Of Schemes and Kisses

Boots thundered down the hall and sped into the Grand Maester’s patient room that housed an ill Sansa, two Kinsguard posted outside who didn’t dare stop the pair of young men. Robb hurried to Sansa’s bedside while Jon paused by the doorway, relieved to see that his half-sister was still breathing and not wanting to interrupt the family moment that Robb now completed. Catelyn was holding Sansa’s hand on the opposite side of the bed and Eddard had placed a firm but comforting hand on her shoulder, though it hadn’t stopped her from weeping over Sansa’s injury. Shortly after being shifted to the room, Sansa had fallen unconscious. After Oberyn had arrived, Tyene by his side, they had quickly determined that a poison was involved and they were currently in the room next door, noisily shuffling around bottles of concoctions in hope of finding an antidote to save Sansa.

“Gods… What happened?” Robb finally breathed, his eyes fixated on the bloodied cloth above her abdomen.

“A man entered the fitting room and went straight for her, stabbing her once before fleeing,” Rhaenys answered when no one else spoke. She approached his side with caution, uncertain if he would want her comfort or not.

“This dress… It surely is not hers?” he asked.

“No, it was mine,” Rhaenys admitted, pulling a stool over so she could sit with him. “She loved my wedding dress so much that I let her try it on.” The corners of Robb’s lips flickered upwards for a brief second before collapsing back into the frown of worry.

“You said the attacker went straight for Sansa?” Jon asked, everyone turning to face him with an expression of confusion.

“Yes, absolutely. He didn’t even look at me, or make a move for Daenerys or Margaery either,” Rhaenys replied and Eddard’s face lit up with understanding.

“Sansa wasn’t the target,” he stated and Jon nodded, glad that he had not spoken out of line for no reason. “The man would have received orders to attack the woman in the white wedding dress.” Rhaenys’ heart skipped a beat and her gaze settled on Sansa’s face, even paler than usual, as she comprehended that it should have been her lying there dying.

“This is my fault…” she breathed, tears welling. Robb placed a hand atop hers and Jon looked to the floor, both the sight of the couple and Sansa sickening him.

“How could you have possibly known?” Robb said quietly as he gave her hand a squeeze. “Do not burden yourself with blame.”

“Rhaenys, how many people know of what dress you planned to wear?” Eddard questioned and she pried her gaze from Robb’s sweet blue eyes to look at his father.

“Well, Daenerys and Margaery, and Sansa saw it today,” she answered, pausing to think of who else she had told. “My father does not know, nor my mother or brother… My lady in waiting Audrei knows, as well as the seamstresses, of course.”

“That’s a short list,” Eddard remarked and Catelyn looked up to him, tearing her eyes away from her daughter for the first time since she had arrived in the room.

“Are you saying…?” she breathed, now fearing for her son’s life as well.

“Someone close to Rhaenys organised this,” Jon concluded, speaking when his father failed to voice the words everyone was coming to realise. Rhaenys tore her hand from Robb’s to cover her face, terrified and full of remorse.

“This is the third time that someone has attempted to stop this wedding by targeting me,” Rhaenys whispered from behind trembling hands.

“Out of the way! Move!” Oberyn shouted as he sprinted into the room, Robb leaping to his feet and regretting that he had no idea how to provide comfort to Rhaenys. She too shifted out of her uncle’s way and saw him remove the lid from a jar, revealing a green paste.

“What is that?” Catelyn questioned the bizarre looking substance while Oberyn removed the bloodied cloth from Sansa’s abdomen.

“Something that should help her,” he replied before smoothing the remedy across the wound, trying his best to not rub it in too much and cause more damage. Tyene then entered and approached Eddard, offering him a vial.

“She must drink this if she wakes,” she instructed and Eddard nodded as he took the bottle. After Oberyn had finished, he rinsed his hands with water and then Rhaenys caught his eye, shuddering by herself in the corner of the room. He approached her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, Rhaenys crashing her wet face into his chest at the first opportunity.

“What is it?” he whispered, rubbing her back. “We have a solution, she should recover.” Rhaenys sobbed uncontrollably and both Jon and Robb frowned, feeling helpless.

“It’s my fault… The assassin came for me, not her, and someone in the Red Keep sent him,” she confessed and Oberyn looked to Eddard for confirmation and received a nod.

“Then I will hunt the person who dared to come after you and show them how poison is used properly,” Oberyn said with a growl, his voice low enough that only Rhaenys heard him. She gripped onto him tighter, wishing that she could travel back in time to when she was living in Dorne with him and she was safe.


Margaery snuck into the back of the brothel and wove unseen through the hallways until she reached Petyr’s office. She didn’t bother knocking and he only became aware of her presence when the door clicked behind her. Petyr turned from the book he was immersed in at his desk and his stomach began to jitter when he saw Margaery’s face. It was ever so beautiful, something she could not help, but it was slightly blemished by her scowl. She was disappointed, enraged but in control, and Petyr was well aware that he was about to suffer from her wrath.

“Where do you find your assassins, Baelish?” she questioned, her tone as bitter as her face.

“Apparently in all the wrong places,” he replied with a grimace. After two failed attempts, he was wondering why the well-paid men were unable to complete their task.

“How is it possible for a man to mistake Sansa Stark, a pasty white girl with hair as orange as fire, for Rhaenys Targaryen, a princess who is as dark as all of the Dornish?” Margaery spat, the error absolutely ludicrous to her.

“I could make the excuse that he was from Essos, or that he simply followed his instructions of striking the target in the white dress, but I am guessing that you are not interested in that,” Petyr stated. “You were the one who specifically said that the princess would be fitted in a white dress. If anything, I should be questioning you about a lack of correct information.”

“I did not know that she was going to bond with the Stark girl and swap dresses with her,” Margaery said, crossing her arms.

“But you could have attempted to stop it. You knew the man was coming today,” Petyr countered, softening Margaery’s anger momentarily.

“Regardless, this is yet another time you have failed me. How difficult can it be to stop a wedding?” she said with a shake of her head.

“We both know that Rhaenys is stubborn. We should have anticipated a reluctance to be defeated,” Petyr remarked and Margaery snickered.

“Is there a way to use that against her? Her defiance against her father? Her behaviour is not that of a princess, nor is it of someone who might become a queen one day,” she justified, wincing on the word ‘queen’ because she knew that she deserved that title far more than Rhaenys did.

“Believe me, I have been trying. The realm is rather content with her unusual side.”

“I cannot believe how quickly the whore situation died down,” Margaery pointed out and Petyr nodded, standing from his chair and shifting to look out the window. He peeled back the privacy curtain and checked for any suspicious behaviour before letting it fall closed.

“That was supposed to drown her, and yet Robb and his family dismissed it. What else am I supposed to throw at her if people are so accepting of her?” Petyr muttered and Margaery shrugged, uncertain.

“More assassins?” she suggested and Petyr raised his eyebrows.

“Because that is going so well,” he said with a chuckle.

“Surely they can’t all fail…”

“I’m not particularly optimistic, my queen. She is highly defended, and that Snow boy is doing his job better than I would have liked him to be,” Petyr countered.

“Well, is it possible to target the Starks instead? Could we make Rhaegar cancel the plans by making him think that the Starks aren’t as trustworthy as everyone claims they are?” Margaery wondered and Petyr looked away, remembering his deal with Viserys to leave the Stark’s reputation alone.

“She will still be a thorn in your side,” Petyr pointed out but Margaery gave a short shrug.

“If the honourable Starks refuse to wed their son to her, then why should anyone else trust Rhaenys? I would expect her to become undesirable to other eligible men,” she replied and Petyr nodded, seeing her side to things.

“I must confess, I have other arrangements to leave the Starks alone and-”

“How much?” Margaery interrupted calmly.

“Pardon, my queen?”

“How much is he paying you to do so?” she clarified and Petyr hesitated.

“Enough,” he said, thinking of Catelyn.

“Can I pay more?”

“I doubt that. He is offering something rather priceless.”

“Then what is something priceless that I can offer? You know that I am prepared to do almost anything to become queen,” Margaery reminded him and he grinned.

“I know, and you will become queen, I promise you that. But I cannot harm the Starks as much as you require, and hence I don’t think I can help you,” Petyr explained but Margaery was determined to have him finish off her dirty work for her.

“What if you only targeted the eldest, Robb?” she suggested, though Petyr did not perk up at the idea. “If he was to do something… I don’t know what, but something that showed he was disloyal to Rhaenys so she and her father disapproved and hopefully rejected him, then it would prove that they have a poorly raised firstborn. But they still have Sansa as a bargaining chip. No doubt they brought her to King’s Landing for a reason…”

“Do you think they are that sly? To bring a secondary option to get themselves into the royal bloodline if Robb was somehow unsuccessful?” Petyr wondered, not entirely convinced.

“Sansa could easily be here for that sole purpose, to catch Aegon’s eye,” Margaery said and Petyr smirked as he found a flaw in her plan.

“But she is on her deathbed,” he stated.

“Then we pray that she lives,” Margaery countered. “If she survives, can you plot against Robb or not? I will not accept a failure to stop this wedding.” Petyr paused while he considered his options. If he accepted then he was threatening his ties to Viserys, who he had already angered by sending an assassin after Rhaenys. He was not eager to push the boundary even further, but he was also aware that Margaery was a woman he should not mess about. Realising that it was up to him to conjure a plan where he subtly interfered with Robb and hence satisfied Margaery and kept Viserys at bay, Petyr nodded to Margaery.

“I believe I can help you,” he agreed. “If Sansa recovers, then I will ruin Robb’s reputation.”


Jon sat on the floor opposite a standing Kingsguard who held himself tall and proud outside Rhaenys’ chambers. He was cradling in his palms the spear brooch, ensuring his fingers kept the object hidden from the other man. It was providing him with comfort, tracing the etchings and being reminded of the times he had sparred with Rhaenys, in particular the time at the water’s side when they had kissed. He craved her attention and affection, and it hurt to see her developing a relationship with Robb instead. Although Jon had always been tossed to the side and watched as Robb was chosen over him by everyone in their lives, he had felt as though Rhaenys was different. He had had hope that for once Robb would not win over him, but now Jon wondered just how absurd that idea was. At the sound of approaching steps, Jon looked up and saw Robb. He quickly stashed the brooch back into his pocket.

“How is she?” he called out when Robb was near enough.

“She woke long enough for father to give her the potion Prince Oberyn provided,” Robb replied before coming to a stop by his sitting brother, the Kingsguard who trailed him halting a few steps behind. “How can you guard if you are not on your feet?”

“I can’t stop thinking about Sansa,” Jon muttered in response, though it was partly a lie.

“I just told you she is doing well, so have hope,” Robb insisted before glancing at Rhaenys’ closed doors. “Besides, you should be looking out for Rhaenys. What if someone attempts to attack her again?” Jon stiffened at Robb’s words.

“No one will enter her room, I swear it,” he countered, jaw tight with anger.

“Aside from me. I wish to speak with her now. Is she currently occupied?” Robb questioned and Jon shook his head.

“Even her lady in waiting, Audrei, has left. I believe she wishes to be alone,” he replied, hoping that Robb would leave and not continue to charm Rhaenys. Robb nodded to acknowledge his words but still stepped to the door and rapped his knuckles against them.

“Your Highness, it’s Robb. May I enter?” he shouted, attempting to keep some formality before the Kingsguard who he knew would report back to the king. He heard some movement from behind the door and then it clicked open, revealing Rhaenys’ sad face.

“Good evening,” she said and Robb bowed his head.

“Good evening,” he replied. “I would like to have a word with you, in private, if you have a moment.” Rhaenys searched his face and only found sincerity, so she stepped to the side and cracked the door open further, allowing him to enter. As Robb walked past her, she noticed Jon on the floor, staring at his clasped hands in his lap.

“How are you, Jon?” she asked and he lifted his gaze, surprised that she was addressing him in front of the two Kingsguards.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied and Rhaenys’ brow crinkled at the hint of bitterness in his tone. She nodded and backed away, preparing to close the door because she understood that she was not wanted.

“I am sorry,” Rhaenys said before closing the door, turning to face Robb with an even more sorrowful expression than she had worn just moments ago.

“It is not your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself,” Robb said to break the silence while Rhaenys walked towards her bed. Her guilt was written all over her face, and he could see how much the incident was eating away at her.

“I don’t believe you can convince me to stop, so you had better want to speak of something else,” she replied as she sat on the edge of her bed. Robb joined her side with caution, uncertain if she desired his presence or would prefer to be left alone.

“I did wish to let you know that Sansa woke briefly and was able to drink the liquid your uncle provided. Her face has already regained some colour,” he informed her and she gave a short smile that was full of pain.

“That is good to hear.” Sensing that she was not taking in the positives, Robb resisted a sigh and decided to persist.

“If it was not for you and your quick thinking to summon your uncle and cousin, she would probably be dead by now. No doubt my parents will thank you in person, but I need you to hear it from me that I am incredibly grateful for your aid as well as your safety,” he said and Rhaenys shook her head. “What is it?”

“Those things cannot possibly make up for the danger I put your sister in. I still cannot process the whole situation properly, but I cannot take my mind off it or forgive myself,” she explained and Robb nodded, feeling as though he understood even though he had not been in a similar situation himself.

“Perhaps I could take your mind off it?” he proposed and Rhaenys glanced up at him, uncertain of what exactly he was suggesting.

“How?”

“Well at the feast in honour of your uncle, we never got a chance to dance together. You enjoy dancing, don’t you?” Robb asked and Rhaenys frowned.

“We have no music, no joyous celebration, no-” Rhaenys stopped talking because Robb swooped off the side of the bed into a kneeling position, offering his hand with a charming liveliness in his eyes and smile.

“Rhaenys, would you give me the honour of dancing with me?” he asked. A smile crept across her lips and she lowered her hand into his. They rose together and Robb slid his arm around her waist, pulling her in closer than usual but still keeping a short gap between them. Rhaenys’ breath hitched in her throat as she felt his breath on her face, wondering how they had gone so long without being intimate. Robb rocked her side to side, making small turns as he did so, the absence of fast paced music allowing him to take his time and create a softer moment between them.

“I feel better already, thank you,” Rhaenys whispered. Many of her worries were being sent to the back of her mind as she focused on relaxing with Robb, and a meaningful smile was working its way onto her face and brightening her eyes.

“You are very welcome,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Would you be able to comfort me like this when we are wed too?”

“Yes,” Robb answered quickly. “I would do anything you ask of me.” Rhaenys’ smile widened and Robb leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He paused, lingering when he noticed Rhaenys’ smile disappear, anxious that he had stepped out of line. She tilted her chin upwards and pressed her lips against Robb’s, proving him otherwise and momentarily freezing him with surprise. He then kissed her back and Rhaenys responded positively, leaning in further and gradually adding more passion into her initially hesitant kiss. Robb tightened his grip on her waist and their bodies pressed together, triggering Rhaenys to pull out of the kiss, aware that they were not yet married and she did not want to lose control and embarrass herself. They stayed close to each other, neither willing to move away, and Rhaenys eventually shifted forwards to embrace Robb, wishing for the first time that they were already wed.