of Westeros," he continued. "This is a futile effort. If someone wanted Jon dead, they'd take care not to mess this up. How many times can you sneak poison in his cup?"

"Prince Aegon is mostly correct, Your Grace," Varys said. "A poison for Prince Jon would've been prepared carefully. They won't be careless with it."

"But who was it meant for, if not Jon?"

"Whoever did this," Aegon said, "must be punished severely. This is a treason against the Crown."

"I know that, Aegon," Rhaegar said.

"I know you do, Father. But if it is someone from an important house, I suggest you punish him the same as you would a lowborn."

"You don't have to worry about that."

Varys accompanied him on his walk back to Jon's room.

"It's been a while since I saw you, Lord Varys."

"Yes, Prince Aegon." Varys nodded. Aegon didn't detest Varys like he detested Connington, and he even had a sense of admiration towards the spymaster. Varys, in turn, seemed quite respectful towards Aegon, if not simply fond.

They entered the room, just as Lyanna and Sansa were exiting.

"Aegon," Lyanna said. Her eyes were red, and her voice was broken. She passed him swiftly, Sansa behind her. She threw a brief nod at Aegon, and their hands brushed each other's.

His eyes went to the other person in the room. Arya turned to look at him.

"The Maester went to do some work."

"Did he say he'll be fine?" He asked her. He wanted her to say the words, so she might believe them. Nothing will happen to Jon.

"Yes."

"My Lady," Varys interuppted them. "You can go and take some rest if you want to. You seem tired."

"No!" The sound of her voice surprised the men. Arya took a deep breath. "It's fine, really. I am well enough, Lord-" She looked up at him.

"Varys, My Lady."

She nodded and turned back to Jon. He saw her slide her palm over his hand, with a gentleness Aegon didn't believe she had in her. Varys was looking at them too, his eyes narrowing.

There was a knock on the door and Margaery and Loras walked in, arm-in-arm. They bowed to the men, and Margaery wiped a tear off her face, which Aegon believed was very much false. They went to stand by Arya's side, and Aegon noticed Loras lay a hand on her shoulder, and threw her a small smile. What surprised him was that Arya returned it.

"Oh, Lady Arya, it is such a misfortune! To think he was smiling and talking one minute, and then became ill the next. Oh, poor Prince Jon!" Margaery voice would've fooled most, but none of the people present in the room.

"And I see you've been crying," she said again. "It's not strange, after all he is to be your brother by law."

Arya flinced, and Aegon knew everyone noticed. He knew she was likely to punch Margaery too, if she went on any further. To his surprise, Loras seemed to mirror his sentiments.

"I think it's best we do not talk of his condition now, sister. Lady Arya is very sad. We must not worry her more. Come."

He leaned in to whisper something in Arya's ear, and she nodded. If Margaery was offended, she acted well and hid it. They greeted Aegon and Varys formally, and left the room.

"Good actors, those two."

"I know you share my suspicions of them," Varys said.

"I never appreciated them. Although Loras seems fine, I never really befriened him."

"Lady Arya is quite the contrary," Varys mused. "Some would say the way Loras Tyrell looks at her, it might not be long until she settles in Highgarden."

"Highly unlikely, Lord Varys." Aegon couldn't stop the smile forming on his lips. "Arya is more likely to drive a dagger through his heart."

"He seems to think otherwise."

"It's only for a few days."

"Until?" Varys asked, raising his brow.

"Until someone rights the wrongs."

He looked at them. Jon and Arya looked too similar. Arya was paler, but the small contrast was veiled by the grey eyes and dark hair they both had.

"There may be another motive," Varys said, pulling him from his reverie.

"What do you mean?"

"What if killing Jon wasn't the motive after all? The culprit could have hoped to acquire something else. Knowledge, of a very different kind."

Aegon kept looking at Varys questioningly. The spider's words were riddles most of the time, and even though Aegon deemed himself smart enough, he was no equal to Varys in such things.

Varys was staring straight ahead at Arya.

"In times of tragedy, even the best kept secrets spill out. Our tears always betray us."

Varys turned to look at Aegon. He was still pondering over what he'd just said, still trying to understand.

Aegon's eyes suddenly widened in shock.

Arya!

"What hurts a man most is losing someone he loves. Family, friend, ally, or the worst..." He left the words unspoken.

"She is safe in King's Landing," Aegon countered.

"As we thought Prince Jon was. Until today." Varys smiled one last time at him, and bowed. "Things may be entirely different than what we think. I must leave now. There are orders to follow." Aegon nodded.

"You two seem to be good friends."

"That's not the word I'd use." He walked towards her, and sat down on the chair beside her, running his hand through his hair.

"You've cried," he said.

"And it didn't kill you." The jape fell just like another word from her mouth, with no mirth in it.

Aegon looked at Jon carefully for the first time since he'd fallen unconscious. The blood had been cleaned from his chin, and his breathing was more even than before. He touched his neck again. It wasn't icy, but it was still cold.

"You should go see Sansa," Arya said, her fingers stroking Jon's hair, her eyes fixed on him. "She has been strong today. She wiped my tears, then Aunt Lyanna's. She cried too, but she didn't show it. It's been a while since I've seen her hide her tears. I am always the one who doesn't cry, and still..."

"It's not a sin to cry. And don't worry, it was only me and your sister who saw you, I won't tell anyone, but I just might taunt you about it."

Arya let out a small laugh and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. "Stupid."

"Glad to have you back, My Lady." He looked at Jon. "You must be cautious. The person who tried to harm Jon might still be around. If he is dangerous, he could hurt you too." Let Varys be wrong.

"Why would someone hurt me?" She asked genuinly surprised.

"Just be cautious," he said, without answering her question.

Arya shrugged. Aegon walked back to his room some time later, after literally pushing Arya inside hers. She kept insisting she stayed near Jon, but he didn't listen. Jon could take days to wake up, and Arya needed rest too. He knew it had been too hard for her.

As soon as he opened the door, he saw Sansa, who jumped in his arms.

"Aegon," she sobbed against his neck.

"Hey." He cupped her face in his hands, and wiped her tears using his fingers. "Don't cry, love."

"I was so scared something would happen to him, and Arya was so, so sad. I thought if anything like that happened to you, I'd lose my mind."

"I'm right here. Nothing will happen to me." He kissed her, and turned around to lock the door. "You shouldn't be here. Someone will see an-"

"I just wanted to see you." Her voice sounded so scared and small he almost thought he would cry himself.

"It's fine." He hugged her tightly. Sansa relaxed in his arms, and he kissed the top of her head.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"How dare you talk to me like that?"

"You were making fun of her," Loras replied calmly.

"So?" Margaery asked mockingly. "I'm not exactly fond of her."

"But you have no right to speak to her like that!" He shouted.

Margaery gasped in surprise and shook her head. "You're yelling at me because of her? What right do you have that you're defending her so?"

"She is my friend," he said stiffly.

Margaery scoffed and pushed her hair over her shoulder. "Don't get too attached, brother. At the end of the day, she won't hesitate to hand over your head to him. You know why we're here. Don't wander your mind off to other things."

"She is not a thing." He eyed her with a hard look.

Suddenly, Margaery's eyes sparkled a little. "We could use it to our advantage, you know. But still, I suspect she'd leave the Crown Prince of Westeros for you."

"We're still not sure if-"

"What is wrong with you?" She smiled smugly. "Do you love her, Loras? That little wild wolf."

"That is none of your business." He took a seat on his bed.

"Yes, it is. Have you forgotten, dear brother, that we're already their enemies?"

"I am not. If I stop our plans-"

"Don't." Margaery's voice was as hard as steel. She glanced him over and turned around. "Don't let Father hear that." She left the room, and Loras lied on his bed.

He had seen the dried tears on Arya's eyes today, and it had made him somewhat sick. He knew this wasn't part of the plan, but then neither was she. They hadn't even known the youngest Stark girl was supposed to be in King's Landing. The plan was for him to seduce Sansa Stark, the betrothed of Jon Targaryen. But had he even spoken properly to her once? The younger girl took all of his attentions.

But Margaery was right, there was no way in the seven hells she would leave Jon for him. She clearly loved him, and thanks to his Father, it wouldn't be a secret much longer.

He probably wasn't in love with Arya, but he really liked her, and he wanted her. Women usually fought each other for him, but this girl was so different. She wouldn't offer herself to him, and he didn't expect her to. But he had to keep trying. Maybe, just maybe, she might actually begin to like him more.

But it won't be because my father wants it.

He could keep her safe from the war. She was still innocent, and war is cruel. He could take her to Highgarden if things in King's Landing turn ugly.

He would like that.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Not much had changed in the three days Jon had been unconscious. The castle was more cautious, but things had started to cool off. No one had been allowed inside the Prince's chambers except his family, not even the Tyrells and the Stark sisters. Aegon tried his best to make his Father relent as he knew how much Arya was worried about Jon and that Jon would want to see her face when he woke up, but Rhaegar insisted. To his surprise, Arya agreed with his Father. She just wanted him to be safe, and of course she threatened to kill Aegon if he didn't keep informing her about his improvement.

Arya was strangely calm, but it scared him. It was the calm right before a storm. Aegon had confided to her and her sister about the Tyrells possibly being behind Jon's poisoning. It took him and Sansa much effort to keep her from barging inside Margaery's room and demanding answers. Aegon finally had to urge her to keep silent, at least until it was proved so. Varys was being late than usual; the poison was still not identified.

He and Sansa weren't able to spend much time together. Sansa was with her sister as much as she could, and it seemed although Arya and Aegon himself was repulsed by Margaery Tyrell, Sansa had befriended the girl. Sansa convinced him it wouldn't harm anyone. She wished to spend time with Margaery and he wouldn't tell her to do anything she didn't want to. Arya was another case altogether, and had gone to great lengths to try to convince her sister to carry a dagger with her, but to no avail. Sansa was sure Margaery wouldn't hurt her.

The castle had more guards than usual after the attempt on Jon's life. No part was vacant, and it made Aegon and Sansa's nightly rendezvous impossible. It won't be long though, he reassured himself. When Jon recovers, they will talk to their Father as soon as possible. Now that Arya and Jon were together, he doubted Jon would want to spend any more time pretending to be okay about the betrothal, and Aegon himself missed Sansa. Once their Father agreed, things would finally settle into place.

Jon was improving, to say the least, but he still looked weak the day after he woke up. The Maester assured them he would be better in no time, and the weakness was only a result of too much milk of the poppy and little food.

It didn't take much effort on both the brothers' side to talk to each other normally again. Aegon feared Jon would be wroth with him, but his younger brother only shrugged. He laughed saying the poison had got to his head, and after an hour or so, they were back to being as normal as they've ever been, as if there had been no fight at all. Aegon knew they would talk about it later, but for now this was enough.

Arya was mostly at Jon's side. Jon seemed to put much effort in taking when she was near, and he honestly seemed to heal faster. Arya also forced him to eat more, threatening to punch him bloody if he kept sending his food away. Jon knew she was being far from serious but he humoured her, and promised to finish his meals only if she promised to stay by his side. It was a relief as Aegon didn't have to worry much about both of them when they they were together. He still remembered Varys' words, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but feel restless about it all.

The Queen turned out to be much observant. Lyanna didn't fail to notice Arya constantly being at Jon's side and their not-so-hidden displays of affection. Once, she and Aegon walked in on them leaning against each other; Arya laughing, and Jon looking at her. The most foolish man would have been able to see the passion behind Jon's eyes, and it wasn't long before Lyanna was sure of what was going on and approached Jon directly.

"Are you sure you love her, and not just admire her or like her?" She asked. Jon was glad because he couldn't hear anger or fear in his Mother's voice. It was just surprise, and Jon knew instantly there would be no objection against their relationship at least from his Mother's side. Not that he had thought otherwise.

"I am in love with her. It's the only thing I'm most sure of."

He told her about him and Arya, about Aegon and Sansa, and how much they wanted to break the betrothal. Jon did left out the part about Aegon laying with Sansa as he thought it would only result in Sansa being viewed as dishonourable. His Mother promised to help him talk to Rhaegar, but she did warn him that he may not be as understanding as her. Jon knew his Father would not be as happy as his Mother, but he only hoped Rhaegar would see that he loved Arya. King or not, he was still his Father.

The only thing between them and their happiness was their Father and the damned prophecy. The Red Priestess continued to reside in the castle, and the recent events in Westeros had made the King listen to her more. It made him trust her visions, and there was no doubt it would cause much problems.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"Father?"

The day was almost done when Jon and Aegon finally entered Rhaegar's solar. The King didn't seem surprised to see them, and only waved his hand to bid them closer. Jon felt Aegon inhale sharply. He had to agree this was something to make even his brother nervous.

"Lyanna said it is important," Rhaegar said.

"It is," Jon replied. "It is about my betrothal."

Rhaegar nodded.

"I wish to end it."

Lyanna was right. His Father's reaction was nothing like her. His brows edged closer and his lips turned to a hard line. Jon knew this would be harder than he had anticipated. "Is this a jape?" There was only anger in Rhaegar's voice.

"No, Father, it's true. I do not wish to marry Lady Sansa. I urge you to reconsider the betrothal."

"Are you out of your senses, Jon?" Rhaegar roared, standing on his feet. Many would have cowered at his voice, but Jon wasn't ready to relent so easily. When it came to Arya, he wasn't ready to relent at all.

"He is not, I assure you," Aegon answered. "It is his wish and-"

"No one is breaking any betrothals. Jon will marry Sansa Stark. I will hear nothing more."

"No!" Jon stood up. "I will marry Arya."

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes.

"You will not, Jon."

Aegon placed a hand on Jon's shoulder and shook his head at him. Jon took a step back and Aegon approached Rhaegar. Jon knew Aegon was much more adept at negotiating than he ever was, so he let him handle.

"You cannot say that without hearing all of it," Aegon said.

Rhaegar eyed him warily. "What is your purpose in this? You have nothing to gain by this."

"Actually, I do. You see, Jon doesn't want to marry Sansa." He pushed his hair away from his eyes. "I do."

He went on without waiting for Father to reply,

"Jon is in love with Arya, and I am in love with Sansa. Even if you break the betrothal it won't change things. I will marry Sansa and you don't have to worry about Lord Eddard. Please, Father."

"No," Rhaegar repeated. "This is madness! How can you fall in love with Arya, Jon? You are betrothed to her sister! And you," he turned to Aegon. "I thought you had no plans of marrying at all."

"No, I didn't. But I want Sansa, and she loves me as well."

Rhaegar stared at his sons then shook his head disapprovingly.

"I will not agree to this. You are children. This is a passing fancy, I'm sure. You-"

"Passing fancy for both of us?" Aegon asked, his veneer slowly crushing. Jon knew Aegon was slowly being pushed to his limits. It was not something that happened often, but he understood why this would be the moment it did.

"I'm sorry, Aegon. I gave given Lord Stark my word, and the whole realm knows of this by now. I cannot let it aside now."

"You rather will not," Jon spat. "This is all because of that godforsaken prophecy! Your head is so filled with useless prophecies you refuse to see anything else!"

"Jon," Rhaegar growled. "You dare speak to me in such a way?"

"This is not about the realm, this is just about you. No one is dying, Father!" Jon sighed. "You cannot put everyone's happiness in line for such a thing."

"And if we die? The war has already started. I do not wish to forsake the safety of anyone."

"Mother broke her betrothal," Jon countered. "You fell in love with Mother while she was betrothed to Robert Baratheon."

"And a war followed that killed tens of thousands of men. That same man is preparing to wage a war again, and this time there is more at stake than last time." He sat on his chair. "Do you wish to see Sansa and Arya and everyone you love get destroyed in this war? There is much beyond our own happiness. I need to make sure everyone is safe."

Aegon clenched his teeth in anger.

"It's just a betrothal, Father. One marriage will not decide the future of the realm."

"If it can, who are you to ignore it? You are Princes, you have duties, as do the girls. Do not put dreams in their heads they will not be able to fulfil."

"But, Father-"

"I will hear no more of this!" Rhaegar shouted. "And keep your voice low when you speak to me, Aegon."

Aegon cursed and turned to Jon. "Leave him be with his bloody prophecies," he whispered harshly. He turned to Rhaegar, and bowed stiffly.

"Your Grace."

Aegon crashed the door close loudly behind him. Rhaegar sighed.

"You have to understand, Jon."

"No, I don't." He stood up as well. "I will not marry Sansa."

"You will. You are a Prince and you will do what is expected of you."

"You want to destroy every bit of mine and Aegon's happiness, and you don't even feel remorse," he shouted. "You are a King."

He looked one last time over his shoulder before leaving the room.

"I won't marry anyone but Arya, Your Grace. Try and make me."

He heard his Father's furious call of his name behind him but he walked on. Fucking prophecies! That's all he can think of. First, Jon's own birth was claimed to be prophecised, and now this. He exhaled loudly in irritation. Aegon was nowhere to be seen. He had probably went somewhere to release his frustration.

It was a good thing he hadn't told Arya about this. He wouldn't have been able to tell her how his Father spat his wishes back in his face. What am I going to do?

0-0-0-0-0-0

Arya took the letter and sat down. Her face broke into a smile when she saw the familiar sign of the direwolf on it. She brushed her fingers over the sign then quickly opened the letter, her eyes scanning over the letter. She started reading, but her smile kept fading as her eyes went lower.

Across her, Jon seemed to sense it and he asked softly,

"What is it?"

Arya didn't reply, instead she read the letter twice all over again, trying to decipher the words properly in her head.

"Arya, is everything alright?" Jon asked again,

Arya bit her lip and folded the letter, putting it over her lap.

"It's Father," she said. She looked at the other person in the room and suddenly her chest tightened in a suffocating way. "He wants me back at Winterfell."

Arya couldn't decide whether she should be happy or not. She was going to see her family again; her Mother, her Father, Bran and Rickon. But what about the ones she'd left behind? She had known all along that she'd eventually have to go back, but she had decided to ignore the inevitable. She looked at Jon. I will have to leave him. Suddenly, the thought of going home seemed strangely painful.

"You'll go?" His voice was strained.

"Mother is sick, and he wants me there. He says it's hard to look after Bran and Rickon by himself." He lowered his gaze in disappointment like he was hoping she'd say no.

"I have to go, Jon. They need me," she added.

Jon walked to her bed, and kneeled before her, and locked his eyes with hers.

"Call me selfish, but I don't want you to go."

I don't want to go. The words got caught in her throat as she fisted her fingers in his hair. Jon closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

"You have to come back," he said.

She nodded, but she didn't know how to answer. What would she come back as?

"I will talk to Father, I promise." He kissed her hands. "He will have to agree. I will write to you when this is all over. You have to promise me, Arya. Promise me that when I tell you to come back to me, you will."

"I will," she agreed, without hesitation. She shook her head. "Your Father didn't agree, did he?"

Jon stilled. "He is going to. Aegon and I will make sure of it."

"And if he doesn't?"

He looked up and cupped her face in his hands. "We'll be together, anyway. Mayhaps we'll run away to the Free Cities, Iron Throne be damned."

Arya rolled her eyes. "No, we won't! Besides, you won't leave Aegon and I won't leave Sansa here."

"Then, we'll take them with us."

"Sansa will kill me if I try to destroy her dream of being a Lady."

Jon kissed her head. "Aegon won't give up on Sansa and I won't give up on you."

"Aegon's been brooding. He hasn't spoken properly since yesterday."

"He's angry," Jon said.

Arya laughed. "We are a mess!"

Jon pushed her hair from her face, and traced her jaw with his fingers. Arya shivered from the warmth, and suddenly she felt like crying. She had not realized that the thought of being away from Jon would seem so scary. Jon, Sansa, Aegon. There was a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. When she had first arrived in King's Landing, she had wanted nothing more than to leave. But now things had changed so drastically. She didn't want to leave, and she knew it shouldn't make her feel as miserable as it did.

"Well, we got a few more days. Let's make the most of it," he said. "When you come back, you're coming back as my betrothed."

"We're not marrying so soon, Jon," she said, narrowing her eyes.

He sighed. "I just want you."

"You do have me."

Jon shook his head. "We'll talk about this later."

She couldn't agree more. Fighting was the last thing she wanted.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Aegon embraced her tightly in his arms.

"I'll see you soon, wolf," he said, smiling.

"You too, old man." She winked.

Sansa cried as she bid her sister farewell. Arya didn't seem too intent on leaving, and Sansa didn't want to let her, but all of them knew they would always put their family first. Jon clutched her tighter than everyone else, not caring that most of the castle was watching. His Father threw a pointed look at them and Lyanna just smiled sadly. She was sad too, he knew. Lyanna had tried her best to convince Rhaegar, but it seemed he wasn't willing to listen to her either.

Loras and Margaery politely said their farewell. While Margaery seemed happy, Loras had shook her hand almost sadly. Aegon hadn't forgotten what Varys had said about him fancying Arya. Maybe he wasn't wrong, because there was equal amount of regret and sadness in Loras' eyes when he let go of her hand. Margaery took her brother's hand and led him inside immediately, as if she was scared he would do something.

Aegon had arranged for extra guards to be sent with Arya. No one knew his actual motives, but Jon was more than happy to agree to the extra security. If Aegon had a say in it, he wouldn't have let her leave at all, especially knowing she just might be in danger, but Jon convinced him otherwise. He had to agree it was probably better for her to stay away until the betrothal matter would be solved. And besides, Arya would be more safe in Winterfell than in any other place. He was sad to see his friend go, but he knew she would return soon. Once he'll get permission to be betrothed to Sansa, Arya and Jon could be together. The only problem was his Father, and though Aegon and Jon had no clue what to do, they weren't ready to let go.

As the horses galloped away, he looked at his brother. Jon looked years older staring at the back of the carriage, that was literally taking his happiness away.

"Get your brother inside, Aegon," his Father said. "He has made quite a display in front of everyone."

Aegon wanted to retort back, but Lyanna shook her head at him. He scoffed and walked to Jon.

"Let's go inside, brother," he said.

"It feels wrong to let her go," Jon said. "Something tells me I shouldn't have."

"She'll be fine," Aegon assured him.

"You've been brooding," Jon said.

"I've just trying to find a solution," Aegon replied, pushing his hair away from his eyes. "And I've failed so far."

He had never really thought about what he'd do if his Father refused. He was sure he wouldn't. Maybe he had underestimated how much superstitions held power over Rhaegar Targaryen.

Jon kept staring ahead, then after a while turned and walked back with Aegon. He patted his back.

Come back soon, Arya. This one's going to be miserable without you.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Sansa hadn't always been fond of her sister. She remembered a time when they used to argue all the time, always used to scream at each other over petty things. Arya had been hard and loud mouthed as long as she could remember, and being a soft-spoken girl as she was, Sansa had been repulsed by her little sister's actions most of the time during their childhood.

But as time passed, the sisters grew closer. As Sansa grew, she regretted all the times they had fought over almost nothing at all. She had called Arya 'Horseface' when they were younger. Many girls and Sansa herself would have cried at such nicknames, but Arya never did. She did find her a few times running to Robb after someone would call her that, but other than that Arya had never shown any kind of weakness. Thay was one thing that Sansa admired about her sister now. She knew how to hide what she was feeling and how to act just the opposite of that.

When Robb left to squire for Doran Martell was the time the sisters finally sought each other's company. Robb was always Arya's favourite brother and she missed him terribly. Sansa was too proud to confess out loud that she wanted to spend time with Arya, so when the younger girl made an effort, it was all it took for her to loosen up. Before they knew, they had become as close as sisters could be. There were petty fights and quarrels still, but they always managed to reconcile.

"You must not think you're alone. I am very sure we will become as close as sisters in no time," Margaery said, and took her hand, bringing her out of her thoughts. Sansa smiled genuinely at her friend.

"Of course. You are very kind." She didn't know what Aegon and the others were about. Margaery seemed like a nice girl, and she was beautiful and graceful. She was a bit too clever but Sansa did not think she had in her to be evil.

"When I was younger my grandmother used to tell me that perhaps one day I shall become Queen of Westeros by marrying Prince Jon. But I am glad if it's not me, it's you."

"You would have made a good Queen, I think, Lady Margaery," Sansa said. She couldn't think of any other words to reply to that. Was she implying she couldn't because of her?

"Oh, shush! I know you shall be a better Queen than I." She leaned in close to Sansa with a sweet smile gracing her lips. "And the Prince has his eyes set on you. I think he is very much in love with you."

Sansa blushed and lowered her eyes, trying her best to hide her laugh. If I could only tell you which Prince!

"Tell me, is your sister betrothed to anyone, Lady Sansa?" Margaery suddenly asked.

Sansa blinked in surprise. "Arya?"

"Yes, Lady Arya."

"No, she is not," Sansa replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I was merely-"

She stopped and looked up.

"Prince Jon," she greeted as he walked up to them. Sansa nodded at his direction, and he replied with a smile.

"Lady Margaery. Sansa." He bowed formally to Margaery and turned to Sansa. "Might we have a word?"

Sansa stood up and smiled at Margaery. "You must excuse us."

"Of course. We were simply speaking of betrothals, Prince Jon. I asked Lady Sansa if Lady Arya were betrothed to anyone. You must not think me sneaky, My Lady, I was merely asking because I have an unmarried brother myself, so..." She winked.

"I don't think Arya has any plans of marrying yet, My Lady," Sansa replied, stealing a glance at Jon. "If you'll excuse us, Lady Margaery."

"Of course, of course. Lovers talk. I must not interrupt." She kissed Sansa on the cheek and bowed, leaving them.

"Thank you for not losing your calm," Sansa told him as soon as Margaery was out of sight.

Jon shrugged. "What could I have gained?"

"She is thinking of Arya like a sister would," Sansa said.

Jon looked at her and shook his head. "Can we not talk about Margaery and Loras Tyrell?"

"There you go. Now I hear the jealousy."

Jon smiled warmly at her and took a seat. He handed Sansa a letter.

"I was just passing by when I saw the guard who brought this. It is from Winterfell," he said, pointing to the seal.

Sansa opened it hurriedly.

My dear Sansa,

How are you? You must pardon me for not writing for so long. I have been busy and so has your Father.

How is Arya? I haven't written to her as well. I have news for you, sweetlings. Robb and Arianne Martell of Dorne have been betrothed. Robb wanted to tell you himself but I think it might be a while before he comes back home. Arya would be angry with him, I'm sure, for not hearing it from him, but she must understand. Your brother is in love, Sansa. I have no doubt this union will be a joyous one.

I hope you are happy. Your Father worries about you both, but I know you will be alright. Arya seems to like King's Landing too, much to my surprise. She hasn't wrote in a long time asking to come back here.

I hope you are getting along with Prince Jon. I wish I was there to offer you motherly advice, but alas, I cannot leave Winterfell.

Your Father sends his love. He is in good health and so am I. Tell Arya to stay out of trouble, will you? I miss you both dearly.

Cat

Sansa stood up in astonishment as soon as she finished reading the letter.

"My brother is betrothed to Arianne Martell," she said. But that was not what was bothering her.

Jon congratulated her heartily.

"Aegon speaks highly of Arianne," he said. "I am very happy for your brother."

Sansa nodded absentmindedly, then bowed to him clumsily.

"I wish to answer the letter now. I must ask for your leave," Sansa said.

Jon nodded and she hurried away. As soon as she reached her room, she asked the maid for the writing material. Sansa sat down heavily on the chair, her brain working too hard.

He is in good health and so am I. Tell Arya to stay out of trouble.

Why hasn't her mother mentioned Arya's departure? She wrote as if she didn't know about it at all. Sansa checked the date again, but it was evident it was written after Arya left for Winterfell. A sudden fear clenched her heart.

Sansa wrote as quick as she could to her Father, almost scribbling the letters. Did it mean her parents hadn't called Arya to Winterfell? Then why did Arya leave? Who wrote the letter? There were too many questions but there was one that was repeating in her head over and over again, and the one that made her knees weak.

Is Arya safe?

Aegon opened his door on the third knock. She could tell he was busy with something but Sansa was too agitated to wait. Aegon pulled her inside his room and locked the door behind her.

"What is it?" He asked.

Suddenly, Sansa unable to hide it anymore, choked on her words.

"I don't think Arya's safe, Aegon." She showed him the letter which was now crumbled because of her tight grip. "It's from Mother. Read it."

Aegon looked at her with narrowed eyes then turned them on the paper. He frowned in confusion. It looked like he was going over it quite a few times.

"I do not see wha- Oh!" He turned to her with surprise evident on his face. "Your Mother doesn't know she left?"

Sansa shook her head. "I do not think so." She gave him another letter. "Let the fastest raven carry this to Winterfell. Father will tell us if he wrote that letter or not."

Aegon nodded and left the room. Sansa felt the tears hit her eyes as soon as he did. She had no idea as to what was happening. Did Arya lie about the letter just to get out of King's Landing? But why would she? She would've told someone, at least Jon.

A few minutes passed before Aegon entered the room, his face as pale as his hair.

"You must not tell Jon," he said seriously.

"But-"

"He will panic, Sansa," he interrupted her. "I hope this isn't as serious as we think, and only a mere mistake. Maybe Lady Stark didn't know that Lord Stark wrote the letter. There are many explanations." He sighed. "She'll be fine."

"Do you think someone is planning to hurt her?" Sansa asked, shivering at her own words.

Aegon kept silent. Sansa stepped closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. What can anyone hope to gain by hurting her? Aegon's silence was scaring her more, but perhaps the silence was the only answer he had.

"We should tell Jon. Please, Aegon, he'll help."

"Sansa, no!" He shouted, then lowered his voice. "Let's just wait for your Father's answer."

Sansa nodded her head hesitatingly. Jon deserved to know. He was so eager to hear news of Arya. Sansa tried hard to shake away the impending feeling of guilt in her heart. She looked up at Aegon. His face was still and his jaw clenched. She guessed he was thinking too hard, but perhaps he was angry as well. She would listen to him this time. Her mind was too weary to make decisions on its own, and Aegon being with her was a relief.

Storm's End

"Cloth, girl! Quick!"

The girl hurried to the bedside. The Lady was panting harshly now, her breathing coming in short gasps. He usual skinny face looked white, as if all the blood had been sucked out it. She gave another shrill cry that made the girl curl her lip like she herself was hurting. She had seen too many labours in her sixteen years, and what she'd seen so far of this one left little doubt in her mind that the mother would not survive long, even if the child did. It looked like the one reason her soul was still inside her body was so that she could give birth.

It was two hours later that her speculation was proved. The Lady breathed her last, her limbs shaking and words barely coming out of her mouth. Lady Selyse held her child for the first and last time in her arms, and closed her eyes.

The child was a little thing, pink and plump. The girl leaned in to look at her properly but the midwife shooed her away immediately.

"Well, if you're not a kitchen maid and don't know how to clean, I don't think you're needed here now, lass! Go, now!"

She nodded and hurried away. She went to the kitchen and cleaned the blood, but realizing the stench was too strong, decided to go out in the open air to get the horrible and unpleasant smell off her body. A commotion brought her attention to the gates. She halted in her tracks to look.

It was the bastard and his men. No one was to call him that, but most of the castle referred to him as that despite their Lord's orders. A bastard would be always be a bastard, whether he's a beggar's or a King's.

The men were yelling loudly by the time they were inside the gates and started unmounting their horses. She was just hiding behind a pillar to keep herself from being seen when something caught her eye. The black haired bastard opened the carriage and tried to pull someone out. The person kicked and pushed, and the bastard growled and hoisted her up on his shoulder.

It was a girl, no older than herself, the woman noted. Her hair was unkempt, probably from struggling and her wrists were bound. Her clothes were covered with blood and there was a cut on her shoulder that was unmistakably made by a sword.

She can't be a whore. The men would've had their way with her and threw her somewhere. There was no sign of wound on her body but the cut, and the dress she was wearing was intact, and it looked like it wasn't made of cheap material. They probably haven't raped her yet. But who was she?

Ever curious, the girl sneaked behind the men until they were in the hall. She hid herself in the shadows, careful to keep still. Lord Robert waved everyone out of the hall, and only he and the bastard remained with a few guards. Stannis was perhaps beside his dead wife and newborn child.

The girl felt frightened thinking what could happen if she was caught, but she had done this many times. The most they could do was kill her or rape her; the latter had been done so many times to her that she wouldn't mind the former. She tried not to breathe loudly and focused on the men. The girl was put down not roughly on the floor, and held so that she could stand up.

The girl glared at the Lord. There was venomous rage in her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the rough treatment, My Lady," Robert said.

"She has been quite resisting," the bastard said. He leaned down and untied the cloth around her mouth. The girl pulled her mouth up and spat in his face.

"Cunt!" She shouted.

The bastard growled at the girl and his hands fisted in his sides. Robert threw him an angry look and he lowered his eyes.

"No one will hurt you, Lady Arya," he said. "I am Robert Baratheon."

The girl stared at Robert with steely grey eyes then suddenly grinned.

"They are going to cut you piece by piece," she spat. "If I don't beat them to it."

There was something in her eyes that promised she would not hesitate to do it even for one second if she had the chance.

The Lord laughed loudly. "Your Father? Or your precious Prince?"

"Why am I here?" She asked, and this time there was a hint of fear in her voice, although it could barely be heard.

"You're here," Robert leaned in close to her and rubbed her cheek with his hand. The girl pulled her face away from his touch harshly, throwing him a warning look. "To ensure that your father Ned Stark is kept in check."

"You're filthy! The King will kill you! He should have killed you that day at the Trident when you begged for his mercy!"

Robert clenched his teeth in anger. "Take her to her chambers and loosen her binds. Let her sleep hungry tonight for insulting her future King."

The girl laughed again, her voice echoing the otherwise silent hall. "Jon is the future King. Jon Targaryen. Not you. You are a fool, Robert Baratheon. Nothing else," she said.

"Take her away!" He glared and knocked his fist loudly on the table, which only seemed to please the girl.

The bastard dragged her away, his face a mask. It was hard to tell if he was angry or frightened.

She is a Lady. A Stark. A hostage.

She waited a few minutes before the hall was filled with people again, then slipped past the crowd. Lord Stannis and some men passed her and she bowed. One of the men winked at her, but she paid no heed.

King's Landing

Jon tried his best to keep still, but his chest was heaving with fury. Aegon put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off angrily. He stood up and clutched his brother's collar roughly, his eyes black like coal under the dim light of the candles.

"How dare you keep this from me?"

Aegon stayed calm and pushed his brother back by the shoulders.

"We weren't sure."

"Gods, if anything happens to her," he murmured, then turned to Aegon again. "I could have saved her if I had known earlier."

"I don't think it would have been of use. They had probably reached Storm's End by the time we learned of it."

"Aegon." Jon sounded defeated, his voice strained and it conveyed how much in pain he was. "If they hurt her, if they touch her-"

"They won't," Aegon replied, pacing away from his brother. "Robert knows better than to hurt her. They only want to keep Lord Stark away from the war."

"I will bring her back," Jon vowed. "We will march to Storm's End and bring her back."

"No, Jon. This is war, we cannot-"

"Do you not care about what happens to her?" He asked his brother incredulously.

"Do not doubt of my affection for Arya. I would give myself up in exchange for her. But we do anything foolish, they can and will hurt her. We cannot risk that."

"Where is Father?" Jon asked. "Is he not thinking of a solution?"

"He's waiting for Lord Stark. Until he arrives, I'm afraid we're in the dark. We only know half of what Robert Baratheon wants."

Jon propped down on the chair. "She will fight, Aegon. I know it. I don't know if it will be for the best or for the worst."

"She's Arya. Of course she'll fight," Aegon agreed.

"I want her safe. I would give anything, anything to bring her back." Jon clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. "There will be war even if Father doesn't want it. Robert Baratheon will regret the day he thought of taking Arya. If he lays a finger on her..."

"He won't," Aegon said again.

Jon wanted to believe him more than anything, but his head ached from all the thoughts of what could happen to Arya in that place, among those people. Will they lock her up? Will they chain her, or bind her? Jon could hear the clattering of his own teeth and feel his limbs shaking. He cursed all of the things that kept him from riding to Storm's End right now and bring Arya back home. Back to him.

He had never felt as helpless as he did now, and neither had he felt such regret at being a Prince. All the things that bound him to his place, he would throw them all away just to have her in his arms.

He would give up anything.

Chapter Text

Storm's End

Only when she was locked up, Arya started realizing the gravity and danger of the situation she was in. She was abducted and taken to a strange place where she knew no one. She tried the hardest to calm herself, but the truth was that this was not something she could get herself out of alone. She should never have left, but how could she have known? How could she have known that she was to be ambushed in the middle of the road? The panic was evident in the way her blood boiled beneath her skin and her eyes scanned her prison.

Any kind of escape.

She hurried to the other side of the room and opened the window, glancing out. All she saw was the night sky filled with clouds, not a single star to be seen. Her room was apparently so far above the ground that she couldn't dare try to flee through the window. She was a few feet above the ground, and even if she took a chance, there were enough men down there to thwart every one of her plans.

She remembered the man's face. His black hair, his blue eyes. She had fought him as hard as she could, but he was too strong for her to ward off. His stare and knife had hit her at the same time. She would still have stayed upright, but someone had hit her on the head. She was unconscious before she could turn her head around.

She only remembered the journey vaguely. The times she woke, the man pushed food inside of her mouth and made her swallow it by forcing her to drink. The drink was so strong she could barely keep her eyes open, and most of the way she was asleep.

Arya knew why they took her. She knew her Father, and there was no doubt he would do everything to make sure she was safe. She may not be a pro in battles, but she knew that with an army as vast as the North's the Targaryens would win in no time. She would wish for no harm to come to Jon; she would never wish for her Father to withdraw his army. But even if he did, wasn't the entire Westeros on Rhaegar's side? Wouldn't he win the war nevertheless?

Were they planning on keeping her locked up in this place? For how long? Her head was spinning.

I should never have left him.

His face had never left her vision since she had regained consciousness fully and realized which place she was in. Did Jon know she was here? She missed him; his eyes, his laugh that had seemed so rare before but was now as common as breathing when she was near.

Arya shook her head amused. She remembered all those stories Sansa used to tell about damsels in distress and knights who would cross seas and mountains to rescue them. It was ironic that somehow, she had found herself in a situation quite the same.

Now I am the damsel but I don't want to be rescued.

She truly didn't. Not if it meant danger for Jon. Arya was capable enough - she knew she was - to get out of this place by herself. She would keep fighting until she was away from this godforsaken place. They didn't know her.

I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.

They cannot put a direwolf in a cage. Everyone would pay. Robert Baratheon, the one called Gendry.

Everyone.

0-0-0-0-0-0

"One day you have to show me Winterfell."

"No. I cannot do that."

"Why? You do not wish for me to see your home?"

His hands were drawing patterns on her stomach. Arya kept pushing his hands away as it tickled, but he was persistent. He turned her around swiftly. Arya laughed when she saw him pouting.

"You will surely catch a cold or worse, a fever. I cannot possibly risk your health."

Jon raised his eyebrow at her skeptically.

"Don't tease me, love. I will carry you to Winterfell right now over my shoulder."

"I will kick you!" Arya challenged.

"Your kicks cannot hurt me, you little thing." He kissed the tip of her nose, as Arya glared at him. She punched him in the stomach, and Jon was somewhere between laughing and wincing. Arya knew he intentionally let her punch him and shove him. She recognized the glint in his eyes everytime he looked at her. She knew she must have the same look in her eyes as well, like a love-struck fool. It was just that she didn't care anymore. She had tasted true happiness with Jon, and she knew she always would as long as he was with her.

When Arya woke up, her body was drenched in sweat and her heart was racing inside her chest. She pushed away the sheets she had curled around herself the previous night. For a while, she thought she was in her room in King's Landing, only minutes away from reaching Jon. The images from the dream were floating in her mind and she felt herself shiver when she realized how much she actually missed him.

Was she going to dream about him every night?

Arya guessed she probably would. But she had to make sure she escaped from this place before she ran out of memories to dream about.

King's Landing

Aegon was leaving.

Dragonstone had always been Aegon's seat. He visited it often, and he loved the place. Jon had been there quite a few times as well, but he preferred King's Landing more.

Despite everything though, this wasn't a time he was willing to part with Aegon; not when he had absolutely no idea what to do about anything.

His shock and distraught at the news was soon replaced by seething anger for his Father. Rhaegar had made the worst decision at the worst time. When Jon needed Aegon most, his Father was sending him away. He had apparently commanded Aegon to do it rather than ask for his opinion.

Jon entered his brother's room without knocking. Aegon was sitting in a chair, wine goblet in one hand while the other was clenched so hard his knuckles were white. His posture was tight like a taut bow.

"Tell me he has changed his mind."

Aegon gulped his wine down, and raised his brows at Jon. His shoulders slumped lightly, but it didn't diminish his anger. Jon was too familiar with his brother, and he knew what kinds of things made him sad and weary and what made him furious. This was definitely one of the latter.

"Our dear Father? Oh no. He's busy locking himself up in his fucking study and doing Gods know what. A wise person to advise him would prove to be useful, of course, but his only company at the moment is Connington, who just nods his head at everything he says. Must be the reason he became the Hand of the King in the first place." Aegon's voice kept rising until it sounded like he was shouting.

"You're drunk," Jon said calmly. Aegon enjoyed indulging in alcohol but rarely to the point of being fully drunk.

"And why shouldn't I be?" Aegon walked so he was closer to Jon, their bodies inches apart. Jon could smell the Dornish wine on his breath. "You know the real reason why he is sending me away, Jon? It's because he still wants you to marry her. The Priestess keeps telling him about her dreams, and all he does is listen to her like a bloody fool."

"I would never. He knows that."

"You must convince him of that alone now. I won't be here to stand beside you. Quite advantageous for him, don't you think? I was always the more stubborn one."

"Not this time," Jon spoke. "Not in this case."

Aegon put the goblet down, his fingers shaking. The lids of his eyes were heavy but he sounded far from sleepy.

"When are you leaving?" Jon asked.

"The day after tomorrow. Apparently war is coming and there is no fucking time to waste."

"Sansa wouldn't like you swearing like that."

"Sansa wouldn't like me leaving," Aegon said, his voice softening to almost a whisper. "I don't think she would mind me swearing miles away in Dragonstone."

Jon lowered his eyes to the floor. "I don't know what to do. I truly don't."

"It's not your fault, brother," Aegon assured him, shaking his head at him. "Fate is playing vile tricks on us."

Jon remained silent. Tricks wasn't the perfect word for what was happening to him. To all of them.

"I haven't even told Sansa, you know. Have you?" Jon shook his head. Aegon combed his fingers through his hair.

"You should sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow," Jon said. His heart felt heavier with each passing second, and he tried to think of any solution. But these days he seemed to do nothing but feel helpless.

He wanted to rescue Arya, he wanted to stop Aegon from leaving, he wanted to stop his Father from making bad decisions. Jon realized that two of the three people who ever understood him and truly made him happy were slipping out of his reach. Absence only makes the heart grow fonder, but he wasn't willing to risk being separated from them. He knew he was too selfish for that.

0-0-0-0-0

His dark mop of hair fluttered wildly, the crown resting on the top of his head. He was nothing like the Kings that earlier sat on the Iron Throne. His hair black rather than silver and his eyes grey rather than lilac. A dragon who was different than every other one.

Jon used his fingers to push his crown in place as it shifted slightly to the left. His eyes were stern and almost unmoving, something akin to a violent fire raging deep in them.

A hand reached out to touch his arm as if to calm him. The person was standing to his right, her eyes staring straight ahead.

A crown rested upon her head as well, shining on top of the auburn hair that was as bright as sunshine.

Melisandre opened her eyes instantly. Her lips twisted and formed a smile, and relief flooded through her veins. The suspicions of the Queen were now of no importance to her.

I know what I see.

She held no doubt now who the next Queen would be. For a few brief moments, especially after she had met Arya Stark in person, Melisandre had somewhat started to question her visions. There was something about the girl that had made her uneasy and think twice about everything. The girl had a great role to play in the war to come.

Until that moment, Melisandre had only seen fragments. She had never specified to the King which girl Jon had to marry. The King had chosen Sansa Stark, and she had not objected. She had almost been convinced though, that it was the younger girl after she had seen her fight beside Jon, but she knew she had to be sure before she spoke to the King.

Now, however, she was convinced the King hadn't been wrong and there was no need for her to correct him. She recognized the auburn hair clearly.

Chapter Text

Winterfell

There was something about the Weirwood trees that always unnerved Catelyn. When Catelyn had been heavy with Robb, she had come here to pray. That was the first time she had felt warmth in her blood before the tree. Her children may be Northerner in birth but she had always wanted them to worship the Seven as well, and that day Catelyn had felt that even if they didn't, the Old Gods would protect them. Her children belonged to the North and the Old Gods in the way she never did.

Here she found herself again, kneeling in front of the heart tree. The eyes of the Weirwood face latched themselves onto her, and the chill around her was forgotten as Catelyn closed her eyes, agony pooling inside her heart.

"Keep my child safe. I beg you." The winds blew away her breath, and she wondered if her prayers were even heard by the Gods. She heard a wolf howl far away, and knit her fingers together tightly, feeling the icy touch of the wedding band on her finger. The face of her little daughter flashed in front of her eyes.

"Lady Catelyn?"

She recognized the voice of Asha. She didn't find the need to turn, not pleased with being disturbed during her prayer. She heard the woman approach and opened her eyes. Asha's footsteps were almost inaudible because of the howling wind in Catelyn's ears. She kneeled beside her, and her clothes reminded Catelyn of the ones Arya wore.

"You follow the Seven, don't you?" Asha asked.

"I do," Catelyn answered, then after a while added, "My children worship both the Old Gods and the Seven."

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry for your daughter. I lost my family too. I know how you feel."

"Arya is not dead like your family," Catelyn said sternly, refusing to listen to any possibility of that kind.

"I did not mean that," Asha said, her voice harder than before. "I wish Arya returns home safely. I have no reason to wish harm for your daughter. However, your daughter is in the hands of an enemy. You should think of a way to rescue her rather than spend time praying to the Gods. I know mine never listened to me."

Catelyn met Maester Luwin on the way back to the castle, Asha's words still ringing in her ears. She pushed her thoughts aside and looked at the Maester. The old man was shivering despite the heavy cloak around his shoulders shielding his body from the cold. He handed her a letter.

"From Lord Robb, Lady Stark."

Catelyn opened the letter and the contents made a small smile visible at the corner of her mouth.

I will be home soon.

Robb

All she wanted for now was to have all of her children within her reach and to keep them safe. She sighed thinking about Arya. A skinny little thing she was, but always high-spirited. Half-horse they called her in Winterfell; she was one of the fastest riders, even surpassing Robb. Catelyn felt a tear hit her cheek, the drop freezing instantly on her skin. She had never encouraged Arya to leave King's Landing and cone back home to Winterfell, hoping she would catch some Lord's eye, but she would never have let her leave the North if she had known that this would be the consequence of it.

The news of Robb's return was somewhat a balm to the wound.

There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.

With her husband gone, Winterfell needed a Lord, and it was time for Robb to see to his duties. He had written earlier once stating the possibility of bringing Arianne with him, but it seemed now he was coming alone. She prayed again to the Gods - she wouldn't care which ones would hear her - to keep her daughter safe. The thought of anyone hurting her made Catelyn weary and anxious. Her heart whispered to her that Robert would never hurt a girl, but the Robert she knew wouldn't have attempted an abduction. It was still a mystery to her how people could change so drastically in the span of mere years. Revenge made men do terrible things. She only hoped there was something of the old Robert left in the man, the one who was Ned's friend and never had anything but a kind word to say to her.

The Narrow Sea

Onboard the Iron Victory, Victarion glanced into the horizon. The sun shone brightly above him, covering everything it touched with skin-tingling warmth. This weather didn't suit him, but he had never been one unable to adapt.

The shouts of the crew could be heard clearly, but Victarion's mind was occupied by something else.

My family is dead.

As far as he knew, his brother and his nephews were dead. Asha was apparently safe in Winterfell, but he doubted any Greyjoy would ever be anything akin to that in the North. His regret was deep about not being near Pyke during the siege. All that he knew was that it was the work of the Baratheons. His fleet would have outnumbered Stannis' by enough, but if his brother wasn't able to ward them off, there must have been too many of them. His frustration grew as well due to his inability to fathom the reasons for such actions by the Baratheons.

All he needed was a plan now. He needed to avenge the death of his family, and more than that, he needed to take the seat at Pyke. The enemies needed to be driven away from the Iron Islands. No one but a Greyjoy must rule the place, and Victarion vowed he would be the one to succeed his brother. Asha might be Balon's daughter, still she was but a woman, and that only left him. He refused to think of the other possibility.

Storm's End

Gendry's hands were still sooty when the servant entered the smithy and told him his Father wanted Gendry to join him for dinner. He cleaned his hands and wiped the sweat from his face, neck and arms with a cloth. He entered the hall and saw his Father sitting beside Lord Stannis. The latter's wife had died a day ago while giving birth to a babe. Gendry's cousin, but he suspected he wouldn't ever be able to call her that.

"Son," Robert called him. "Come sit."

He caught Stannis eyeing him with a frown, but he ignored him, like he always did. His uncle wasn't fond of him at all, and he strongly opposed Robert's decision to declare Gendry as his son to the entirety of the castle. But Stannis never voiced his opinion out loud for too long, and Gendry always felt as if he was being judged at every move by the Lord of Storm's End.

Gendry took his seat, his face as usual revealing nothing about what he was thinking. He didn't dine with his Father regularly, and only when Robert wanted him to. Gendry didn't have a taste for rich foods, but he did appreciate his current station. If he hadn't accepted Robert's offer, he still would have been working in some lesser-known smithy, or worse, been roaming the streets of Flea Bottom.

A grunt caught his ears and he turned, his eyes instantly fixing on the person who entered the hall. The Stark girl was being pushed by a guard, none too gently, towards the table. Her eyes fixed on his for the briefest of seconds and something dark passed over her eyes, her lips instantly twitching. She straightened and glancing at the other two men at the table, took a few steps forward. Gendry noticed her hands weren't tied, but the guard was holding them behind her back. His grip wasn't harsh, but he could see red marks on her exposed wrists. He guessed she got them from struggling too much against her binds during their journey to the Stormlands.

He noticed the change in her clothes. The worn out dress she had been wearing was now replaced by a green one. Her hair had been combed and was now falling in heavy, dark curls around her shoulders. She looked a Lady in every sense of the word, the only exception being the frown on her face and her harsh, cold stare.

Robert smiled at her, and waved the guard to leave. Once her hands were free, she brought them to her front. Gendry noticed her rubbing her wrists lightly, careful not to let anyone notice.

"Please sit, My Lady," Robert said. "You must be hungry. I heard you didn't partake in your breakfast."

"You heard right," she replied calmly. "Although, My Lord, you should be careful about sending knives with the food." She leaned close to him. "It would take one second for me to hid one in my sleeve and another to push it right through your eye. It would be quite a scandal, won't it? Robert Baratheon dead at the hands of a girl. The man who had claimed to defeat Rhaegar Targaryen and take the Iron Throne for himself."

The smile disappeared from Robert's face, and Lady Stark looked pleased.

Suddenly, Robert caught her by the arm and pulled her roughly.

"You know I can kill you right now and no one can do or say anything!"

Gendry saw Stannis rise from the corner of his eye and he too became cautious.

"You would have done that already if you could, My Lord."

"You cunt! I will-"

"Enough!" Stannis roared. He pulled Robert away from her and turned to Gendry. "Take her to her room. I'll tell someone to send the food."

Gendry rose and nodded. He took her hand, careful not to put pressure on her wrists, and pulled her to her room. The girl walked steadily, amused by the angry outburst of his Father. When he reached her room, Gendry pushed her inside, and let go off her hand. Her smile faded and she looked him in the eye. Gendry noticed for the first time the paleness of her skin, and the redness of her lips. Maybe he hadn't looked too closely at her earlier. He knew now why the Prince wanted her. She was quite pretty and-

Stop.

He cleared his throat.

"Do your wrists hurt?" He asked, as stoicly as possible.

Arya narrowed her eyes.

"Even if they do, do you think I'll tell you?"

He huffed in annoyance and turned his back to her.

"Forgive me if I thought you needed help."

"I will rather rot in the Seven hells than take your help, you bastard!" She spat.

Gendry clenched his fist in frustration. He wanted to shake her and tell her that her antics would get her nowhere. They would only result in making his Father mad.

Stubborn girl.

"You are stuck here, whether you like it or not. No one is letting you get out of here. So stop being so bloody reckless about everything."

"I don't need your fucking advice," she said stiffly. "And I am getting out of here. You have no idea what you're messing with, Gendry."

Gendry didn't say anything and left the room quietly. No one had ever uttered his name in so much hatred as she did now, or maybe someone did, but it hadn't ever made him flinch.

Do what you have to do.

He saw the rain fall in heavy and swift droplets outside. A storm was brewing; nothing unusual for this place, but spending most of his life in Flea Bottom, he was still not used to the frequent rain. The clouds hovered dangerously over the horizon, promising continuous rainfall for at least a couple of days more.

Thunder and lightning were the consequences of the actions by which men anger the Gods, his Mother used to say. Gendry didn't believe in Gods and the larger part of the story was nothing but a vague memory now. But he knew that right now, there were more reasons for the Gods to be angry about than he could count on one hand.

King's Landing

Waking up before sunrise had now became a habit for Jon. Arya and he had practiced almost everyday since the night she had told him that she loved him. Arya had improved greatly in sword fighting, although she had been able to defeat him but a few times. Jon tried to let her win some times, but she always seemed to find out everytime he tried to lose.

Jon tried to concentrate at the task at hand, his sword swinging and slashing through thin air. Men started occupying the grounds, the silence shattering and being occupied by talking and laughing.

"Your Highness."

Jon stilled his muscles and turned his eyes to look at the servant bowing before him.

"What?" He asked, his voice low.

"Prince Aegon wants to speak to you. He says it's important. He wants you to meet him near the gardens."

Jon sighed deeply and sheathed his sword.

Aegon was gazing out to the open water when Jon arrived. Jon noticed his somber expression, taking it as a result of the unwanted events.

"Egg?"

Aegon turned, his hair swaying with the wind. His lilac eyes had turned dark purple, something that happened when he thought too hard or was tensed.

Aegon smiled lightly. "Thanks for coming. I thought the matter too sensitive to take the risk of speaking about it while other people were around."

"What is it?" Jon asked, curiosity flooding his mind.

"I am rather surprised you haven't thought of rescuing Arya," Aegon said, suddenly changing the subject. Jon slouched his shoulders.

"I have been making plans. There are some things needed to be done first," Jon replied.

"Forget whatever you've been thinking," he said, waving his hand in the air. "I talked to Varys. We'll send a few men to the Stormlands, preferably disguising as traders. One of them will get inside the castle and make note of the number of men in Robert's army, and if luck in on our side, he can even meet Arya and make sure she's safe."

"So they aren't going to rescue her?" Jon asked, surprised.

"No, not at this time. First, we need to know about the place she's kept in, and then we can attack them."

"I don't trust Varys," Jon said.

"Varys is loyal to me, Jon. He knows the importance of getting Arya back, unlike our Father."

Rhaegar had found it quite dangerous to let anyone go to rescue Arya. He thought it would be too great a risk, and if Robert found out, he might hurt Arya more. He was right in being alert, but some risks are meant to be taken.

"I don't trust him," Jon repeated. "He is more loyal to the King than anyone else."

"Jon, please." Aegon sighed. "This is the only option left. There are but a few men who would keep quiet, and you know Varys can help with that. We cannot let Father hear of this."

Jon clenched his fist.

"I'll go with them," he replied after a while.

"No." Aegon's eyes were hard. "You cannot go."

"What I can't do," Jon said gravely, "is sit here while she is surrounded by our enemies. Right now, the only people I trust for her safety are you and me."

"And I trust Varys," Aegon argued. "Right now, he is the only choice we have and we have to make do with what we got. But I cannot let you go. If they discover you, we will lose the war and more importantly Arya." Aegon held his brother at arm's length. "Don't risk this."

"No one will know, Egg. I will leave unnoticed and-"

"No, Jon!" Aegon almost shouted. "We have to do everything from here. You cannot go."

Jon pressed his fingers on his temple, his lips thinning into a hard line.

"I just want her safe and away from that place. It's all my fault, Aegon. I knew something was not right when I let her go. I felt it in my bones but I still didn't do anything."

"No one could have possibly known," Aegon assured him. "We are all at fault here. Everyone should have been careful. You cannot blame yourself."

Aegon straightened and added, "Once I reach Dragonstone, I'll make further plans. The men will leave tomorrow night, four of them. They have orders to go directly to Dragonstone from Storm's End. I will do everything in my power, Jon. I promise."

"But my hands are tied."

"You can help me." Aegon turned to Jon. "Keep Father distracted and don't let hin dwell too much on me. The lesser he knows of anything, the better."

Jon nodded his head. "Mace Tyrell is leaving for Highgarden," he said.

Aegon raised his eyebrow. "Father let him?" His surprise wasn't as much as Jon had expected. Perhaps Aegon had already accepted their Father's habit of making foolish decisions.

"Margaery and Loras are staying. They may be some kind of leverage Father thinks he has against him. He thinks Lord Tyrell cannot possibly do anything rebellious while his two children are in the Crown's custody."

"I think so as well. Will he dare risk his children? Two of them at that?"

"He actually might not," Jon agreed.

Aegon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I must go and see Sansa," he said. "She was devastated and angry after I told her I'm leaving. We haven't spoken since last evening."

He walked back to the castle, leaving Jon alone to dwell on the facts and circumstances. A rush of air blew away his hair away from his face, humming beside his ears.

Four men. Varys' men.

How could he trust four men he barely knew and let them go to Storm's End and potentially risk Arya's life? If anyone found out they were sent from King's Landing, they would be beheaded immediately and Arya will have to suffer the consequences, being the only important person within the Baratheons' reach.

Jon had never trusted the eunuch, but he had to admit the Master of Whisperers had a strange sense of allegiance to his brother. He was one of the people who want to see Aegon on the Iron Throne even after his absolute rejection of it. It wasn't the main motive for his distrust of Varys, though. Jon would give up any Throne for his brother, but Varys was too cunning a man for him to trust.

But perhaps he needed to have confidence in his brother on this one. He wanted to go, instead of staying here and waiting for someone else to deliver news of her. Maybe he could sneak out without anyone noticing. Aegon would be gone long before the men leave anyway.

I have to do something.

0-0-0-0-0

"Sansa please, just look at me."

She clutched the sheets in her fists, sobbing quietly. Her back was to him and she was sitting in her bed. Aegon stood near the door. She had averted her eyes away as soon as he entered her room; partly because she was still angry with him, and partly because she didn't want him to look at her red and swollen eyes.

"For Gods' sake Sansa, what do you want me to do?"

Another sob escaped her when she opened her mouth to speak.

"You can start by not going anywhere and staying with me," she said, turning her face to him. Aegon's eyes softened when he saw her, and he took a few steps towards her.

"You know I have to," he argued.

"No one can make you do anything, Aegon. If you don't want to go, then don't."

Sansa felt her heart clenched when he stood in front of her and looked at her sadly, his purple eyes darkening.

"I don't want to leave you, but there are things I must do, and I can't do them here."

"So you're willing to leave me all alone here?" Sansa asked stubbornly. Her words weren't justified even to her and her mind wasn't working properly.

"Look, Sansa." Aegon took a seat beside her and tilted her chin up using his forefinger. Sansa looked at him, barely keeping herself from crying all over again.

"I have to go to Dragonstone. I have made some plans to rescue Arya. I have to leave to be able to put them into action," he added.

"So you care more about Arya than me?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and her eyes immediately widened, realizing what she had just said about her sister. The sister she loved and the sister who was in so much danger right now.

Aegon stilled and narrowed his eyes at her.

"What are you saying? Are yo-"

Sansa crushed herself onto his chest, cutting his words off midway. Her resolve broke and she cried freely. She felt Aegon's hand on her back and his breath against her temple.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do. Please, don't leave me alone here. Arya's gone and now you will be gone too."

"No." He leaned back and held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. Her blood felt warm just from his touch. She didn't know how she could stand to be so many miles away from him.

"You are not alone, Sansa. Jon is here, Queen Lyanna is here, and soon your Father will be here too. You won't be alone."

"But I will be lonely," she stated. Her hand reached out to touch his face, her fingers tracing his jaw, his cheeks, his lips. "I am going to miss you so much."

"Every moment of every day, I'll miss you," he said.

Sansa pressed her lips to his, her arms wrapping around his torso in a tight embrace. She would miss that too, she realized. Holding him and kissing him and making love to him.

Aegon pushed her back onto the bed, and kept kissing her, his hands pushing her hair away from her face.

Sansa closed her eyes shut as Aegon softly kissed her brow and then bringing his head downwards, dipped it in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. His arms reached back and started undoing the laces of her dress.

"Aegon," she purred, arching her back and giving him access to take the dress off her. Aegon complied swiftly, his fingers making quick work of sliding the garment away from her shoulders. Her hand traced every part of his body, scared by the thought that she would forget how he felt beneath her fingers. Both of them were lost in caresses and kisses and moans and whispered consolations. Her tears may have stopped spilling but Sansa felt how heavy her heart was. She would be a fool not to notice that Aegon was feeling the same, but he seemed to be hiding it well.

By the time both of them were naked, the room was bright with the warm hues of the afternoon. They had never made love during the day. Their escapades were always in the night, when most of the castle was asleep and they could sneak anywhere without anyone noticing. The only light around them had been that of the candles, but now they were bathed in the afternoon glow, both of their eyes shining and glistening, reflecting the love that was so great that it couldn't be expressed just with their words.

Aegon pushed himself inside her, his eyes shutting close and his lips parting to breathe harshly. He whispered her name softly and pulled her to crash against his chest, denying even the air to come between them.

Sansa whimpered in pleasure, her legs around his waist urging him to go deeper inside her.

"Look at me," Aegon breathed raspily. "Open your eyes."

Sansa struggled, but kept her eyes fixed on him. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around her harshly and he groaned, pushing his tongue inside her mouth. Sansa reached her peak, her whole body arching and her cry was swallowed by Aegon's mouth. Her high triggered his, and his body stilled as his seed entered her body. Both of them fell back on the bed with a thud, their breathing loud and urgent.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, kissing her earlobe.

Sansa barely had the energy to breathe, but she panted out softly,

"I-I love y-you, Aegon. Come back to me. P-Please."

"I will, sweet one," he promised her. "Where else can I go but come home to you?"

"I love you," she said again, her words this time more coherent.

Aegon kissed her lips again, then pulled the covers over them. Sansa didn't let go of his arm. She wanted him to stay, and she didn't have to ask. As if reading her mind, he placed himself behind her, his body spooning hers.

"Can I stay?" He asked against her neck.

"You don't have to ask," she whispered. Her fingers entwined with his which were placed over her stomach. Sansa pressed her body back against him, feeling his warmth. She felt like crying again, but kept the tears at bay. She just wanted to remember this moment like this, wrapped up in his arms, instead of the memory being blurred by tears.

They stayed like that most of the day, until they knew they couldn't anymore. He left her arms reluctantly, and kissed her again, the last one most likely till he returned.

The next day he was gone even before she woke up in the morning, and Sansa had never felt as alone in her life as she did then.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

The rapid journey South had made his physique weary, but Ned had no desire to rest. The consuming regret in his heart for letting his daughters stay at King's Landing alone had been easily veiled by the sheer anger he felt towards his brother by law. Never had Ned experienced such anger, and especially never before for the King. Rhaegar had his faults but until his daughter's abduction, each one of them he could oversee, but he would not ever forgive the King for getting his daughter in danger, not even if he wasn't guilty of it.

The horses neighed loudly. The poor beasts had been treated harshly. He had made the journey in such a hurry that there was little time for anyone to rest. His men were strong however, and they heeded their Lord's orders respectfully.

Winterfell loved Arya Stark. She spent most of her time outdoors than indoors, making the most unusual friends. She sneaked food to the hungry, knew most of the men and women by their names and there was not one who had ever said a word against her. The people always hid her exploits, her mischiefs, even from the Lord and Lady Stark. Ned admired it profoundly: his daughter's ability to generate such loyalty among the people she knew.

The King and the Prince were among the few who met him at the gates. As Ned approached them, he noticed the tension had taken its toll on Rhaegar. His usual countenance was gone and its place had been taken by a face as grim and stern as a ruler whose crown was too heavy for him to bear.

"Lord Stark, welcome to King's Landing."

Jon stood beside his Father. He was almost of the same height as the King now. He looked much older than the last time Ned had seen him, and it hadn't even been a year.

"Your Grace." He turned to his nephew, his eyes softening for a brief second. "Your Highness."

"Just Jon, please, Uncle," Jon said. "I hope you had a safe journey."

"I did, son."

"You are certainly tired, My Lord," the King added. "Your horses will be tended to and your men will be shown to their quarters. If you want to take rest for a while, you will be escorted to your room."

Ned clenched his jaw. There was no time for civilities anymore. Time had been wasted as much already.

"If you wouldn't mind, Your Grace, I would like to speak with you in private. But I'll appreciate respite for my company."

The men dispersed as the only ones left were him, the royals and the Hand of the King, Jon Connington. From the corner of his eye, Ned noticed the forms of two women and his heart swelled with joy.

Lya. Sansa.

The girl crashed into his chest and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug, all the while he could feel her shaking in his arms with her sobs.

"It's alright, sweetling. I'm here now," he assured her.

"I've missed you so much, Father," Sansa sobbed. She finally composed herself, taking her handkerchief out and wiping her tears. Ned noticed a nod pass between Sansa and Jon. Their betrothal had been pushed away from his mind for the moment, but Ned mentally reminded himself to talk about it to both of them later.

Lya was the next to embrace him.

"I'm glad you're here, Ned," she whispered in his ear. She pulled back from his arms and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

He had been directly led to Rhaegar's study, the place where it had all started. It was where he had agreed to let Arya stay. She had shouted at him fiercely for doing that to her.

To think I'm partly responsible for everything that is happening to her.

"Would you like wine, Ned?" The King, not addressing him formally for the first time since he had arrived.

"You promised you would keep her safe, Your Grace," Ned spoke, ignoring his question.

"I am sorry for everything, Ned. I am trying my best to mend things."

"They are beyond mending," Ned said. "Why haven't you sent help for her? You told me you're doing your best."

"I am. But things are not as easy as they seem. I care for Arya, I truly do. But if we do anything rash, he will hurt your daughter."

Ned wanted to say that was not true, that Robert couldn't hurt a little girl. But he couldn't. He couldn't claim to know this man. This man, lost to him and the world for years, only to rise again and try to hurt his family.

"I didn't know he was alive," Ned acknowledged.

"Neither did I. I thought he had perished somewhere, but here he is again, rising against me."

"All of us," Ned corrected him. "He made an enemy of me when he took my daughter."

Dragonstone

Aegon sat down urgently. Varys had accompanied him to Dragonstone, then disappeared for a few days. Now he was back, carrying news that according to him, was more important than the letters Aegon had been busy writing when he arrived.

The eunuch bowed and Aegon told him to take a seat.

"I apologize for taking so long to bring this news, but someone had taken great care to delay my plans. My little birds took more time than was expected."

"Lord Varys, I do like your riddles, but this may not be the best time."

Varys took a deep breath and looked Aegon in the eye.

"The ones who poisoned Prince Jon have been identified, Your Highness," the man spoke, his voice smooth but firm. "It is the Tyrells."

Aegon stood up abruptly, his voice thickening and a sick feeling pooling in his gut.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure. It was a rare poison from Lys. The Tyrells had it smuggled to King's Landing with the help of a man. The said man had his skull bashed the day after the poisoning."

"Then how do you know it?"

"The poison is very, very rare, Your Highness," Varys repeated. "Once I had it identified, my spies did the rest."

Varys was reluctant to share more information, and Aegon didn't ask for it. He was more confused than anything else.

"They didn't want to kill him at all," Aegon realized. "Or else they would have made sure of something as important as the quantity."

"I think it is quite obvious now why the Prince was poisoned in the first place."

"It is," Aegon agreed. From the beginning, the plan was to take Arya. Margaery was cunning and clever, and she must have figured out the affections Jon and Arya had for each other.

"Riverrun and the North would never fight and put her at risk," Aegon voiced out loud. That was two pieces out of the game.

"Thank you for the information, Lord Varys," Aegon said. "If you don't mind, I would like to be alone. There is much to do. Have you told Father?"

"News has been sent."

Aegon nodded and when Varys had left him alone to muse on his thoughts, all he could think about was whether Mace Tyrell was foolish enough to leave his two children in their enemy's lair or was it part of some other, bigger plan?

He wanted to write to his Father urging him to show no mercy to Margaery and Loras, but his instincts stopped him. He was not one who believed in children paying for their parents' crimes. Both of them may not be innocent, and that will be another matter, but for now he had to trust his Father's judgement on this. He only hoped Jon would keep his composure, because if the Tyrells were involved in poisoning Jon, they would definitely be involved in the kidnapping of Arya, and that was enough reason to send Jon into a fit of rage.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he turned, remembering that he had demanded not to be disturbed.

"I apologize for ignoring your request, Prince Aegon. A raven has arrived from Casterly Rock, and I thought it might be of importance."

Aegon nodded.

Why were the Lannisters writing to him and not to his Father?

He unrolled the scroll and his eyes quickly searched for the name of the sender. It was written in a fine handwriting. The name aggravated his curiosity as to the contents of the letter.

Jaime Lannister.

Storm's End

Why are they giving me all these?

She looked at the numerous dresses on her bed. Gowns and shifts of silk. The clothes were all finery. When she took the soft material between her thumb and forefinger, she recognized them as the kind of clothes Sansa wore during her stay in King's Landing; the kind she had worn that day at the feast.

I am not their guest.

Even though Arya hadn't ever given much thought to what happened to hostages, it was fairly certain they weren't allowed to live so luxuriously. Captors didn't provide their captives with rich, embroidered gowns.

Was all of this a trick?

Her mind had grown more cautious every second she spent here. She knew they had motives she wasn't able to fathom. She would never partake in the hospitality of these men. It would be like stepping on and choking her self-respect and pride.

She decided to wait patiently till the evening to do what she wanted to do. But patience was never one of Arya Stark's strong traits, and she found herself pacing frantically around the room when she saw the sky darken outside her window. A flash of lightning waved its way through the clouds and she scoffed.

Storms, and storms, and nothing else.

A woman finally entered her room, and Arya couldn't help the small smirk from etching itself on her face. The woman was long faced, her face starting to show wrinkles and her hair beginning to thin. She started lighting the candles one by one until the place was covered in luminiscent glow. The flames danced when wind started to rush in through the window.

The woman hastily closed it.

When she left, Arya started her work. She may not be able to escape from here, but she would make sure that the Baratheons knew exactly who they were messing with. She would not let them have a moment's peace while she was awake.

She piled the clothes upon the bed. Making sure she had locked the door and the windows, she went to the bedside table and brought a candle.

"So much for silk," she said to herself amusingly.

The flame took a while to truly set ablaze, but when it did, it devoured the clothes one after another. The smoke started to bellow, and Arya covered her mouth and nose with the hem of her dress. She stood there, waiting for the fire to burn bright and strong, and when the curtains and the featherbed started catching fire, Arya slipped out of her room. The guard looked at her strangely and seemed to catch the burning smell. His eyes suddenly widened.

"My thank you for the clothes," Arya said, winking.

The next few minutes were frantic, as more guards started to occupy the corridor. Arya simply leaned back against the wall, her eyes taking in all the chaos. Amidst the flurry of guards and servants alike, she saw him, wide eyed, horror-stricken and she was sure she hadn't grinned like that since she entered this hell.

"What did you think you were doing?"

She turned to look at the owner of the furious voice.

"If you are trying to frighten me with that voice, it is really not working."

"What have you done? Are you mad?" Gendry growled.

"I am completely sane, My Lord," she said mockingly.

A couple of men passed them, hurrying to extinguish the fire. The smoke was soaring high like a giant with wings.

"One day," she began, looking at the man beside her with steel, grey eyes. "I'm going to sink my fangs into your necks and rip out every one of your throats. Don't ever try to play tricks on me again."

Gendry met her eyes with a stare of his own, but she would not cower. His bright blue eyes stayed stuck on her own.

He left her eventually, but returned a few minutes later with a woman. The woman looked at her, at the burning room, then back at Arya, and she could swear there was a hint of a smile on her thin lips.

"Please follow me, My Lady," the woman said. Arya walked beside her. She was disappointed; she had wanted Robert to lose his temper like he did that time, but it looked like she wouldn't be a spectator to that. She heard another pair of footsteps behind her, and turned around to see Gendry following them. Was he thinking she was going to try to escape?

She was led to another room, this one larger than the one she had just burned.

"Don't try anything stupid again," she heard the gruff voice of Gendry behind her. She didn't turn. "I sleep three rooms away."

Arya chuckled.

You think you frighten me.

"If I set fire to this room, I'll make sure you're inside," she said.

She heard nothing for a few seconds, then the sound of footsteps, then the loud band of the door behind her.

Arya straightened her dress with a sigh. Her hair was in tangles so she started to run her fingers through it when she heard the door click.

Annoyed, she turned her head to mutter curses at the one who had entered, but all she saw was a person dressed in black, his face covered in a hood. The man stepped forward, and Arya started reaching for something, anything near her, frantically.

His face was still hidden when he pushed his hand inside the sleeve of his other hand and pulled out a piece of paper.

"My Lady, there's no time," he breathed out. "I must go."

He handed her the tiny scroll and Arya clutched it in her palm when the door opened again.

"Who are you?" A voice asked. The man looked pushed his hood back and looked her in the eye. His hand went to his waist and he pulled out his sword. The guard who had entered unsheathed his and a battle started right before her eyes. Arya took the moment to drop the scroll to the ground and kicked it under the bed.

In a matter of seconds, two guards joined him against the man. The man fought as hard as he could, but in the end, a sword pushed through his abdomen. Blood spilled out of his mouth, his stomach, as he crouched down to his knees.

"Who sent you?" A guard asked. Arya noticed Robert enter the room from the corner of her eye.

"S-Stay safe, Lady A-Arya," the man muttered, as his eyes stilled and life drained out of him.

Robert pushed through them all, his eyes staring right at her.

"Take him away," he ordered the guards.

When they were alone, Robert grasped her shoulders in his hands.

"Who was he and what was he doing here?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," she spat.

His palm hit her cheek roughly. Arya braced herself and stood tall, her face as determined as ever. She tasted blood on her tongue.

"You will tell me what I want to know, or I'll make you!"

"I won't."

Robert glared at her and holding her neck in his hands, thrashed her head against the wall. She felt a mind-numbing pain in the back of her head, but kept quiet.

He stepped away from her and stormed out.

"Lock the door," he shouted to the guard outside. The guard obeyed, and Arya found herself alone again. Her head hurt, but she had a more important thing to do. She kneeled and reached under the bed, until her fingers hit the scroll. She took her seat on the floor and opened it, kneeling back against the bed. She wiped the blood from her chin with the back of her hand.

Tears burst forth when she saw it. She brought the paper to her lips and then started reading it. A spot of blood had spread on the middle of it.

My love,

I am sorry I cannot come to you now. But I will soon, I promise. I will bring you back to me. I will make everyone pay for your suffering, for every drop of tear you shed.

Be brave, my love. Be strong as you are and always have been. I will not rest until I have you with me again, I swear it.

I love you. Wait for me.

Jon.

She cried unabashedly, the levee breaking and the grief coming out of her. She missed him so much, the thought of him made her cry harder. She held the letter tight against her chest, trying to imagine she was holding him instead.

I love you, so much. I love you.

Chapter Text

Storm's End

"Milord?"

The girl stilled beneath him, her almond eyes staring at him with surprise. Her hair was fanned out on his pillow, and she looked beautiful but something was wrong and he knew it, and he knew she knew it too. Gendry's hands were well under her smallclothes by now and he was pressing her into the featherbed.

"Should I pleasure you instead, Milord?" The girl asked sheepishly, her hand sliding down between them to touch his manhood. He groaned.

She gasped when Gendry held her wrist and stared at her. After a few seconds, he shook his head then started pulling his breeches up.

"I'm not in the mood. Leave," he ordered. The girl nodded and starting pulling her clothes on reluctantly. Her eyes moved to him momentarily to see if he had changed his mind. He was acting harsh, but he just wasn't able to do this tonight. She bowed and left as silently as she had come.

Gendry pulled his tunic on and buttoned it slowly. He grabbed the flagon of wine. The liquid was bitter on his tongue, but strong, and that was all he needed. He gulped a few times but he was far from feeling dizzy, so he opened the door and stepped outside his room. Sleep was evading him. He was used to sleeping heavily at night, and hated to stay awake after nightfall.

The guards were on their duty, but he dismissed them. He was not a Lord. Just because he was called one, didn't make him one. And these guards were once far above him, and he knew he shouldn't feel guilty still after so many months but he did. He refused guards as much as he could, but for security, his Father sometimes forced him to keep them.

He stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on a few people. They were in front of the Stark girl's door. She was there too, saying something to - or rather shouting at - the guards.

He sighed and approached closer, until he was at hearing range.

"My Lady, we have been ordered not to let you leave," one guard was saying. He sounded frustrated.

"I'm not going anywhere! I just need to be out of this room or else I'll suffocate! And you wouldn't want me to die on your watch, would you now?"

"My Lady, we cannot let you go."

"But, I-"

She stopped when she saw him.

The guards straightened and he was surprised to see that she was in a dress. Her hair was loose. Though it was almost the middle of the night, she looked far from being sleepy.

"Let her be," he said, without taking his eyes off her. "I will keep an eye on her."

"I don't need your favour," she said quickly.

"No, you don't. But you better accept it or you won't get another one anytime soon."

Arya bit her lip and frowned.

"Fine," she muttered.

He followed her, watching her walking towards a balcony. He was trying not to pay too much attention to the swaying of her hips, but he couldn't and he blamed the wine, although he could swear it wasn't affecting him minutes ago. They stopped and he looked out of the castle. The night sky was clear. It was a rare sight but a pleasing one. He looked at the moon then at Arya. He noticed she was looking at it too.

"Don't get too close, My Lady," he said, as she leaned to look over the balcony. The air around them was warm and a drop of sweat trickled down his neck. He wiped it away with his finger.

"Don't call me that."

"But you are one, so why shouldn't I call you that?"

He heard her snort. A conversation between them would be disastrous, he knew it.

"You were born in a castle. Didn't make you anything like a Lord."

He wondered if she was always this eager to get in a verbal fight with everyone. She had barely smiled since he saw her and he couldn't blame her but maybe it would do her some good.

He didn't think he was obliged to give her any explanation or that her opinion of him mattered at all, but the words fell from his lips anyway.

"I wasn't born in a castle. I was born in Flea Bottom. I didn't even know who my Father was until a few months ago."

Arya Stark was the last person in the world he wanted pity from. But this wasn't for pity as far as he knew.

She turned sideways to look at him with equal amount of surprise and amusement.

"So what," she asked, "your greed for power and riches made you seek out your Father? You looked at Lords and wished you could live like them in lavish castles and have more coin with you than you could count."

He flushed in anger. "You are a daughter of a Lord, aren't you? Yet you do not want the status you were born into. I didn't want to live my entire life as a blacksmith. Maybe we are not so different after all."

"I do not kidnap people!" She shouted, now turning to face him fully.

He stepped close to her and held her shoulders and shook her, and she glared at him like a predator ready to strike. Her eyes turned to slits of grey. He was taking in a lot of details about her tonight, he realized.

"I did not choose to bring you! I did not even know you!"

"If you are so guiltless, then let me go! Your Father is going to kill me once he thinks I'm of no use anymore. If you are any better than Robert then let me go."

His grip tightened on her shoulders and he felt his anger rising. So, this was it. She was hoping he would help her escape if he felt guilty enough.

She is never going to accept she is stuck here, is she?

She wanted to weaken him, but he wouldn't be manipulated by someone like her.

"Is this what it is?" He leaned closer to her so his face was inches away from hers. "You think a few words are able to make me betray my Father? You think you hold any power over me?"

Her cheeks were flushed, and she didn't say anything back to him since the first time he had spoken to her. She only stared at him and he desperately wanted to make her look away. Her gaze unnerved him.

He looked at her lips and kissed her forcefully. Arya's arms came to push at his chest instantly as she thrashed in his arms. She was panicking and hitting hin hard while he kept on kissing her. He realized he didn't want her to hate him. She drove him mad with rage everytime they spoke, but he couldn't stop the kiss. He was pressing his lips on her and she was refusing to open hers. They were sealed shut and he couldn't force her to part them.

Suddenly, her knee met with his thigh and he groaned at the sudden hit. Arya took the opportunity to back away from him. She was breathing harshly.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

He heard footsteps and saw the guards approach them. They looked at both of them quizzically and got out of Arya's way when she stormed away back towards her room without another word.

"Are you alright, My Lord?" One of them asked and he sounded accusing. There was no concern in his voice for him and he only seemed to ask the question out of duty. The words she had shouted had possibly given them an idea of what had happened.

He nodded.

He cursed aloud. The wine was to be blamed for everything. He had told her much more than he wanted to, and he shouldn't have done what he did. He disgusted her, and he was sure of it now. She had pushed him away and even when he was sure he held no affection for her, it still hurt. This was different. He hadn't wanted to fuck her. He just wanted the kiss, and little else, and it made him uneasy. He could deal with lust. He could bring a girl to his bed who looked like her and he could fuck her hard and forget about it the next morning. But other things he would not allow. Not with this girl. Not with this girl of all.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

Ned smiled as his sister entered his chamber. He felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, but having Lyanna near always made him happy. She didn't take a seat near him, but instead arched a brow at him and he made room for her beside him on the couch. She sat down and wrapped her hand around his arm, resting her head on his shoulder.

"If things were different than they are, I would thank the Gods for your stay."

"You know I miss you everyday, Lya, but my duties keep me at Winterfell."

"I understand," she whispered. "I want to go back, you know. I don't want to leave Rhaegar or Jon or Egg, but I miss the cold and the furs and the Wolfswood. Winterfell was my home."

"It still is," he assured her. "The gates of the North are always open to you."

She nodded.

Ned pressed a kiss on her hair and dropped his head softly on hers. She was one of the few people who knew him inside out, and he knew her no less.

"I'm scared for the children, Lya," he confessed after a brief moment of silence. "War is a nasty affair. Last time it tore our family apart. I don't want my children or yours to suffer like we did."

"The pack survives, Ned," Lyanna murmured. She looked up at him. "The pack always survives."

"But at what cost?"

Lyanna remained silent. Ned thought of Brandon, his brother and the true heir of Winterfell and the North. Ned was the younger brother, he was supposed to squire for someone and maybe one day become a Knight. But here he was, the Warden of the North, his sister the Queen, Benjen at the Wall and Brandon and his Father dead. Only when he was with Lyanna did he let himself remember and ponder over the memories, knowing fully well that even if he showed his weakest side to her, she would not judge. That she knew him, perhaps even better than Catelyn did.

"I am worried about him, Ned." Lyanna pulled him out of his thoughts with her voice. She pulled herself away from him and sat with her hands on her lap, looking at him with eyes filled with confusion.

"Rhaegar is determined," she added. "He wants to protect his family and his biggest weakness is his inclination to believe in prophecies. It is tearing my family apart. Aegon has left and Jon is... he is too angry these days that he could do nothing about what has happened. Rhaegar is doing what he thinks is right, but I wonder if it is."

Ned wanted to declare Rhaegar a fool, but it would be unfair to his sister. She loved her husband, and making her sad was the last thing he wanted, so he kept himself from saying what he wanted to.

"Aegon is in Dragonstone?" He asked to confirm. He had heard but he didn't know for sure.

Lyanna nodded. "Rhaegar sent him. He rode away angry at his Father. Aegon is usually understanding but Rhaegar made him leave when he didn't want to."

"And Jon?"

Lyanna was hesitating, he could see it in the tremble of her lips. He knew her too well for her to hide such basic behaviours from him.

"He is angry," she said simply.

"Because Aegon is gone?" Ned asked.

She put her hand over his and squeezed, and answered softly,

"Because she is."

"She? Who-"

He stopped halfway, something clicking inside his mind.

Because she is gone...

He remembered asking Sansa about her relationship with Jon and her trying her best to avoid the topic. He remembered Jon looking sad and tired at the very mention of Arya's name.

He looked at Lyanna.

"Arya?"

Lyanna sighed.

"We were wrong, Ned. We were wrong in making decisions for them. They are not kids anymore, and they have made their own choices."

Ned stood up in astonishment.

"Impossible!" Lyanna didn't say anything. "Seven hells, it cannot be!"

He paced to the far end of the room and back.

"How did this happen?" He asked her, regaining a bit of his composure.

"I don't think even they know that answer, but as far as I know they are in love. Jon loves Arya and she loves him back."

Ned clenched his jaw and suddenly thought of all the letters Arya had written to him.

Nothing.

She had hidden it, and exceptionally so. Jon was barely mentioned in her letters, and Ned had guessed it was because Jon was spending more time with Sansa than with her. He couldn't have ever imagined...

"How long has it been?"

"I learned of it four moons ago," she answered.

Arya was in love. His wild little daughter who rode horses faster than any man in Winterfell, who stole her brothers' breeches and wore them, who was so dirty some days no one could recognize her face. She was in love and she had not said a word about it to her family for more than four moons.

It was shocking more than anything else, and he asked himself how could he not consider that she was growing up. She was almost sixteen, and it was not surprising. But Jon of all people.

"Sansa," he remembered suddenly. "Does she know?"

"She does, and I don't think she minds."

Lyanna told him about her and Aegon, and Ned was so bewildered it was hard to stand on his feet. Things were nothing as he had hoped for them to be. Sansa was supposed to be the one for Jon, but instead it was Arya, probably the only girl in Westeros who hated the mere thought of being a Queen.

"They grew up," he said aloud.

Lyanna was in front of him and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"It was going to happen anyway. We cannot possibly change fate."

Ned stood still for a while then looked at her.

"I want to speak to Jon," he said.

Lyanna nodded.

"I'll send him."

She pressed a kiss to his left cheek, opened the door and walked out of his room.

0-0-0-0-0

Ned looked at Jon properly when he sat in front of him. For the first time, he realized his nephew not only looked like him, he also looked strikingly like Arya. The eyes, the hair, the long face; they were almost mirror images of each other. Ned had not taken in the details before. But now he realized how much Jon was like his Father, how much Arya had always been like Lyanna and he mentally cursed himself for not thinking of the possibility even once.

"Why didn't any of you write to me about it?" He asked.

"Arya...," he replied. "She wanted to tell you herself. Sansa and my betrothal was not officially called off. They had decided to tell you together after it did."

"Did it?"

"Not yet," Jon said slowly. He looked at Ned and added with determination, "I love her. I know things weren't thus planned but I cannot feel sorry for things turning out like this. I am in love with Arya, and I want no one else but her."

"A betrothal is a sacred and solemn vow made before the Gods. I do not believe any man has power to take it back." Ned took one look at Jon and he knew that no matter what he said, Jon will not listen. It relieved him. "But a marriage is not valid without love. If it is the wish of my children, I have no objection against calling it off."

He would have done something about it, if it was Sansa's heart on the line. But it wasn't, and if his daughters were happy choosing, he knew he owed them that. He would never force Arya or Sansa to do anything.

He couldn't live with the blame of breaking four hearts at once. Them being happy was all that mattered, even if it meant going against his ideals for once.

Dorne

Arianne drew her eyes from the cyvasse board towards where her Father was sitting. Doran was looking out languidly at the Water Gardens when Arianne saw the Maester appear and bow, landing a scroll in Doran's hands.

"Your turn," Oberyn called out. She broke her eyes away from her Father and tried to concentrate in the game as she moved her piece forward, but alas, her interest was lost. Her mind, curious ever, started wandering to the scroll and her heart leapt up thinking it was fron Robb.

But Doran didn't call her name and she was sure it wasn't addressed to her. She doubted though that Robb would send a letter for her through her Father. As brave as Robb Stark was while wielding a sword, he was but an amateur in the matters of the heart and Arianne didn't think he would be bold enough to let her Father read his letters to her.

"Hoping it's from Robb Stark?" Oberyn asked her, as if reading her thoughts. The man's smirk grew at her frown. "It will be quite a scandal if Doran ends up reading your lover's words of passion for you, dear niece. Snatch it from his hands while you can."

Arianne narrowed her eyes at her Uncle, and stood up, ignoring the game in front of her.

Doran caught her eye and when she was close, handed her two scrolls instead of one.

"One is from Winterfell. The other is from Dragonstone, from your cousin Aegon."

Arianne took the one with the direwolf sigil and opened it to read a formal letter in Robb's hand to her Father, saying he had reached Winterfell safely. Mayhaps she would have to wait some time for a more private letter.

"How is my dear nephew?" Oberyn's voice shot through her thoughts and she turned her attention to the other scroll in her Father's hands.

"You can ask him yourself," Doran said, turning his eyes to his brother. "Aegon is coming to Dorne for what he writes is a crucial matter."

It had been years since Arianne had last seen her cousin. They had never been close but there was mutual respect on each side. Her other cousins though, the Sand Snakes, were terribly fond of Aegon, especially Nym and Tyene. Arianne was better friends with Jon, but like her and Aegon, it had been years since they had met.

Arianne was happy Aegon was visiting. With all of the conflicts in the kingdoms, it was hard to guess what this crucial matter of him really was. She would just have to wait.

Her Uncle nudged her and challenged her to another round of cyvasse, but Arianne's mind was completely off it now, so she rejected despite Oberyn promising her a dozen dragons if she won.

King's Landing

Jon glanced around the Council room. His Father sat at the head of the table of the Small Council, and Jon was to his right. Connington, Ned Stark and Varys were also present. Mace Tyrell's seat was vacant and so was Aegon's. Two of the Kingsguard stood behind the King.

"Lord Varys has brought some news," his Father began, then took a deep breath. "The Tyrells were behind Jon's poisoning."

Jon took note of the shock on Connington and Ned Stark's face, but on his part, he wasn't too surprised. Perhaps he had anticipated it. Aegon's distrust of the Tyrells might have rubbed off on him in some way.

His Father spoke again, his voice echoing through the Hall.

"I declare House Tyrell of Highgarden traitors against the Crown. They have conspired against the Crown and are aiding Robert and Stannis Baratheon in their treasonous acts against the Throne. I have information they were involved in Lady's Arya's kidnapping."

Jon saw Ned clench his knuckles. His voice though, was ever calm as he spoke, not conveying any of his true feelings on the matter. Jon knew his rage surpassed even his own.

"Your Grace," Lord Stark said. "Lady Margaery and Lord Loras still reside in the castle. Do you plan to imprison them?"

"No, My Lord, they will not be treated cruelly. For all we know, they might not have know about their Father's treasonous acts."

Jon wanted to watch Margaery and Loras suffer if they had a hand in it, but he wouldn't deny that if they were not guilty, it would be an dishonourable deed on their part. For the first time in months, he agreed with his father on something.

When the table went silent, Jon turned his eyes to his Uncle and nodded in his direction. His father was just about to speak when Jon cleared his throat.

"Father, if I may," he began. "Lord Stark and I have decided to send an emissary to Storm's End."

"I do not believe a peace treaty will do any good, My Lord," Rhaegar said, addressing Lord Stark.

"Not a peace treaty, Your Grace," Ned replied.

"A hostage swap," Jon finished his words. "Lord Loras and Lady Margaery in exchange for Lady Arya."

Rhaegar didn't accept the proposal immediately but Jon knew he was not in a state to refuse, not with Ned Stark sitting near him. It would not be taken well. Hardly any result had come out of all his claims that he was trying his best.

"Fine," he agreed finally, looking at Jon. "We will need someone willing to go."

"I'll go," Jon volunteered immediately.

All heads turned his way but he kept his eyes still on the King.

"No," Rhaegar said sternly, with a warning tone. "I will not put your life at risk. There are other men better suited for this task."

"I have to go!" Jon persisted, fists slamming against the table as he stood up.

"Enough, Jon!"

"Your Highness," Ned called, surprising him. He turned to look at him. "The King speaks wisely. It might not be the best idea."

Jon stared at him in surprise. Of all the people, Ned was the last person he expected would dissuade him.

"But Lord Stark, I-"

"That will be all for today," Rhaegar's voice echoed throughout the room cutting him off with a commanding tone. As he left with Connington in tow, he shot a condescending look at Jon that revealed how angry he was at Jon.

But Jon had expected this behaviour from his Father. What he had not expected was Lord Stark's answer. He was so sure he would let him go get Arya back.

As they exited the Hall, Ned placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I know you think I'm being unfair, son, but as much as in danger Arya is, I cannot willingly agree to send you on a mission this dangerous."

Jon shook his head. Everyone was worried for him when they should be more worried for her. For once, why couldn't they let him be and do as he wished? They were trying to protect him but all it was doing was keeping her from him.

"You think my life is more important than hers?"

He felt miserable. He thought about Arya; her hair, her eyes, her laugh. Jon knew her to be many things but never patient.

Are you thinking I've given up on you?

"It's not like that, Jon. "

Ned patted his back, and Jon felt like a child being coaxed into doing something he was against. He felt like a helpless pawn in his Father's hands, unable to do any thing he wished and just forced to listen and agree.

That would not do.

You need to listen, Father.

And Jon knew exactly how to make him.

Chapter Text

King's Landing

"I want you to do something for me."

He was speaking to her for the first time. He had barely looked at the witch ever since she had entered the castle, and he would have lived his life with the pleasure of not knowing her at all. But desperate times demanded desperate measures, and he was willing to do anything to reach his goal. This was a small price to pay.

A sly smiled spread on her lips. She inched closer to Jon, holding her head high. Jon felt a warmth tingle his skin and he started to grow uneasy in her presence.

"I take no orders from you, Your Highness," she said, her eyes studying him with unveiled curiosity.

Jon narrowed his eyes at her.

"If you take orders from my Father, you will take them from me as well," he commanded.

"I only act according to My Lord R'hllor's wishes. My God shows me my path, no one else."

"No." His voice was high and domineering. "You will do as I say. You will tell my Father that it is necessary for me to go to Arya. You will tell him, and you will make him listen to you."

Melisandre didn't heed.

"I told you, My Prince, only the Lord of Light commands me."

Jon huffed in annoyance. He was in no mood to negotiate with a fanatic. It was torture just to speak to her knowing she was the root of all his damnable problems.

"So, your Lord wants you to play matchmaker?" He mocked.

"Dire threats surround your House. It is my Lord's command that I convince you to do what's right and what you must. Targaryens are the rightful House to sit on the Throne, and the Lord will not allow a godless man to usurp it."

Jon was getting impatient. He couldn't stand still listening to this while there was still much important things to do. Time was not on his side, and wasting it on a fanatic was absurd.

"I don't want to know what your Lord wants. I demand you to help me or I'll throw you out of this castle."

"The King will not let me leave," she replied confidently.

She was right. Rhaegar wouldn't let her leave when he believed in her words so blindly. Jon clenched his fists. All his doors were closing. He had to do something.

"If you do not believe me, let me show you," she said, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She reached out to him with her hand, offering him to take it.

Jon didn't.

"The girl you pine for. I can show her to you."

Jon sucked in a breath, his heart clenching. He so desperately wanted to see her. More than anything else. But it couldn't be possible.

"I don't believe you," he said in a whisper.

She took a few steps towards him.

"Let me make you," she offered, and slowly slid her hand along Jon's. He didn't pull it away, instead he let him take it in her hand and grasp it. Her skin was warm to his touch, and it almost felt like she was burning.

She pulled him towards the hearth and brought their joined hands closer to the raging fire. She chanted softly as the flames rose wildly and engulfed their hands. Jon felt the stinging heat seeping into his skin, sweat pooling on his brow and he was a second from pulling away when she whispered softly,

"Close your eyes, Jon."

Jon gasped. It was her voice. He stared at the Priestess unbelievably.

Arya...

It cannot be.

"Close your eyes," she said again, but this time it was just the witch's voice.

I must have imagined it, he thought.

Jon closed his eyes shut, hoping that if the Gods truly existed, they show him her. He wouldn't mind being wrong this once, if only he got to see her beautiful face again.

Melisandre was chanting, some words louder than the others. He couldn't understand anything and he felt like one of the fools who believed in such things, people he used to laugh at and mock.

If Egg could see me now, he would laugh at my stupidity.

Suddenly, a cold rush of air brushed past him, his sweat cooling on his skin. His mind was flashing images of snow and cold, barren wilderness, trees with carved faces, tears as red as blood dripping down their eyes. Sounds of wolf howls rang in his ears, as clear as if he was standing amidst them, and he recognized the trees and the snow. He knew what this place was. He had a vague memory of the place from years ago.

The North.

A Godswood...

The next thing he saw after a moment of blurriness was a girl standing on the balcony of a castle, her hair flowing wildly around her, and once he saw her eyes, his grip tightened on the witch's hand.

Eyes as grey as storm clouds and hair tangled and wild and messy. He would recognize her anywhere. She was sad though, and he could see the pursing of her lips.

In a flash, it was gone, and Arya was in the arms of a man now, and she was... Gods, she was-

"Stop!" Jon roared and shrank back, anger burning in his veins. It couldn't be.

She would never.

Melisandre opened her eyes and looked at him calmly.

"You only saw what the Lord-"

"Damn you and your Lord to the Seven Hells!" He yelled. His hand gripped her neck with force.

"This is all because of you," he accused her. She was choking beneath his grasp and her hands were trying to push his arm away frantically but to no avail. Jon tightened his grip on her neck. This was all her fault. Everything.

Jon.

Suddenly, he stopped, his hand falling down on its own.

She wouldn't want this, he thought.

He heard a knock on the door behind him.

"Prince Jon?"

"Yes?" He asked loudly, eyes fixed on the woman before him who was now coughing and breathing raggedly. He was leaning back against the wall, supporting her body against it. He felt no remorse for what he had done. He could do a lot worse to her. After what she showed...

Arya would never let another man touch her. He knew it. It was just an illusion. He was wrong to even believe this woman in the first place. All she knew was deception. She had tricked his Father and now she was hoping to trick him by showing him false visions.

"The King is asking for you, Your Highness," the man replied. "He wants you in his solar."

"I'll be there!"

When the footsteps retreated, he looked at Melisandre one last time.

"You will tell my Father," he commanded. "And don't you dare come before me again or I'll kill you myself."

He was just opening the door to leave when he heard her voice again, as calm as ever.

"If I hadn't told the King about the prophecy, you wouldn't have met her in the first place. What you saw was nothing but the truth. There are many things you just don't know, Jon Targaryen."

0-0-0-0-0

He was roused from his sleep by a series of impatient knocks on his door. He quickly grabbed the tunic from his bedside and put it on, cursing under his breath and leaping out of the bed when the knocks didn't stop and were getting more and more loud by the second.

He pulled his door open and peeked to see the intruder outside. It was the last person in the world he had imagined to knock at his door at this hour.

"Prince Jon?" He asked disbelievingly.

"I am sorry to disturb your sleep, Lord Loras, but there's something I must discuss with you."

"Can't it wait?" He asked, trying his best to hide the hint of irritation in his voice.

"It is more of an order, My Lord," Jon said, arching his brow. "And pray, bring your cloak. You're going to need it."

It this was any other person, Loras would've brought his sword too. But Jon Targaryen was many things except a fool, and no matter how much he detested him, Jon would never try to hurt Loras. He was an honourable man, and honourable men seldom lose their temper. Besides, it would paint a dark portrait of the future King among the people.

Loras nodded and headed back to his room. His cloak was discarded by the chair. He picked it up and pulled it around his shoulders, not wanting to carry it instead. A quick glance through the window made him realize it was likely past midnight, and sleep evaded him the moment he walked out of his room.

Of all the people in the castle, he believed Jon was the one who mistrusted him and his sister the most. Only the afternoon before, he and Margaery had been summoned to the Throne Room and there had been a inquisition as to whether they knew about the traitorous works of their Father. But Loras had done but a little. He had to give credit to Margaery for an outstanding display of her acting talents. It took but a few tears on her part for the Court- or at least half of it- to believe they were innocent. Later, instead of being thrown into cells, they were allowed to stay in King's Landing as guests.

Sometimes, Loras couldn't help but be in awe of her sister. Maybe her time with their grandmother, the Queen of Thorns, had finally began to bear fruit.

They were out of the castle and walking through the grounds when Jon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him with cold, grey eyes.

"You and your sister put up quite an act the other day," he said.

"It was far from a act, My Prince. I believe your Father believes so as well."

"We're not here to talk about my Father's opinion." A stableboy appeared from the darkness with a saddled horse. Jon took the reins and dismissed him with a nod.

"Are you going somewhere, Your Highness?" Loras asked curiously.

"You are," Jon said, and handed him the reins.

"Pardon?"

"You are leaving the city," Jon began. "You are riding to Storm's End."

Loras narrowed his eyes. It was definitely not the perfect hour to jape.

"I believe I do not follow you. Why would I-"

"Oh, you will," Jon said, interrupting him. "You are leaving. Now. You are to ride until you reach the Stormlands, then you are to bring my Arya back to me."

This must be a jape. I cannot leave my sister.

"I know you are no less innocent than your Father," Jon spat. "Don't even try to convince me otherwise. So, before I tell the King to imprison both of you, you do as I say."

"My sister is here," Loras said. "I refuse to leave Margaery."

Jon smiled mockingly.

"You have no choice. If you want your sister to be free, bring Arya back. Or else, both of you are stuck in the enemy's lair and how long do you think before the truth comes out? Bring her to me, Loras, and I will let your sister go. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. No harm will come to her from this day till the day you bring Arya back."

They will never let me, he thought.

Jon was acting like a child. Plans had already been made to ensure that he and Margaery could get out of the city without any harm befalling them. And now, he was given a chance to leave and Loras knew that no matter what he wanted, his Father would never let him bring Arya back. Never. Not even if he begged.

"If you don't go," Jon spoke again. "I will make sure that when the sun rises in the morning, your sister is thrown inside a cell down in the dungeons."

"You have no proof," Loras countered.

"I have more proof than you think, My Lord. Now, will you leave or are you staying?"

Jon couldn't possibly have any proof. But he was a Prince. He could buy proof if he wanted to. He could give poor men coins and they would say everything he wanted them to say. Loras didn't want to see his sister in the dungeon. But he knew that no matter what, he couldn't bring back Arya even if he wanted to. It would all be a big deception.

"I will bring Arya," he lied. "I will leave. But you must keep your promise and make sure no harm comes to my sister."

"You have my word," Jon said, in a voice that sounded relieved.

Jon handed him a bag of gold and Loras mounted the horse, and briefly nodding at Jon and glancing back at the castle, said a silent goodbye to Margaery.

"Godspeed, Lord Loras," Jon called.

He wanted Arya back and for that he was letting an enemy get out of his reach without thinking of the consequences.

You are wrong in trusting me, he thought, as his horse galloped into the night.

Such fools love turns men into.

0-0-0-0-0

When she entered the room, it was as dark as night with a small flame of a candle swaying back and forth. Melisandre chanted a prayer to her Lord, and instantly all the wicks of the candles in the room bore a flame. The solar was bathed in an yellow-orange light.

"You must not keep everything so dark, Your Grace. The Lord of Light smiles upon those who light a fire in their homes and keep it bright in the night as it is during the day."

"I do not wish to hear your advice, Priestess," the King said. "I asked you for a solution. Do you have it?"

Melisandre smiled.

"I told you the solution many moons ago, Your Grace. But alas, you haven't heeded it still."

"My son will not marry Sansa Stark. He will not have her and I cannot force him to."

"But it is the only way, Your Grace." She approached him slowly.

"You said a Northern girl. Arya Stark is also a Northerner. She is as fierce as my Lyanna is, and I can see my son loves her. How will it matter if it is her rather than Sansa?"

Melisandre shook her head.

"I have seen her, Your Grace. Sansa Stark stood beside your son as a Queen would beside a King. And my visions tell me Lady Arya is in ties with another man. Your son saw it today as well, and while he was less than gentle after seeing it, it is but the truth."

She could still feel the tightening of his fingers around her throat. She could understand him. It would break a man's heart to see someone they claim to love in the arms of another man. To see the object of their love being held and kissed by another- it could make the calmest of men love their patience.

"You talked to my son?" Rhaegar glowered at her.

"He came to me. I only showed him the truth."

"And why should I believe your visions are true?" The King asked.

"When have they not been? I told you about the Baratheons, about the war."

"And you tell me there is only one way!" Rhaegar roared. "Tell me another!"

"There is no another!" She stood beside him and looked up at his lilac eyes. Her hand reached up to place itself on his cheek. "Don't you trust me, My King?"

Rhaegar grabbed her hand and pushed it away, eyeing her with rage.

"The marriage is the only way," she insisted. "Before things get worse, you must have them wedded. Trust in my visions, Your Grace. The sooner they marry, the better."

Rhaegar clenched his jaw and walked out. Melisandre revelled at the sight of his broad back and silver-white hair. The King's beauty was no secret. Rhaegar was beautiful and graceful and someone who could frequent a maiden's dreams even when he was more than forty years of age.

Melisandre had seduced countless men into her bed, and no matter how much the King loved his wife, Melisandre was confident that sooner or later, she would make him have her.

Men were weak creatures at best, and even the most faithful had their days of temptation.