Of Schemes and Kisses

“You’re not wearing that, are you?” Rhaegar’s voice echoed around the expansive room as he strode towards his daughter. Rhaenys smirked at herself in the mirror, taking in her reflection one last time before turning to face her father. A sleeveless white dress clung to her body with detailed golden stitching extending from the seams, and the top half of her dark hair was pinned back, allowing loose curls to tumble behind her shoulders. Atop her head sat golden chains that connected to one another with rubies, a pendant of the Martell sun hanging from the centre and resting on her forehead. A larger ruby hung around her neck, and more gold and jewels adorned her fingers and wrists.

“I thought you would like this dress,” Rhaenys said innocently, well aware that he was complaining about the headwear. She gave him a glance over, wishing that her pale-skinned, light-haired father would wear colours that suited him rather than sticking to the bold red and black of their house colours.

“You know that I am referring to that atrocity on your forehead,” he replied before glancing at Audrei, Rhaenys’ lady in waiting who had been helping the handmaidens dress her. “Remove it. I cannot present her like this.”

“If we take it off, my hair will be ruined and we’ll have to start over,” Rhaenys insisted. “There isn’t much time left until they arrive.” Rhaegar looked to Audrei for confirmation and she nodded with agreement, making his tired face stiffen.

“This is the last time I ever see that jewellery on you, do you understand?” he scolded but Rhaenys remained quiet and showed no sign of taking in his words. “One more mistake from you and I will begin to punish you again. Your actions no longer dictate my reputation and future, but your own.”

“Well if he does not love my uniqueness, then he should turn back north.”

“A royal marriage has nothing to do with love,” Rhaegar reminded her just before bells began to sound from the north watchtower. “They’re on the horizon. Finish preparing yourself and come to the throne room. Don’t be late.” As he left, Rhaenys turned to her friend and exhaled to try to shake her nervousness away.

“He is going to think you are the most beautiful woman in the world,” Audrei reassured her friend as she secured Rhaenys’ favourite dragon pendant high around her neck.

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” Rhaenys admitted, her hands now trembling with anticipation of a moment she had been awaiting for a long time.


The royal family stood tall before the iron throne, Rhaegar and Elia in the middle with their children Rhaenys and Aegon at either side, dark banners of black and red draped throughout the room to represent the Targaryen house. To one side, Viserys, his wife Margaery, and Daenerys waited, all three fidgeting and wishing that they did not have to attend a formality that barely concerned them. Horse hooves thundered to a stop on the dirtied pathway outside and Rhaenys strained her eyes to look through the open doors and inspect the Starks. Plenty of burly Northerners were thundering inside, but they took positions on either side of the hall, proudly framing a path with silver shields engraved with direwolves. A towering man immediately caught Rhaenys’ attention as he stomped inside, his brown hair half tied back off his hairy face and a coat of fur that hung heavily over his shoulders and trailed down his side, partially covering the sheathed sword secured to his hip. Despite noticing how soft his eyes and expression were once the man was closer, his presence remained intimidating. Though she had never met him before, once she saw the redheaded woman join his side and curtsey to the royals before them, she knew that they were Eddard and Catelyn, two of the most prominent people in Westeros and the parents of her betrothed.

Already aware that Robb was their firstborn, Rhaenys directed her attention to the next person who was striding towards the throne. He looked just as stiff and nervous as she was, but he carried the same sense of authority as his father as he walked. His body was hidden beneath dark brown leathers and a black cloak lined with fur, so Rhaenys’ eyes rested on his face. A sharp jawline was covered in a layer of stubble and under thick eyebrows shone blue eyes that were scanning the family before him. As he bowed to show his respect, Rhaenys watched the dark curls bounce over his forehead, though an obvious attempt had been made to somewhat tame his hair beforehand. Robb raised his gaze as he straightened and his eyes rested on Rhaenys, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. Rhaegar glanced with narrowed eyes to his daughter and watched as the smile crept onto her lips, then smiled himself and diverted his attention to the young redhead who was joining her brother’s side. After Sansa had curtseyed, Rhaegar broke the formation and approached Eddard.

Rhaegar moved down the line, powerfully shaking the men’s hands and smiling at the women as he formally greeted them. Elia then joined his side and received kisses on the hand from Eddard and Robb, curtseys and compliments on her beauty from Catelyn and Sansa, and then she turned to nod at her daughter. Rhaenys glided down the steps she had played on since a young age, coming to a stop at her father’s side and extending a trembling hand to Eddard. The heaviness of the situation had blanketed her confidence, hiding it as though it had never existed.

“I present to you my daughter, Rhaenys Targaryen,” Rhaegar announced as he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Eddard’s gentle clasp on Rhaenys’ hand helped to calm her and she forced a polite smile onto her face.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, my Princess,” Eddard said before Rhaegar gently pulled her before Catelyn to receive a curtsey and wide smile.

“It is an honour to have you betrothed to my son,” Catelyn stated with obvious honesty in her tone. Rhaenys smiled at her as well before her father guided her to stand in front of Robb. Her guts felt as though they were flipping and her breath was almost taken away by how stunningly blue his eyes were now that she was closer to him, such a contrast to her dark brown pair. Rhaenys had barely offered her hand to him when he took a hold of it, bringing it to surprisingly plump lips before they relaxed into a smile and he released her hand.

“It is such a pleasure,” he said softly as they held each other’s gaze, the reality sinking in for both of them that they were finally looking at the person they were going to wed and be with for the rest of their lives, if they were lucky. Rhaegar unwillingly broke the moment and shuffled her along to greet Sansa before bringing Aegon, Viserys, Margaery and Daenerys before the Starks. Rhaenys stood to the side with her mother, watching Robb as he politely greeted her family with a charming smile and sincere enthusiasm. Once the formalities had finished and the royal court was pleased with the arrival, Rhaegar presented his demand like an offer for Eddard and Robb to follow with him whilst the women were escorted to their guest rooms. Robb gestured behind him and a man his age with black hair as curly as Robb’s followed with a hand on the hilt of his sword, another similar aged man with thin brown hair proudly trailing behind Eddard. Robb’s personal guard caught her eye as she watched them leave and she quickly diverted her gaze back to Robb, pondering why his guard had a sense of familiarity to him.


Joyous music filled the room, somehow managing to drown out the bustling noise of drunken men wreaking havoc and less intoxicated men indulging in conversations over their food. The royal family and their honourable guests had been dining at the platformed table backed by a wall, watching dancers and musicians perform as course after delicious course was served. Rhaenys had been oddly placed next to her mother, five seats away from Robb, but that had not prevented them from stealing as many glimpses of each other as they possibly could. Audrei had visited Rhaenys multiple times throughout the evening, sharing hushed whispers about how handsome the Northerner was even though he still wore the beard and dirt from his horse ride to the capital, and Robb could tell by the shy looks and giggles that Audrei was fondly talking about him. He was well aware that women were often sweet on him, one of the few qualities he shared with Theon, but he had never chosen to act on any impulses. Now that his wedding night was near, he was beginning to wonder if he had been foolish and wouldn’t know where to start with the Dornish beauty that would be awaiting him.

The shifting of Catelyn next to Robb interrupted his embarrassing trail of thought and he looked up to see his parents standing and holding hands. He raised his eyebrows at his father, only to have him lean down by his side.

“Ask her to dance,” he said gently before walking around the table with Catelyn and demonstrating what he wanted his son to do. As Robb watched Eddard hold Catelyn close and then gracefully spin her in the cleared space before their table, a pang of anxiety hit him. He took in a deep breath in attempt to calm himself, then peeked at Rhaenys and her father, only to see them smiling as they watched the merry couple. Robb finished his mug of ale and then stood, crossing before his king and queen and stopping before the princess. He clasped his hands behind his back and kept his back as straight as possible, abiding by the etiquette he had been taught from a young age and trying to not be distracted by her lovely questioning gaze.

“Your Highness, would you like to dance?” Robb proposed and Rhaenys’ lips parted for a toothy smile.

“Of course,” she agreed, standing and running a hand down the back of her dress to smooth out any crinkles that might have been made during the long feast. Rhaenys gracefully walked past her younger brother and rounded the table to meet Robb, taking his offered hand and allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. Though he was almost trembling with fear that he would make a mistake, after a quick glance at his parents Robb was able to calm himself and find his sense of confidence. Keeping his hand clasped to hers, Robb gently placed his other on her waist and was relieved when she returned the gesture by placing a delicate hand atop his shoulder. After sharing a smile, Robb lead the dance and they began to glide across the floor as though they had already danced many times together.

“I have been wanting to say since the moment I first saw you that you look absolutely stunning,” Robb said to break the silence and a flattered grin light up Rhaenys’ face.

“Thank you.”

“Did you have your dress specially made for today?” Robb continued before she could return the favour with a compliment herself, having received plenty of lessons from his parents recently on how he should attempt to impress the princess.

“Yes, actually. I am very impressed with the golden design,” she replied with a glance down at the bodice.

“It is very intricate,” Robb agreed. A slight panic washed over him as they fell silent and his mind raced for something else to say to her.

“You are good at dancing. I was told that Northerners were heavy on their feet, but you dance with an elegance from the south,” Rhaenys said with a hint of a tease and Robb chuckled.

“I have been taught well,” he admitted, looking across at his parents who were now lost in each other’s eyes.

“They are lovely together,” Rhaenys said quietly and Robb diverted his attention back to her, feeling once again nervous that he was before his future wife.

“They are an inspiration to me,” he admitted and Rhaenys grinned, glad to hear that there was hope that she could have a loving marriage instead of taking after her own parents’ relationship. She gripped onto his shoulder tighter and focused on finding out more about the courteous man that would soon be her husband.


The next morning Robb and Eddard met with Rhaegar to further discuss the wedding and politics of the union. Because of the presence of the Kingsguard, Jon and Theon were dismissed as the Starks’ guards and were given time off to explore King’s Landing until noon. After venturing through the market together, Theon headed towards a brothel and Jon wandered aimlessly until he found himself in an arena where soldiers were sparring. He took a seat and watched the men fight, taking note of interesting techniques to look out for and weak spots to hit if the time came. A couple of Dornish guards, dressed in the oranges of the desert, trained off to one side with spears and Jon focused in on them with intrigue. They exhibited a completely different style of fighting with their unique weapon, all so agile as they seemingly danced with the spear and pretended to slice their opponent. To get a closer look, Jon shifted to a front row seat at the arena and leaned over the balcony’s stone wall, his dark eyes darting around as he admired their style. One man noticed Jon’s interest and left the group to stand beneath the audience stand.

“Come and join us!” he called up to Jon, who hesitated with uncertainty on how to respond. “What’s your weapon of choice?”

“A sword.”

“There will no doubt be one lying about somewhere,” the man continued and Jon looked around at the others who were sparring. The last thing he wanted to do was show an enemy what he could do, and where his weaknesses lied. “You clearly have not seen spear fighting like this before. Would it not be good for a soldier like you to learn the ways of a spear in case he faces an enemy with one?” A smirk crossed the Dornishman’s face and Jon nodded, unable to argue. He made his way down into the arena and the man handed him a blunt sword before leading him to the group. Jon’s eyes rested on a pair in the midst of a fight, one man shirtless and barring his spear defensively against the one wearing a helmet who was spinning through the air and delivering harsh blows. The masked warrior delivered a spinning kick with a leg covered by yellow harem pants the colour of sand, and the second soldier fell he was greeted by the tip of a spear blade hovering above his throat.

“Is he your best?” Jon wondered with a nod towards the victor who removed the spear and helped their friend to his feet.

“Possibly,” the Dornishman shrugged and Jon left his side to approach the faceless soldier.

“May we spar?” he offered and a nod was given, so Jon steadied himself for what he knew was going to be a thrilling fight. Without warning, the soldier suddenly twirled and the spear was flung at him. Jon quickly raised his sword and blocked the attack, pushing the spear away from his body before swinging his blade at the lower torso. His opponent shoved their hips backwards to avoid the first attack, then poised the spear before them to stop the second one. Jon’s blade slammed into the strong shaft of the spear and he grinned, already impressed by the spar. The thrill continued, both contenders seemingly taking turns at delivering an attack, until eventually the spear was swept low across the dirt and slammed into Jon’s boots. Shocked and distracted, Jon didn’t see the spear shift higher until it was too late and he surrendered by dropping the sword. The spear was lowered from his chest and Jon grinned, already wanting to participate in another spar to try his luck once more.

“You faired well,” the warrior said, their voice muffled by the helmet but bearing a definite lightness and femininity. Jon’s brow creased and he quickly flicked his eyes over his opponent’s body, but the armour covered their chest and the loose pants kept any curves hidden. The helmet was then removed and Rhaenys ran a hand through her hair to allow her curls to sit properly.

“Y- Your Highness,” Jon stammered as he fell to one knee, stunned by the revelation.

“I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your name, my lord,” Rhaenys said before gesturing for him to stand.

“I’m Jon Snow, personal guard to Lord Robb Stark,” Jon answered as he rose, attempting to politely correct her that he was not a lord.

“What a fine guard you are, being defeated by a girl,” she teased lightly and Jon bashfully lowered his eyes.

“I have never fought against someone wielding a spear before. I have only ever sparred with Northerners.”

“Well you had better learn the new styles quickly. I couldn’t have anyone harming my betrothed,” Rhaenys remarked and Jon heard a slight hesitation in her voice.

“I wouldn’t even dream of that happening, Princess,” Jon said, stiffening at the thought of harm coming to his half-brother.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she smiled kindly before looking across at the man who had invited Jon to join. “You should spar with Marq; he will no doubt teach you plenty about spear fighting.” Marq bowed his head at Rhaenys as she placed her helmet beneath her arm, resting it on her hip.

“And what of you?” Jon wondered.

“I have finished my training for the day. I must do more lady-like things now,” she said before chuckling to herself at the madness of the non-Dornish ways. “I must beg my leave, Jon Snow. It was an honour to meet you.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jon said with a short bow of his head. She smiled as she turned towards the exit of the arena, and it was then that Jon noticed the two Kingsguards who stood as sentries with their focus on Rhaenys. “If I may ask just one thing, Your Highness?”

“Yes?” she called over her shoulder, pausing and enjoying the cool breeze that was coming from the bay.

“Why wear a helmet?” Jon questioned the peculiar item for sparring, especially since none of the other Dornish soldiers were wearing one.

“My trainer told me to always wear one, so I always do,” she replied before giving a nod of dismissal and walking over to the Kingsguards.