The Bastard Queen

The Road

I had effectively evaded Catelyn's attempts to get me court ready. I wore a steel blue tunic under my leathers and brown trousers tucked into my boots, as per usual. But when Sansa came pleading with her Tully eyes, I couldn't help but cave. I think in total she spent an hour playing with the wild curls of my hair.

"Why do you always dye it? The silver is so pretty." The young girl asked me.

"Because, unlike you, I don't have my mother to thank for its coloring. It's true, my grandmother was from Lys, but such a color is rare. And you know how much I like blending in." I answered her honestly.

I didn't want to blend into a crowd, not entirely art least. But I didn't want people looking at me because of my uncommon tresses. They stared at me enough already because of my coloring; without knowing who I was, people often mistook me for a lost Dornishmen. No, I wanted them to see me for my strength, my bow-arm, and my swordsmanship.

We stopped for the night near Darry, maybe two weeks out from King's Landing.

Those of us with looser restraints were all sitting around a fire. The sun was setting and the rest of our convoy was getting ready for bed. The smell of smoke and the cracking of fire brought memories of my childhood, Brynden used to tell the best stories around fires.

Theon, Jon, Patrek, and I were all huddled around the fire, either telling ghost stories or giving general guesses for our royal visit.

"I reckon you Starks and Riverlords are in for a punishment." The Greyjoy smirked.

"A ward would know much of punishment, I ken." Patrek mocked. Their families were historied rivals, the Mallisters have been blocking Kraken raids for centuries.

"Why don't you speak normally, pigeon." The heir to the Iron Islands shot back.

"I'd make fun of ya, Greyjoy, but you have na been a kraken in a very long time."

"Ah, yes, the eagle must always take the high road." I surmised.

"You're one to talk, you don't even have a sigil mutt." Theon's attempts to offend had never worked, I honestly wonder why he keeps trying.

"You're right, I don't. Lions, bears, krakens, wolves, dragons; Jon, you and me should make our own. What do ya say? 'Bastards at Arms', has a nice ring to it." I look to our raven haired friend.

Jon felt lost in most groups. He was friends with Theon and Robb, but he was the only bastard in that group and he didn't share their love of brothels. He loved spending time with the Stark children, yet again, he was the odd one out: Catelyn wasn't his mother.

He supposed he should feel more akin to this group. Syrana was a bastard, Patrek never got a chance to know his mother, and Theon was not treated as well as the Starks were by commoners. And yet he still felt alone all the same.

"I don't think I'll have my own sigil. I want to join the Night's Watch, with Uncle Benjen." He said taking a sip of the ale Patrek had smuggled out for us.

"Oh come on, Snow. Some girl rejects you and you're gonna swear 'em off entirely?" Theon shook his head, "You have much to learn,"

Apparently, Jon had told Theon about us. Not my name, but probably everything else.

"The little wolf pup finally caught a girl, hmm?" Patrek asked, though I'm entirely sure he knew it was me.

"I thought I did, but I didn't." He admitted, staring into the fire in an attempt to avoid my gaze.

"I'm not talking about a girlfriend, snow. You either got laid or you didn't, which is it?" Theon Greyjoy could break banks with his love of whoring, or at least die trying.

"Can we not talk about this in front of her."

"What afraid for everyone to know you're still a virgin? And Syr doesn't count, you know that."

"Theon, I could bring in more tail than the three of you combined. And I wouldn't have to pay for it." I could be a smug little shit when I tried.

"No one would want to fuck you, you're ugly and you were more trousers than I do."

"Are you implying that you wear skirts, Greyjoy?" I had beaten him with his own words.

Knowing that there was no coming back from that blow, he got up to leave. You could barely hear his words over Patrek and I's laughter.

"Come on, Snow. Let the frogs have there fun."

Jon hesitantly followed the older boy back into the castle walls.

"No, come back! We were having fun!" I shout at their receding forms.

As our laughter died down, Patrek took a more serious tone.

"You know he's right, you don't have a sigil. The King called for you specifically; if it's for what we think it is...well, none of us have the right to say otherwise."

"Brynden could always claim me."

"If he was ever going to do it, he would have a long time ago, ya ken?"

"We'll just have to hope the King doesn't want me for that." I sighed, taking a gulp of ale from my cup.

"What else could he want?"

...

King's Landing, the Red Keep

Rhaegar had many advisers, and they all told him different things. Each one of them grovelling for favor, power at the demise of the rest. It was hard to trust any of them.

It was in times like these that he truly missed the honesty and forthrightness of northerners.

He regretted a lot of his early decisions, but naming Jon Arryn Hand was not one of them. Jon was the most honest man in his court, he was honorable and spoke frankly.

Most questioned his choice for Hand of the King, Jon was one of the rebels after all. But he had joined for a good cause, the man didn't want to see the two boys he raised put to death.

Little knew that Rhaegar had been planning his own rebellion for years. His father was not a good man, at least not anymore. His actions were only to smite and spite others. And he had no care for the lives at stake or those he ruined in doing so.

The tourney at Harrenhall had been the start of many things. He had hoped to meet with all the noble lords there, and win them to his side. It was meant to be the start of his reign, but Aerys had shown up and all of his best laid plans turned to dust.

Instead, he found a Knight with a laughing tree as it's sigil. He fell in love. He scorned his wife, and started digging the deep trench between him and Dorne.

It was those decisions and those mistakes that brought him here, alone.

Elia could not give him a third child. He's reasons for wanting one felt so stupid to him now. He went out searching for someone who could give him another babe. And he did, the product of which he could potentially pass off as one of Elia's.

It was on his return home that he had found her again. His winter rose. His ambitions brought him to make promises he knew he could not keep. But he made them anyway.

A lie was told, men she cared for lost their lives, and the rebellion was started.

Her memory was the reason he chose to pardon those who survived the battles. She had spoken highly of Jon and Hoster, so he had offered them positions.

But many years had passed since then, and he could scarcely remember what either of his wives looked like. His love for the latter ultimately caused the death of the former. He had naught but Dorne's accumulative anger to remember Elia by.

But there was something left of his love. He often wondered why he hadn't claimed the boy sooner. Perhaps he had a wish to allow him an experience of both families, as his mother had wanted. Not all Targaryens were worth mentioning, but all Starks were good. He hoped the wolf would survive court long enough to know he was dragon too.

This might just be another one of the stupid things he's done for love.