Of Schemes and Kisses

Aegon rolled the pair of dice across the wooden board and grinned as a total of five was shown. He shifted his playing piece forwards five spaces and then locked eyes with his big sister, both of them aware that he had the opportunity to gain a large advantage in the game.

“I will purchase the taverns,” he announced, returning ten of his coin pieces to the bank’s pile. Rhaenys held in a growl of disappointment and instead focused on the joyful memory of the game from their childhood. Had this had happened in their early days of playing, Aegon would have been shouting with delight and throwing his hands in the air, and Rhaenys probably would have shoved the playing board and its pieces onto the floor, the main reason why they were all chipped. Years later and they had both matured greatly, but still got such enjoyment from sharing a game of Knights and Peasants together. Rhaenys scooped up the dice and shook them in her hands, scanning the board and trying to plot her next move.

“I have to roll an eight,” she commented with a heavy heart.

“It won’t happen. You know that the odds are low,” Aegon pointed out and Rhaenys threw the dice, only scoring a four. “Told you! You are going to move right past the wedding space and I won’t have to give a single coin to you!” He laughed as he gathered the dice and prepared for his next turn. Rhaenys pushed her token along four squares with a frown and left a knight piece behind.

“I might get another four,” she said even though she didn’t believe that she would have enough luck to roll a four again.

“Speaking of weddings…” Aegon trailed off and his dark purple eyes met her brown pair. “Are you still scared about yours?” He tossed the dice and Rhaenys diverted her gaze to her lap. Her little brother was the only one she had confided in and he had been surprisingly and pleasantly mature about it, offering her advice and comfort when she had needed it and not running to tell their father.

“Not as much,” she admitted as her brother shifted his token forwards and paid a coin for tax.

“Is your betrothed what you expected, what you want?”

“So far he has not let me down…” Rhaenys confessed but her brother noticed the hesitation.

“But…?” Aegon wondered as he brushed a hand through his hair that was as white as their father’s. His classic Targaryen features had long made Rhaenys jealous, but she knew that beneath his olive skin he was similar to her and that was what mattered the most.

“But I do not know if we are a good fit for each other yet. How can I possibly know if Robb and I can be as happy as his parents are together? If we can fall in love and live a happy life?” Rhaenys asked, speaking as though she was talking to herself and not expecting a response. When she did not take the dice to have her turn, Aegon realised that she did desire an answer and he contemplated the situation.

“Would you like a lecture on how royal marriages are not for love?” he suggested and Rhaenys glared at him.

“Father has already given me that talk,” she sighed.

“Good. That means that all there is left for me to say is that Robb seems like a good man, so you should embrace that and put effort into your relationship. That way everyone can have what they want,” Aegon concluded and Rhaenys lifted her gaze with a wince.

“Do you think it is possible? Is there a way for me to be content with this arrangement?”

“Of course! I believe that the only one who is going to prevent that from happening is you,” he said before chuckling to himself.

“What?” Rhaenys wondered, tilting her head to the side and squinting her eyes as she tried to read Aegon.

“You don’t realise how lucky you are, do you?” he replied and Rhaenys remained quiet, letting his words sink in. Eventually she collected the dice and scattered them across the board, astonishingly rolling a total of four. Rhaenys slowly shifted her token onto the wedding square and Aegon offered her a caring smile as well as six of his wooden coins.


As the two young women walked through the gardens, Margaery laced her am around Daenerys’. It was a gesture that Daenerys loathed, an unwelcome warm touch from a cold person she knew was in her life for all the wrong reasons, but she put up with it nonetheless to keep her appearance strong.

“What a perfect day for a stroll amongst the flowers,” Margaery remarked, breaking the silence between them. After inviting Daenerys on the walk she had remained quiet until now, when she had noted that the eavesdropping gardeners were finally out of earshot.

“What do you want, Margaery?” Daenerys said and Margaery halted immediately, turning to face the silver haired woman.

“Are the spies far away enough?”

“Yes. Yours?” Daenerys replied as she watched Margaery’s eyes scanning the view over her shoulders. It had become somewhat of a routine for their discussions, ensuring that they remained private.

“Your brother mentioned something last night that I found curious.”

“And what was that?”

“He brought it to my attention that you have not yet been wed. I had not thought twice of it until now, but I see his point,” Margaery began and Daenerys clenched her fists, wondering why Viserys was entrusting his wife with their plans. “Just because Rhaenys is older than you does not mean she is entitled to marriage before you.”

“I know.”

“Then why have you failed to find a suitor?” Margaery pried with genuine concern and interest. Daenerys exhaled, seeing no reason to lie if Margaery could possibly help her.

“It is not me. Rhaegar has not sent me word of any proposals, and if I bring up the subject he dismisses it,” she answered, a frown creasing Margaery’s face.

“You are more than deserving of a fine husband. Perhaps you should suggest a suitor yourself,” she said, pausing before feigning an expression of delight and surprise. “I know, what about Loras, my brother? He is incredibly handsome, chivalrous, has a kind heart, and then we would be even closer! True sisters!”

“As pleasant as your brother is, please do not take offence when I say that I doubt that Rhaegar would want to have another union with your family when he could instead strengthen his relationship with another,” Daenerys countered, Margaery immediately seeing the fault that she knew Rhaegar would agree with. The second marriage would, however, see her house gain more authority for when she attempted to take the throne for herself.

“Who do you suggest you wed instead then?” Margaery wondered, resisting the urge to smile as Daenerys’ face fell. “I know that Renly Baratheon is unwed, but there are rumours about him favouring men rather than woman… Or perhaps you would have to settle for the Lannister imp who spends his time whoring and drinking.”

“I will not end up with a man like that, like either of them,” Daenerys insisted.

“Then with who? Who other than my brother is worthy of your hand?” Margaery asked and her stomach dropped with anxiety when she saw Daenerys smirk, indicating that she was already in the middle of her own plan.

“Another man,” she said simply before reaching out and gently touching Margaery’s arm. “It was nice talking with you, but I must be on my way. Send my regards to your brother.” Margaery watched the blonde’s retreating back and her face stiffened, disappointed and flustered that her plan had failed. She returned to indoors and wandered the halls around the council chambers until she eventually crossed paths with Petyr.

“Still in progress. Give me time,” he muttered as he passed her by, not meeting her eyes. Margaery forced herself to inhale deeply and tried to think calming thoughts, feeling more confident that things would fall into place if she could have patience.


“It’s just a little further,” Rhaenys insisted as she stumbled down the steep grassy slope. Jon followed, his nervousness a mixture of reluctance but also intrigue, and he did his best to not admire the way the sun lit up her olive skin or the way she giggled and used her spear to steady herself whenever she slipped a little. The more time he spent with the princess, the more he knew he was falling into deep trouble. His surfacing feelings were inappropriate but difficult to mask, especially when Rhaenys gave him what he read as positive signals. Her smiles, the acceptance of his bastard name, the embrace for rescuing her from the spider, whether all intentional or simply her kind nature, were drawing Jon in. The red and orange of her dress disappeared around a rocky face and Jon followed, surprised to find a tiled flat space at the water’s edge. The bay’s waves wet the worn tiles on one side, and grass was beginning to worm its way through the cracks, proving that the area was long unused despite its beautiful location.

“This is a nice place,” Jon remarked as he noted the cliff that enclosed the area, rendering them unseen to anyone if they were to pass by but also causing any assailants to remain invisible until the last moment. “What was this space once used for?” Rhaenys smiled as she paused to look out at the bay.

“I was told that my ancestor of the same name would dine here on fine days to relax. Now I come here to relax too,” she answered before regaining her focus and taking a good grip on the shaft of her spear, spreading her legs into a balanced stance. “Let’s begin.” Jon just stared blankly at her.

“Begin what?”

“Sparring,” she stated as if the answer was clear.

“I don’t have a blunt sword. I could hurt you,” he pointed out as he sat his hand atop the hilt of his sword, unwilling to use it.

“And my spear is sharp too. Let’s go,” Rhaenys persevered and Jon searched for another excuse, finding one as he took in the red and orange dress she was wearing that gathered in ways that exaggerated her breasts and waist.

“You are in a dress.”

“I am practicing for if someone attacks me when I am being a princess and you and the Kingsguard fail to protect me,” she said before laughing. Jon cracked a smile too but still did not want to be faulted if he accidentally injured her.

“You have no helmet,” he said and finally Rhaenys’ eyes enlarged.

“Then I trust you to not swing there,” she replied, the apprehension in her voice evident.

“Do you still wish to proceed?”

“Yes.” Jon saw no other way out of the situation so he drew his sword, twirling it once before also readying himself. Rhaenys grinned and spun her spear around, the move requiring much less effort and appearing far more graceful than Jon and his bulky sword ever would.

“Show off,” he teased and then she lurched forwards. The two engaged in a fast-paced combat, spending no time warming up, just as though they were fighting for their lives. Jon took extra caution to keep his sword low and he always backed away from her when he had the chance instead of directing an attack at her. Rhaenys noticed and grunted with dissatisfaction.

“Don’t be careful; attack properly!” she growled as she attempted a weak jab, trying to provoke him to swing his sword with meaning.

“You don’t have a helmet,” Jon said as he once again refused to raise his sword too high.

“It’s not a proper fight if you only aim from the ribs down!” Rhaenys countered. She sent her spear close to Jon’s head and he lifted his sword up to defend, but then immediately lowered it again. “Jon! Go higher!”

“No!”

“Do it!” she screeched as she swung hard, Jon easily avoiding the elevated attack by ducking.

“No!” Rhaenys had acted impulsively and Jon took advantage of her mistake. He put her on the defence and hit hard and fast, albeit low, making Rhaenys back away in attempt to regain her momentum. Just as she became aware that she was too close to the cliff, Rhaenys stood on a fallen stone and she lost her balance. As she fell backwards, Jon clashed his sword into her spear and it was knocked from her grasp, leaving her defenceless and with her back pressed against the uneven rocks. Jon stood before her, heaving as he stared her down, a part of him angered by her reckless demands. Her chest also rose and fell rapidly, mostly from the fight but she knew that part of the reason why her blood was racing was because of Jon. His sudden power and assertiveness was refreshing, and she tilted her head backwards to rest it on the rocks, giving in to him if he desired. Rhaenys watched as Jon’s eyes skimmed over her face, taking in her features and settling on her lips a few times, and then she grew tired of waiting.

“Do it,” she repeated, this time in a low, sultry voice instead of yelling.

“Do what?” Jon breathed as he met her dark eyes.

“Just do it,” Rhaenys said but Jon did not move, as though he was playing dumb. “Do you think I don’t see the way you look at me? The way you soften when we are together? If you want a taste, take it, I-“ Her words were cut short as Jon finally moved in. He initially pressed urgently against her lips, dropping his sword and becoming lost for a few moments, but then he relaxed his touch as it sunk in what he was doing. Rhaenys arched her back, pushing herself off the rocks and into Jon, craving more and attempting to seduce him in ways that whores had done to her, but he pulled away. She opened her eyes to see his panicking expression before he turned, walking away and tugging his hands through his hair with annoyance.

“What have I done…?” Rhaenys heard him mutter the words to himself and understood his confusion, feeling it herself. She bent down and picked up their weapons, holding his sword by the blade and tapping his arm with the hilt.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said quietly, sensing that it would only make things worse if they tried to clarify what had just happened. Jon glanced down and saw the sword by his side, feeling an urge to grab his weapon and run to Robb to confess his disgraceful action. Seeing the uncertainty in his eyes, Rhaenys felt the need to further console him. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear it. It did not happen.” Upon hearing those words, Jon accepted his sword and turned to face her, surprised to see her composure intact. She slid a foot across the ground and crouched into a battle stance, holding her spear in a defensive position and the two went back to sparring as if they had not just shared an intimate moment. Neither of them wanted to stop, despite tiring bodies and minds, as the fear of talking loomed over their heads. Eventually the sparring became fun once more, the troublesome kiss temporarily forgotten about, and laughs were soon heard over the crashing of the waves.

“Rhaenys!” a voice called and the two ceased fighting. Elia was hurrying across the weathered tiles to her daughter, relief washing over her. “Your father is so worried about you he is about to send all of his guards to search the city!”

“Your Grace,” Jon mumbled, shocked that out of all of the people who could have found them it was the queen.

“Why?” Rhaenys wondered with a creased brow.

“You have been missing for half of the day!” Elia replied and Rhaenys and Jon looked to the sky, finally noticing that the sun was not far away from setting. They then looked back at each other and Rhaenys began laughing, Jon only managing a smile in front of the queen.

“I did not notice, mother, my apologies,” Rhaenys said and Elia pursed her lips.

“You are lucky that he let me try to find you first, otherwise the whole city would have been in hysteria. Come, the both of you. We must let Rhaegar know that you are safe,” she said before turning and leading the pair back up the hill. Once up the grassy knoll, she let her daughter and her Northern guard walk in front of her back to the Red Keep, the Kingsguards remaining by her side. Elia closely watched Rhaenys as she talked with such spirit to Jon, discussing their sparring practice and laughing over the memories they had made together, and once they had returned to Rheagar and set his mind at ease, she rushed to the desk in her chambers. She pulled a piece of parchment from the drawer and hastily wrote a letter to her dear brother.

She is treading dangerous waters again. I fear that you are the only one who will be able to pull her from them. Please come as soon as you can, before it is too late.

Elia stamped the letter, sealing it shut with a dragon embedded in the deep red wax, then hurried to the raven’s tower. She selected one of the many ravens that travelled to her home of Sunspear and attached the note before tossing the bird from the tower, praying that she was not too late to rescue her beloved daughter.