The Bastard Queen

1 of 2 Unfortunate Revelations

I was expecting quite the lecture. I was so sure that Rhaegar would go on and on about how my display was unladylike. So I made sure I enjoyed the hot bathe prepared for me to my fullest.

Today marked four days left of my personal freedoms and familiar faces.

We're going over the ceremony at the sept today; who stands where, what should happen when. Tedious to the point where someone has told me at exactly what speed I should be walking down the aisle. Ridiculous.

Though, I suppose for such a spectacle, you wouldn't want anything to go wrong.

We'd just about finished, the High Septon had left to go on to other businesses, thus leaving myself, Ned, Rhaegar, Oberyn, and Manfrey somewhat scattered throughout the main hall of the Great Sept. The Martells seemed to be lost in their own conversation, out on the highest step in the shadows of the crone.

I stood in the center of it, the flat pit meant for holding services and housing guests and onlookers. The Seven stood leaming from here, the masonry and architecture stunning and somehow hollow. I think they hold the royal weddings here to make you feel small. Whatever worth you had in yourself lessened after each step you took down towards the aisle and those who came in search of a show. And those final grand steps taken towards the altar, upwards, to remind you that a woman's worth is in her husband.

I should have demanded that northern wedding, or better yet be carried up a river in a flower boat like some of the smallfolk in the Riverlands do.

"We haven't had a chance to talk about yesterday, privately."

Who else would disturb my contemplation. I continued to take in the place of 'Syrana of the Riverlands' final death, well aware that Rhaegar was looking for some sort of response.

"Eddard was concerned that I might be cross with you." even toned and still fishing for a reaction, I could feel his gaze.

"Ned can't help but be a negotiator, Lyanna and Brandon famously butted heads frequently, who else was going to break them up?"

"Hmm, I'd imagine, they were both such bold characters. In any case, I'm not cross, persay. Your little training exercise was a bit of a double edged sword. Some of my nobles may question your ability to hold a regal title, and many of them wonder how much the northerners influence you."

"Well, I was raised in those countries. I probably know more about the North and the Riverlands than I do the Red Keep. And I have no problem clarifying that to anyone." The image of him so easily referring to us as barbaric, still has its hold over my tongue.

After the smallest wince he continued, trying to ignore my barb. "On the other hand, the demonstration has seemed to give you more favour with our Dornish guests. And keeping Oberyn's eye should be your top priority. I should not like to intervene for you to beat out Harmen's bastard for your own husband's affections."

"This is a political marriage. One that you are legitimately blackmailing me into. Neither of us will be 'fighting for each other's affections'." I stared back at him, this man who upset the course of my life and who continues to try to fit me into boxes for his convenience. "And are you telling me that it's now my job to keep the continued and sole attentions of a man who proudly fucks anything that walks his way?"

"All high-born marriages are political, and most of them have some form of blackmail behind them. That's just the way things work." He paused taking a quick glance towards the Martells, who seemed to be slowing down in their discourse. "As for the latter, how can I explain this to you. Targaryen's can take other lovers, their spouse cannot. This rule changes with you being a daughter and not a son-"