Of Schemes and Kisses

Robb stood next to Rhaenys on the garden balcony that overlooked the bay. His hand had long ago slid across the stone to rest upon hers as they chatted throughout the warm evening, and he was glad that Rhaegar had permitted him a break from his lessons so he could take the opportunity to further know Rhaenys. The king had been busy preparing for a feast, though the occasion had not been made known to either Rhaenys or Robb, so they had both assumed that it was in their honour.

“What are feasts like in the North?” Rhaenys wondered while staring at the storm clouds that were coming in from the sea. The prospect of rain had reminded her of the colder North, a place that Robb always spoke so fondly of despite the idea of constant snow making Rhaenys uneasy.

“Similar to here, but we have a lot more meat available. And vegetables rather than fruit. I always find that I don’t have to eat much of the food before I feel warm and full,” Robb recalled with a soft smile as he missed his home.

“I suppose you would need that sort of food where it is so cold. I often use a juicy fruit to help cool myself down,” Rhaenys said, giving a short chuckle.

“As do I, now. I am still not used to such sun, and the ocean being so close-”

“Rhaenys!” At the sound of the familiar voice she had not heard for almost a year, Rhaenys turned and then filled with joy. She pulled away from Robb and ran up the steps to fling herself into welcoming arms.

“Uncle! What are you doing here?” she questioned with a massive grin, not wanting to let him go.

“My favourite niece is about to be wed; why else would I be here?” Oberyn replied before Rhaenys was ripped from his loving embrace.

“And you have come also!” Rhaenys exclaimed as she now attempted to hold her excited cousins Obara and Tyene.

“We missed you,” Obara said when they broke apart, Nymeria waiting her turn.

“Nym, you should not be here, my betrothed will leave me for your beauty,” Rhaenys remarked. She was not surprised to see that Nymeria was just as striking and strong as she had been the last time Rhaenys had seen her.

“I doubt it,” Nymeria replied before she gave Rhaenys a quick embrace.

“Is that him there?” Tyene asked and Rhaenys spun around, having temporarily forgotten about Robb.

“Oh, yes, it is. I will fetch him for you,” she said before scurrying down the stone steps to return to Robb. Jon was now standing by his side, discussing the arrival of the new Dornishmen, but they hushed as Rhaenys stopped before them with a wide grin and pure delight plastered across her face.

“I am guessing they are family,” Robb said and Rhaenys nodded.

“You know that uncle I cannot stop talking about? Well, that’s him, with three of his daughters who I also adore,” she explained and Robb glanced over her shoulder, his jaw stiffening as he looked at the people who meant a lot to Rhaenys.

“I don’t think I could possibly impress them enough,” he admitted, fearing that they would disapprove of his Northern ways and then Rhaenys would become less fond of him. Rhaegar was easy enough to impress, but the Dornish had a completely different culture and would no doubt be hesitant about accepting his Northern beliefs.

“They’ll love you, everyone does,” Jon pointed out and Robb gave a reluctant sigh, immediately feeling better when Rhaenys took his hand.

“You’ll be fine. Jon, come as well,” Rhaenys instructed and then she lead Robb up the steps to meet Oberyn halfway. “Prince Oberyn Martell, I have the honour of presenting to you Lord Robb Stark, my betrothed.” Rhaenys gently nudged Robb forwards, trying to keep some formality to the situation even though it was difficult around her uncle and cousins.

“Robb, it is nice to finally meet you,” Oberyn said as he extended his hand, Robb taking it in what he hoped was a powerful shake.

“And it is an honour to meet you. Rhaenys does not stop talking about you,” Robb smiled, hoping that his compliment would at least somewhat flatter the intimidating man and his daughters.

“Is that so?” Oberyn chuckled and Rhaenys smiled to acknowledge that it was true.

“She is passionate about her heritage,” Robb confirmed with a nod.

“And who is this?” Oberyn asked, tilting his head as he looked at Jon lingering behind the couple. Rhaenys turned and gestured for Jon to approach and he complied.

“This is Jon Snow, Robb’s brother and our guard,” she answered and Oberyn offered him a handshake as well, seeing past his last name just like everyone else who was present.

“I see. You must be honoured to protect a princess,” Oberyn said, Jon’s face showing no reaction.

“I am, my prince,” Jon agreed and Oberyn gave him a smile before looking back to Rhaenys.

“I know there is a feast to be held shortly in honour of our arrival. Perhaps Robb could escort my girls there while we have a talk,” he suggested and Rhaenys looked up to Robb.

“Would that be all right with you?” she asked, already guessing that he wouldn’t dare refuse.

“Of course. I will see you later,” Robb smiled before taking her hand to kiss it goodbye.

“No need to worry about taking Jon with you, Robb; they all know how to defend themselves,” Oberyn warned with a smirk before he headed in the opposite direction. Rhaenys followed, signalling to Jon to remain a good distance behind them to provide them with privacy.

“This is the utmost loveliest surprise,” Rhaenys gushed. “I had not expected you to arrive so early!”

“And I had not expected you to be infatuated with a man other than your betrothed,” Oberyn replied and Rhaenys halted in her tracks, mouth falling open and eyes enlarging with pure shock. Oberyn paused and glanced backwards at her, raising his thin eyebrows. “Don’t act so surprised; you know that I can read you like an open book.”

“But… How could you have possibly seen that? You have been here for a mere few moments!” Rhaenys exclaimed.

“It was obvious, to me. You spoke like your father as you introduced me to your betrothed, stiff with the proper poise and duty of a princess. There was a lack of fire behind your eyes,” Oberyn justified. Rhaenys tried to think back to the brief introductions but could not recall what he was speaking of.

“He is a good man. Robb is full of charm and has a kind heart, but…”

“There is always a but,” Oberyn agreed and Rhaenys grinned, recalling a few key moments from her time in Dorne.

“But he has not captivated me like another has,” she finished with a short shrug. Oberyn took a casual look over his shoulder to ensure that Jon was far enough behind them before he spoke again.

“His brother, though… That is dangerous water for you to be treading,” he remarked in a quieter voice and Rhaenys once again stopped walking from utter surprise.

“Am I truly that much of an open book?” she questioned and he grinned wickedly.

“Indeed. Tell me more. What exactly is going on? Do you need assistance?” Oberyn asked, hoping that she would confide in him.

“I fancy him, that’s all,” Rhaenys said, clasping her hands together as she tried to word her confession properly. “He is sweet, interesting, and brave enough to challenge my status as princess. I initially only desired to befriend Robb’s brother as I knew that would mean a lot to him, but I swear I did not intend to initiate… whatever it is that we have now.”

“It would seem to me as though the respect for looking past the labels of bastard and princess has developed into something more,” Oberyn commented and Rhaenys paused as she thought over his words.

“Perhaps… I feel as though there is so much more than respect between us, and I do not know what to do,” she admitted with a heavy heart. “What would be your advice? Who would you choose in my situation?”

“You should already know,” he replied but Rhaenys’ expression begged for an explanation. “I have been in your situation plenty of times during my life. Not officially betrothed, but the beginnings of plans to be wed.”

“I did not realise that,” Rhaenys remarked and Oberyn shrugged.

“It is not something I flaunt; I would prefer it that people thought I was a little undesirable to wed,” he said with a smirk. “I have always wanted to be wed to someone I love, and as a highborn I should have the opportunity to do that. It just so happens that I have fallen in love with a bastard and laws say that I cannot marry beneath me.”

“So you are saying that I should not attempt to be with Jon?”

“I am saying that instead of marrying, I keep my love by my side by other means. I keep everyone as happy as possible with my actions,” Oberyn replied and Rhaenys frowned. “What is it, dear? Not the answer you were expecting or hoping for?” She sighed and looked away to the bay, frustrated with her situation.

“No, it just makes it more confusing,” she answered. “Now I am even more torn by following my happiness or performing my duty.”

“Would you be unhappy if you were to wed your betrothed?” Oberyn wondered, Rhaenys’ eyes widening as she came to a realisation.

“No… I wouldn’t…” she breathed.

“I think you need to reconsider your future. It would appear as though there are two options, and you need to decide which is going to be the overall better path to go down,” Oberyn suggested and Rhaenys nodded.

“Yes, I agree,” she said with a nod.

“Whenever you need me, I will be here for you. Never forget that,” Oberyn said and Rhaenys lunged forwards, crashing into his chest for a comforting embrace.


“She has quite the entourage,” Theon remarked when Rhaenys entered the feast room with her uncle by her side. Theon had already approved of her attractive cousins who had entered earlier with Robb, and they appeared just as deadly as the renown Red Viper. “I suppose that explains why she’s so feisty.” Robb gritted his teeth while he watched Rhaenys approach her father and facilitate the meeting with Oberyn before Elia hurried over to embrace her brother.

“She is more of a Martell than a Targaryen, don’t you think?” Robb replied as the boisterous siblings reunited, happy to show their affection to others in the room.

“I can’t tell. I still haven’t had the pleasure of properly meeting her yet,” Theon snarled and Robb grinned.

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” he added as Jon joined them, glad to be relieved from his task of guarding Rhaenys because the entire Kingsguard were posted at the doors of the feast room.

“Robb, do you know if I have to stay for the feast?” Jon asked, keeping his voice low as he tried to prevent Theon from listening.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Robb wondered.

“Well, your mother for a start,” he answered with a quick glance across the room to where Eddard and Catelyn were standing arm in arm, watching on with smiles as Sansa spoke with Daenerys. “But Prince Oberyn, he keeps on giving me the strangest looks… I would feel uncomfortable to stay.”

“He’s giving you strange stares? That is bizarre,” Theon commented, proving that he was indeed being nosey and overhearing their conversation.

“I don’t know if I have the authority to dismiss you,” Robb admitted.

“I’m your personal guard, I’m sure you can,” Jon countered but Robb was still hesitant.

“Actually, no,” he decided and Jon’s eyes widened. “This feast is to celebrate family. You are staying because you are family too.” Jon’s brow creased, feeling helpless.

“This is the one and only time I will ever wish that you did not accept me,” he said with a grimace.

“Go change. Hurry,” Robb instructed and Jon turned, pouting as he failed to think of another way to excuse himself from the banquet. He strode to his chambers and swapped his armour for the traditionally formal leather vest over a dark shirt. Jon then splashed water across his face and over his hair, hastily tugging a brush through to try to flatten his curls. He put a few drops of cologne on, a tiny bottle of fragrance called ‘a snowy day’ that Theon had gifted him as a joke shortly after they had arrived in King’s Landing, and then stared at himself in the mirror. After deciding that he was the best he could possibly look, Jon returned to the chambers where the celebration was being held and noticed that everyone was beginning to take a seat at the gigantic table. Although he wished to sit close to Robb, Jon caught Catelyn’s eye and quickly took a seat far away from her instead, ending up next to Theon and across from the three Dornish sisters who had arrived with Oberyn. It was the one who was in the middle who caught Jon’s eye, standing out as the most beautiful and confident of the three, with her black hair pulled up into a long braid that sat over her shoulder. She smirked as one of the other sisters poured her wine, not taking her eyes off Jon when Obara poured him a glass of wine too. Nymeria gave the cup a nudge forwards, her strong stare too unnerving for Jon to dare to look away.

“Drink,” she instructed, her accented voice commanding but laced with a sweetness that Jon found intriguing. Instinctively he looked down the table to where Rhaenys was seated, as if he was seeking some form of approval from her to socialise with another guest, but she was busy being immersed in a private conversation with Robb, leaning in close to him and smiling with obvious adoration. Jon released the spear brooch he had been holding in his pocket for comfort and reached out to take the drink, tilting the cup to Nymeria before taking a good long swallow. During the feast Jon did his best to ignore all of the compliments that everyone was paying the betrothed pair, to forget about the disapproving way that Catelyn would glance down their end of the table as he and Theon drank with Nymeria and Tyene, and to dismiss the jealous glares Margaery was giving the queen. It was far easier to drink and laugh and tease the women across from him, to fit in amongst three other bastards, than it was to worry about the politics of the royal marriage, so that was what he did. And as the celebration came to a close, with drunken men taking their wives to bed and Robb escorting Rhaenys to her chambers, Jon met Nymeria’s eye and heard her unspoken offer. He stood and felt the metal brooch slide in his pocket. Jon’s hand clasped it, tracing the delicate carvings on the spear and remembering the moment that Rhaenys gave it to him. Despite their situation, he felt a sense of loyalty to her, and he turned his back on Nymeria to return to his chambers alone.


“Why they insisted on having a fitting the morning after a feast, I do not know,” Rhaenys muttered as her corset was pulled even tighter. It was partly surprising that the material could continue to squeeze around her body, but it was more painful than anything else.

“Having a little trouble? Are you gaining weight?” Daenerys teased from Rhaeny’s left, only to receive a glare as a response.

“You could always postpone it until tomorrow,” Margaery suggested while she slowly twirled before a long mirror, hoping to persuade the young princess into once again frustrating her father. Rhaenys felt no need to respond to either woman and instead turned to her right, spying Sansa standing away from the three princesses as a seamstress pinned a layer of her skirt into place.

“How are you finding your dress, Sansa?” Rhaenys asked, hoping that the timid girl would be better company than the jealous woman.

“Oh, uh, it’s very nice, Your Highness,” Sansa stammered over her words with surprise that she was finally being addressed.

“You are so lucky,” Rhaenys continued, stepping towards Sansa with her seamstress following behind, desperate to continue to fasten the corset of her wedding dress.

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness?” Sansa asked, puzzled as to why she was the lucky one.

“Please, call me Rhaenys, we’re almost family,” Rhaenys addressed first. “And because that fabric… It’s to die for. It’s unfortunate that green is not my colour otherwise I would have had a dress made from it.”

“Thank you… Rhaenys…” Sansa said with a blush, her gaze falling and focusing on the flowers that decorated the circular neck line. Rhaenys suddenly gasped and spun, shocking the other women as she slapped away the seamstress’ hand.

“That’s enough!” she snapped and the worker backed away, full of fear and panic. “Someone get this dress off me!” Rhaenys exhaled with frustration, wondering why things wouldn’t go smoothly for her wedding.

“Your dress has a beautiful design,” Sansa remarked with a feeble smile in attempt to cheer Rhaenys up.

“Do you think so?” she questioned, surprised that the shy girl approved of the cut that dove between her breasts and its risky strapless design.

“Yes, of course!” Sansa breathed before hesitating. “I’m not just saying that because you’re to marry my brother either. I truly think that you look gorgeous in it.” Rhaenys smiled, forgetting all about Daenerys and Margaery and their unpleasant company, and instead focused on the wide-eyed Sansa.

“Would you like to try it on?” she suggested and Sansa couldn’t prevent her jaw from dropping.

“Could I?” she scarcely said and Rhaenys chuckled, gently pushing Sansa towards the nearest dressing screen. They removed their dresses with a helping hand from a seamstress and while Rhaenys dressed back in her ordinary clothes, Sansa slipped into the ivory and gold wedding dress. She came out from behind the dressing screen full of confidence and the three princess cooed and showered her with compliments as she twirled for them, though only Rhaenys’ words were genuine.

“How does it feel?” Rhaenys asked.

“I feel like I’m a princess,” Sansa beamed. The happiness from the room was sucked dry when a hooded black figure leapt onto the balcony and ran inside. He sprinted straight for Sansa as all of the women screamed, and she could not escape his determined path. A dagger drew from its hilt and sliced through the white material and into Sansa’s abdomen just once before he sped from the room, the Kinsguard who rushed in unable to catch the man before he leapt off the balcony. The Kinsguard turned to Rhaenys for instructions but Rhaenys was hurrying to Sansa’s side, helping her to the floor and pressing her hand against the wound that was soaking the dress with red.

“Get help!” she screeched at the Kingsguard before repositioning her hand. As she did so, Rhaenys noticed the sticky yellow liquid on her palm and her jaw locked. “Get my uncle! Or one of my cousins! Hurry!” Despite her urgent tone she then turned back to Sansa and placed a reassuring smile on her face before repeating that she was going to be fine, hoping to somewhat soothe Sansa’s pain.