#jonsadick?

Life’s Not a Song AU

“I won’t go” Sansa was determined to stand her ground now more that ever, she refused to go South again.

Her father sighed while her mother looked at her perplexed and hurt, of course she would, she remembered that innocent obidient girl she sent to her sister to foster at the Vale, but she had long since stopped being her, in fact she barely recalled what it felt like to be that naive girl, that starry-eyed Sansa Stark seemed like a far away dream now.

“You must” said Catelyn gathering strenght, what in heaven had happened to her sweet girl? “King Rhaegar wishes to make your aquintance, we are in no position to refuse”

“Why not?” she was in the border of hysterics, she wasn’t going to leave Winterfell, her own home when she had just returned! “He is the one who has no right to ask anything of us after what he did to Aunt Lyanna!”

Ned looked sadly at his daughter, the pretty and gente girl who dreamed with songs and princes, maybe it would have been better if he and Cat had made her more aware of how the real world was like before sending her out to it. Now it was too late, only the gods know what got on Sansa’s head for her to act like this.

“That is precisely the reason why” said Catelyn “the King wishes to make amends with the North looking for a advatageous match for you in the Capital, you’ll attend the court, and the tourneys, all you’ve ever wanted”

“I don’t want it anymore!” she half- screamed, half-sobbed “Nobody will ever marry me for love! I am not so stupid to believe so, not anymore. Make a match with whatever lord you see fit but don’t send me away.”

Catelyn’s heart broke, what girl of barely five and ten would say such a thing? Why had her beautiful girl given up all her hopes and dreams?

“You will go” Ned had his stern Lord of Winterfell face on. As a father it was hard to see his daughter in such a state, he barely knew what had transpired at the Vale for she refused to speak about it. But as a Lord Paramount of the North he had to obey the King, Sansa’s attitude was all to similar to Lyanna refusing to marry Robert and he despaired to think she would have a similar fate, he would not allow it.

Besides he still hoped a taste of the luxury of the court life and all the things Sansa had loved so well in the past could make her return to her old sweet and gente self, he realised how foolish that hope was, but it was all he could do for her at the moment.

. .

Elia stepped in on Jon’s solar, the boy had been sulky since his father had announced the impeding visit of his cousin, as far as she knew Jon liked the Starks very well since the one time Rhaegar had allowed him to visit Winterfell, but for some reson he had taken with dread the vist of his mother’s kin.

Lyanna.

Once upon a time her very name caused tears to fill her eyes, once upon a time the name casted a shadow on her heart, once upon a time looking at Jon’s little face her was all she could think about. But that time was long gone.

She could only wish the Seven or maybe even the old Northern gods may keep to her soul, whatever hurt she had caused Elia was in the past, one can’t after all question the dead, and she had never been keen on taking children by their parent’s misdeeds.

Rhaegar may have humilliated, disappoint and betrayed her but she was a Martell through and through unbowed in spirit, unbent in her gentleness and unbroken in dignity.

She sitted herself beside him and tapped his nose with her finger like she usted to do when he and Aegon were little more that babes.

He scrunched up his nose and smiled despite himself.

“What is troubling you?” she asked now that she had cracked him up from his brooding

Jon sighed “You should not concern yourself with me Your Grace”

This new attitude was exahusting, ever since Jon had learned what transpired on the Rebellion, guilt had flooded him. The poor dear barely one and ten at that time had cried and asked for her forgiveness on his mother’s stead. Countless of times after Harrenhall’s tourney had she dreamed of Rhaegar or Lyanna doing the same and after she woke she felt a satisfaction so fierce it frightened her, but when she had little Jon on his knees, the babe that had won her heart as soon as he smiled his thoothless grin at her in his crib even though she had tried to steel herself to despise and ignore him, it broke her, made her ashamed of ever wanting to hate him. She had embraced him and tried to explain it was not his fault, but from that moment on he became brooding and elusive with her.

“If you don’t want to talk to me as a mother then as Queen I bid you to tell me”

“My cousin is coming to court” He began staring intently at the patterned rug on the floor.

“I already knew that my dear, why it was me who asked the King to call for her in the first place”

He turned with wide eyes to look at her “Y-you? So it doesn’t offend you?”

Elia shook her head gently “I have already told you the Starks never did anything for me to hate them all, your cousin wasn’t even born at the time of the conflict” but then a thought ocurred to her, what if his aprehension for his cousin presence was the fact that the girl, Lady Sansa, beared an uncanny resemblance to Lyanna, would she bear to look upon that face again? “D-does she look a lot like Lady Lyanna?” her voice sounded frail and insecure even to her own ears and she hated it.

“No” he scrunched his nose again “Nothing farther from it Your Grace, my cousin, Lady Sansa looks just like her mother Lady Catelyn”

The sigh of relief that escaped her was also a thing she hated. Still she managed to compose herself, she rose from her seat straightening her dress and run her hands softly through Jon’s dark curls. Gods she missed those times when Aegon and Jon would run up to her to tell her about their games or their training, now she had a very brooding young man and a married son living in Dragonstone.

“She is so prissy” he murmured suddenly.

Elia giggled amused “Lady Sansa?” he nodded, and Elia just looked at him with tenderness, he was so very young still “So was I my dear, once while my mother, brother and I traveled across the Reach to meet potential matches, we were at Oldtown and I believed I had found my true love, his name was Baelor Hightower, he was just the perfect knight, the sort you hear about in the songs, tall and handsome– What?” he was rolling his eyes and she just knew what his answer would be.

“You sound just like her” he said quite uncomfortable “Talking about songs, and handsome knights, it’s just so silly”

“Is it? Because I remember very clearly when you shouted I am Aemon the Dragonknight!” she said rising her voice to a childlish wail in imitation to Jon younger’s self voice “when Aegon, Rhaenerys, Viserys,Daenerys and you played together”

His face was red “I was a child!”

She arched an eyebrow amused “Were you? Well now I clearly remember when you were one and ten and the King allowed you to go North you returned bent on joining the Night’s Watch, you were quite dazzled by your Uncle Benjen and when the King allowed for you to visit the Wall you were so disappointed you cried. How is it any worse dreaming about songs? Everyone has dreams and hopes that they wish were true”

He hid his hands in his palms ashamed “You win your Grace”

“Now as I was saying he was perfect in my eyes until one day” she laughed despite herself gods just the memory was enough to feel like that young and naive maiden had been “he– he farted in front of us” her laugh was uncontrollable at his point and she heard Jon’s faint chuckle join her “but the worst was that after that my brother Oberyn whispered in my ear he should be called Baelor Breakwind instead of Brightsmile and I–” she had to stop for laughter was leaving her breathless “Gods poor lad, I just couldn’t look him in the face without laughing.”

Her laughter died little by little leaving just a trace of a smile.

“But know I am a different person, lots of Lords have farted and done all manner of ungracious things in front of me and I am able to keep my composture in front of them and treat them as always, people can surprise you in the way they change Jon, be good to your cousin she’ll certainly need all the friends she can in the court, you know how it is” He nodded solemnly. Jon didn’t believed his cousin had changed at all but he would be as good and courteous as he could for the Queen’s sake.

. .

He was in for a surprise.

She arrived at Kings Landing on horseback instead of traveling by carriage as he expected of her, her fiery red hair braided tightly and bouncing against her back, sharp cheekbones, her blue eyes clearer in the sunlight, yet no amount of sun seemed to take away the chilly aura around her. Not at all the girl he remembered, the one with a rosy face and chubby cheeks.

She was pretty even back then, but she was beginning to be something more, beautiful didn’t fit quite right there was something otherwordly and untouchable about her, Jon felt a shameful pang of longing in his chest and he felt fear grip his heart.

Father had forbidden Aegon and Myrcella’ s presence, at first it had seemed ridiculous to him, Queen Elia shared his opinion and discused the subject hotly with his father, but now he began to understand, his father thought his brother would surely be enraptured by his cousin’s Northern beauty and would repeat history, he wasn’t sure that would be the case though, as alike as father and Aegon were in the burden that seemed to weight them both down, Egg (and Jon shared this opinion) had decided from a very young age he would never sire a bastard.

His brother was an honorable man Jon knew, never visited brothels, never got on his cups, always polite and attentive if a bit distant. No, the Egg he knew and loved would never, but then again Jon Connington and Arthur Dayne had had the same high opinion about his father once, and yet here he was the product of King Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark broken honor.

He felt fear because for an instant he desired her, even if he didn’t like her personality at all, a look of her deep blue eyes was enough for him to forget and that shared him.

She came to a stop in the gates of the Red Keep, her guard were no more than 6 or 7 stren faced northerns all riding behind her. She dismounted with grace, giving a last pat in to her magnificent brown mare. Her dress was of simple grey color, with her house’s direwolf sigil emboidered in silver thread at the left side of her chest, a blue cloack around her shoulders, he noticed there was nothing fashionable or well-put about her appereance, she was about to meet the King in clothes fit only to travel, the girl he met at Winterfell would have been horrified but maybe there was an explanation, they got robbed on the road and her clothes were taken with them money, that could have been so but her guard still had their swords and that was the first thing robbers took.

Even in her less than aproppiate garments and state she walked gracefuly to stand before them, her chin high and expression unreadable.

She is doing this on purpose

The realisation hit him as soon as she made a perfect courtesy in front of the King and Queen, he could not quite explain it and mayhaps it was only his mind, but there was something almost fierce in her manners, she looked delicate and refined one would take her for a Princess in the way she carries herself but there was something there in the glint of her eyes, something almost savage.

. .

She walked up to the royal family with her head held high, she must be causing quite the impression with her hair in such a simple almost lazy style, probably it looked messy, she hoped it did. Ser Jory had told her to change her clothes in the carriage her father had sent and she had refused him, now there was no denying that part of her wished desesperatly to do it, to brush and dress her hair in the southern fashion to wear one of the silk dresses her mother had made her herself, but no, the King and her cousin Jon deserved for her to be with a mud-stained riding dress and her hair a bird’s nest when she greeted them, this small and simple act of rebellion would most likely to unnoticed, courtesy was a lady’s amor and a Lady she would be, no one would find a fault in her manners even if her appereance wasn’t the best, no Lord or heir would find her attractive or sweet like this though, and that is just what she wanted, she wanted to give King Rhaegar the hardest of times finding her a bethroted, even if she had to act half wild as Arya she would go back North as she came: unbethroted.

She droped into a practised courtesy making sure her hair was visible, that her dirty dress caught his attention “My King”

“Rise LadySansa” he commanded in a rich deep voice fit for his title.

He was wearing black just like the songs said, some said he wore it for his father, some said it was for her Aunt Lyanna, and others said it was for repentance for the pain he had caused his Kingdom, many called him Aegon III come again “the broken King of a broken realm”. And she almost believed it for the deep sadness in his eyes, but she did not allowed her compassion to win out, she had been brought here as his repentance to the North, the King doing good to the Starks, choosing her a bethroted himself, allowing her to asist court and staying in the Red Keep as his honored guest, but she refused to be so, Littlefinger and Aunt Lysa had played enough games with her mind back in the Vale, she had barely escaped their claws, she refused to be someone’s pawn anymore. “I am happy to make your aquintance my dear” said Queen Elia smiling warmly “Your cousin has told me quite a bit about you”

Sansa stilled for a moment, Queen Elia had been something of a wild card in her view, there were so many opinions she heard on the Vale about her… Yet looking at her face was quite different than she had imagined she expected coldness and resentment, she expected a sickly and tired Queen, that was not the truth at all. Queen Elia was regal and beautiful, there were no wrinkles on her face and her hair was pitch black, she looked far younger than the King and more lively too, her kindness had seemed genuine but Sansa doubted very much her cousin had said a single good thing about her. His bad opinion of her after all had been what pushed her parents to send her away to the Vale in the first place. So either the Queen was lying for courtesy or was mocking her in some secret way.

“Then I must thank my dear cousin for his kindness your grace, I am very grateful for your invitation” she replied with a smile. Playing the fool would be the best with the Queen, at least she hoped so, and Aunt Lysa had always said she even looked like one.

“You must be very tired Lady Sansa” the King spoke again turning to look at his son “Jon, take your cousin to her room”

Her cousin stepped forth, he was always so easy to overlook, she kind of envied him. He looked every bit the Targaryen Prince in his fine clothes, yet his manners were awkward and stitled, his feautures Northern, he bowed and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch in his gruff voice and then offered his arm.

She took it. “My Prince”

He led her through the doors where the Throne room was, the sight was impressive yet ominious, the whole room was bathed in a strange red light that made everything seem as if it were convered in blood, the effect was especially frightening in the Iron Throne were blood covered swords seemed to point menacingly in every direction what an awful sight must be having the mourning King in black sitted atop the bloody throne surrounded by those monstrous black dragon skulls, it must be terrifying for the petitioners she thought, Winterfell’s court was very different for the southern ones, yet she thought it was them kindest and ironically warmest she had seen by far.

Then he took her across the castle’s corridors, which looked all very similar with their red stone walls and Targaryens banners everywhere, until they reached the tower were Baelor the Blessed had kept his sisters, her cousin had explained in a practiced kind voice His Grace had heard of her love of songs and stories and tought she would like to stay here.

She looked at him with coldness “I am sure the chambers are more than adequate and comfortable my Prince, but I must clarify I am a child no longer, things like stories and songs matter very little to me now”

He snorted “I find that very hard to believe”

“I care very little about your beliefs my Prince” she adressed his title with venom dripping from her voice “I just ask you to stop spreading things that are no longer true about me”

She intended to walk past him to enter her chambers when he grabbed her arm.

“Why are you doing this?” he hissed “All this show you put about not caring about what anyone thinks about you, I met you before my Lady, you thrived on people’s attention”

She gritted her theeth, he had no idea what he was taliking about, but why would he? “I am not putting on a show, I really don’t care, I am not interested in playing court games and if you excuse me I am rather tired” she yanked her arm out of his grip and run for her chambers bolting the dolor shut behind her.

. .

Elia once again stepped in Jon’s solar, Lord Varys had informed her the Prince had left his cousin’s company in a very foul mood, he had been most of the day on the training yard taking his rage out on starw man and any squire and knight willing to fight him, Jon wasn’t like that he was usualy very tempered she couldn’t imagine what could have happened for him to be a angry, he had even refused to eat with them and had asked for a bath and food to be sent to his rooms. Elia’s opinion on Sansa was not yet complete, the girl seemed a true Lady charming and well mannered, yet there was something that made her feel sad when she watched the girl she couldn’t quite point it out but she had always been perceptive to people’s moods and sadness rolled out of Lady Sansa in waves.

Her step-son was sitted his balcony overlooking the tower where his cousin was staying in full brooding mood, the food on his table was untouched but his cup of wine was almost empty.

“Jon” she called to him softly.

He turned to her with that stubborn expression she knew so well for it bear a resemblance to Rhaegar.

“What happened with Lady Sansa? You seem to be so angry yet she was perfectly fine at luncheon”

“Of course she would be” he muttered angrily “She is impossible that is what happened!”

“Was she overly talkative or is this about the knights and songs again?” she asked crossing her arms across her chest.

“No, It’s nothing like that, I was trying so hard to do what you asked, I was even willing to indulge in her love for songs yet she dismissed my concern and my courtesies” he said running his hand through his hair like Elia knew he was wont to do when he was frustrated.

Elia frowned “You said concerns, why would you be concerned about her my dear? Is she unwell? Does she miss her home terribly?”

He shook his head “I– I don’t really know how to explain it but I got this feeling–” he paused looking for the correct words “well that is not the important thing, it’s just I was trying to get her to smile and talk with her about songs, and she got angry, she told me she was not intrested in such a things anymore”

“That is certainly a strange behaviour and I think there must be something behind it as well” Elia began to worry, she understood that attitude very well, she had loved stories and court life, all the legends about the Dragon Kings and the Red Keep filled her head with sweet dreams…until she married Rhaegar and the talks began behind her back, her own husband’s supporters thought her unworthy of their prince, her goodfather openly sneered at her and rejected her beautiful Rhaenerys in front of the whole court, the Hand’s King Lord Tywin was fervently hoping her death so he could marry his daughter to Rhaegar, Rhaegar himself with his betrayal… The dream shattered and for a time she could not bear to have singers or mummer shows in court celebrating her husband’s victory when she knew the truth behind it. “I could talk with her if you wish, we woman do tend to be more at ease with each other than with a man”

“No I don’t think that would do any good” he said with a tired sigh, lines of worry etched on his face “she already thinks I am quite the gossip, she actually asked me to stop talking about her with you and father”

Elia cracked up at the image of Jon as a Second Lord Varys whispering in people’s ears and spreading gossip in the court “Well then I will leave it be, but I shall ask of you to act in a manner fit for a Prince, you have responsabilities Jon, I know you younglings always thought me fastidious going on and on about your duties to the realm, but I don’t care if being a nag helps me get the message through your thick skulls, you need to come down to take your meals with me and your father, you need to be courteous with your cousin and talk only good things about her to any Lord or knight who asks you after her and keep an eye out for who would be a good match, the King I’m afraid would not be able to make the wisest decision ragarding this matter if he relies only in his own opinion, you are her kin Jon, even if you don’t like each other very much you are the closest thing she has to her family here and I am sure Lord Eddard will appreciate it very much if you look after her, also the tourney I know it isn’t something you like but it’s expected of you to participate.”

“We never thought you were fastidious your Grace” well Viserys certainly did, Jon remembered breaking his uncle’s nose once for such a coment, but Daenerys,Rhaenerys, Aegon and himself always took very seriously her advices “and I– I am sorry for acting this way, I’ll try to be better” he was ashamed of his attitude but Lady Sansa had a way to twist him in a way nobody had before, still he would try to reign himself in, she was his kin and he planned on treating her as such no matter what.

“That’s all I wanted to hear”

. .

Dickon couldn’t help but cringe, the smell gods! It was disgusting, this mix of salt water, fish and shit only grew stronger as they neared King’s Landing, he almost wished he could be in the carriage along his sister’s and Lady mother smelling their soft floral perfumes and eating the delicious treats they were sure enjoying, a silly fantasy he knew for his Lord father would never allow him to travel as a weakling.

“Don’t make that face boy” reprimanded the stern voice of his Lord Father, Randyll Tarly, beside him “You’ll get accostumed to it, don’t let it show you’re barely a green boy, you’re the huntsmen, and a huntsmen must never show fear in front of stags,lions,dragons,wolves and such beasts you understand?”

“Yes father” he replied and made an effort to keep a straight face when he wanted nothing more than to puke.

They rode hard till they finally reached the city,the smell was worse than ever, so bad Dickon was trying his hardest to take only the shallowest of breaths, not only the city smelled foul, it looked like that too, full of beggars, fisherman,whores… not that the Reach didn’t had those too but he had never seemed so many of them together, it reminded him of the rotten apples surrounded by flies, back in Hornhill, when he was a child he often climbed them to get some apples for his mother, Talla and Sam, some turned out to be rotten and he would leave discarded in the grass only to find them surrounded by flies and other manner of unpleasant creatures, and he got the some impression looking at the dirty cobblestones and cramped buildings surrounding him.

The nausea only receeded once he was on his chambers in the Red Keep, they had a window overlooking the sea, and the smell was fresh and clean. Now he just felt terribly anxious, his father and mother had come earlier to talk with him, his mother told him to be smart and careful during the tourney with her usual warmth but his father had told him he wasn’t here to make a fool of himself, he didn’t expected him to win but he expected him to give a good performance, and over all he must keep an eye out for Lady Sansa.

“The she-wolf is the cousin of the bastard Prince, a very good match, the Starks are an important family and the King is so desperate to make it up to them he organized this tourney wi the sole purpose to make her a good match, that is the important prize my son, not a flower clown not winning the tourney but winning the Lady’s hand. The Queen of Thorns will no doubt try to sway the girl into marrying Willas, the cunning bitch will use Ser Loras as a bait but I am sure you are more than able to stop her plans aren’t you Dickon?”

“I will try” he was unsure he ever could surpass Ser Loras, he was the best swordman in the Reach and the ladies adored him, Dickon while not half bad in the sword and not unpleasant to look at was not a good conversationalist, he wasn’t raised to keep a castle or be in a court, he was a hunter, a fighter… But he could not say those things to his father, and he could not refuse his commands, he would have to try to talk to Lady Sansa and hope by some miracle that she liked him best than Ser Loras.

He was terribly afraid to dissapoint his father.

. .

The fear only increased when he realized how ill prepared he was for his task, every other Lord had already talked to her, found out she liked lemmons (Lord Trystan Martell had gifted her a batch of lemmon cakes and she had regaled him with the brightest most beautiful smile Dickon had ever seen), composed verses and songs, and gifted her beautiful jewel necklaces and rings, yet she seemed to barely tolerate them all, she smiled and was courteous and kind but never showed preference towards one Lord, never flirted back, and more often than not would keep to her chambers or the godswood as to not to be disturbed, it was disheartening or say the least.

She was beautiful, more than beautiful, with her hair red as the autum leaves and blue eyes clear as the lake behind the big hill back at home. Dickon oftenday dreamed of what could it feel like to kiss and her call her wife… Such thoughts made him blush as red as her hair, but they did not displeased him, he longed for them and felt even more the fool knowing she probably didn’t even knew he existed.

On such occasion, he was strolling through the gardens midlessly, his day dream was too intresting to pay any mind to where he was going, Lady Sansa was on his arms, he had returned from an exiting battle against the dothraki, of course they had won and Sansa, Lady Sansa Tarly was waiting for him in a silky blue dress red curls floating in the wind like his banners, she said how much she had missed him and her whole body was pressed against his, she smelled of flowers but her breath had a tang of lemmon that made his moith go dry, so he inclined…

His thoughts were cut short when he almost trípode on a stone, he looked around to make sure no one was looking at him and realized he was very near the godswood, his heart thudded in his chest, maybe he could stead a look at her if she was praying, he wouldn’t talk to her for it would be rude but maybe he could look at her.

Crack

He had stepped on something, he lifted the sole of his boot and sure enough a purple crystal lay broken in the grass, but it was not just a random purple crystal, it was an amethyst and upon closer inspection he could see there were several other amethysts laying around joined by a silver chain, he recognized it immediately it was a necklace Lord Edric Dayne gifted Lady Sansa, the clip must have come loose and it had slipped her neck surely, and he had broken it!

She was gonna hate him, but Dickon was no coward he would face her and confess his crimes even if it meant he interrupted her prayers.

She found her on her knees, with her eyes closed and hands clasped together in front of a tree.

He cleared his throat looking pointedly at his feet, feeling suddenly ashamed at having looking at her in such am intimate moment.

“My Lord?” she asked with one of her elegant red eyebrows arched.

He extended his palm, showing her the cracked crystal “I am really sorry my Lady, it was on the grass and I carelessly stepped on it I will replace it if you want”

She took the crystal in her hands, her eyes pinning him to the ground and then in an unexpected turn she laughed. Of all her possible reactions Dickon never thought his careless mistake would make her laugh.

“I am sorry m'Lord” she was still smiling “laughing was rude, I was not mocking you it is just that I was the one to discard the necklace my lord, I do not mind that you stepped on it”

To prove her point she let the necklace fall to e grass again and stepped on it herself.

“See? nothing to worry about Lord Tarly” “I– thank you m'lady but I must confess I am very confused” inside he was thrilled that she knew who he was

“I am afraid I will not explain myself, the answer is something you will not like and my father once told me one cannot lie in front of a heart tree” she turned to look at the lush tree behind her “this is no heart tree I know, but it is a godswood and I am of the north so I will not lie in the presence of my gods.”

He nodded clumsily “I respect that” His response seemed to shock her for a moment but then she shook her head.

“Will you walk back to the Keep with me Lord Tarly?”

. .

“You can’t keep doing this Jon!” Elia was really desperate for him to understand why threatening his cousin’s suitors was not a good thing to do but here he was sturborn as ever.

“I am only protecting her!” and Jon was saying the truth, he did not threaten every single one of those ambitious pricks, just the especially disgusting ones, of course he could never admit there was some fierce satisfaction in the act, some deep primitive feeling when he bested them at the sword, a pride in the knowledge at least Sansa was sincere with him, she had even come to trust and care for him.

Elia took his hands in her own looking him in the eye “ That may be so my dear, but people are talking, you must understand it doesn’t look good for a Targaryen prince to be so overly concerned with a Stark girl, and the Baratheon boy! He has been spreading rumours that you are madly in love with her and you only beat him because she likes him better.”

Jon clenched his jaw, that little shit!

“Then am I to pay for my father’s mistakes always?”

And in his eyes, those deep dark eyes, Elia saw the truth and it frightened more than anything. “It’s true” she whispered releasing his hands “you are in love with her”

He lowered his gaze, he knew he couldn’t lie to her, she was the only mother he ever knew and he loved her fiercely. “I am sorry”

Elia enveloped him in her arms, he was taller than her already yet he looked a lost babe. “It’s alright” she whispered along with other comforting things that made no sense, this was dangerous, even if Jon was not aware of it yet, Rhaegar had been planning to marry him to Lady Margaery Tyrell, and she wasn’t sure if he would allow Jon to pursue his cousin.

She would help him she decided, maybe she was doing wrong but Jon deserved to be happy, and he was happy with Lady Sansa, no one would be hurt, this was not the same thing as 20 years ago and if Rhaegar couldn’t see it then she would make him.

. . .