The Bastard Queen

Subtle Defiance

It had been a little more than a sennight since that dreadful dinner. Since then I had been told that Rhaegar prefers weekly family dinners and that I'd be required to break my fast with him every few days. I suppose to monitor my progress into ladyship.

I had also heard that Eddard had decided to take the position of Hand. Sansa was ecstatic, all the handsome knights for her to court. But, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, so after the Hand's tourney Eddard was sending the boys home. And as much as he hated to part with her, Catelyn would be returning to the North as well to look over her youngest and help manage her Lord husband's keep.

I know that I'll feel more comfortable in this place with Eddard and the girls around. But as the only knowledgeable woman around that I trusted, I feel as though I needed Cat to stay. She was the closest to a mother I'd ever get. But I couldn't make her suffer the place that drove her sister mad. And I can't exactly tell her why I'd be needing her council.

I was betrothed to the Martell Prince more than 20 years my senior, but it wasn't official. Outside myself, none knew but the King, Doran and a few of his advisers I'm sure, and the Red Viper himself. I don't think I was even really supposed to know.

I could tell no one in the King's small council were privy to such plans because Lord Tywin had started asking my hand for Jaime. Rhaegar had said at length one morning how much of an insult that would be. He had removed the man from the Kings-guard in disgrace, everyone had assumed it was because of the sword he'd put through his father's back. As much distaste as I had for my father, he was admittedly clever: give Tywin power enough to satiate him, but not too much.

Some of the nobles were already trying to gain my favor as the King's heir, others eyeing me up as a bride for their sons or themselves.

In trying to indoctrinate me into 'Fire and Blood', most of my wardrobe was drowned in the red and black of House Targaryen. But, in my defiant nature, I had secretly sent out Mierda to obtain some Tully blues and Stark greys.

The King was said to be very busy today and wouldn't have much time to scold me, so I had my handmaidens dress me in my rebellion. A navy gown outfitted with sheer lace sleeves, the bust was tight and the thick fabric flowed from my waist. I wore it for the eight year old girl inside that still clung to calling Brynden 'dad'.

I had made it halfway down the hall outside of my rooms before Patrek caught up to me.

"You must be a busy woman, I havena seen you since we got here." He called from behind me. I smiled at the sound of his distinctive lilt.

"I've been hiding out with the girls most of the time." I answer, shrugging once he reaches my side.

"Look at you," He eyes me up and down before wrapping a finger around one of my loose curls. "I kenned it better black." He dropped the strand of hair in favor of resting his hand on the hilt of his dirk. "You were always a braw fighter, ya must be scunnered living the life of a lasse." He smirked, his blue eyes glinting with mischief.

"Of course I'm bored! I don't get to leave this castle, I'm not allowed to go hunting, these power hungry and old men keep trying to flatter me, and there's only so much of Arya and Sansa's bickering that I can take." I complained, knowing he'd have something in mind to alleviate some of my restlessness.

"I have just the thing." He grinned, offering me his arm and leading us through the many corridors of the palace. "How bout we spare like we used to? Tonight while everyone else is busy with supper?" He suggested hopefully.

"I think I have a jerkin or two laying around. Sounds like a plan."

"I hope it's not Jon's." The tall ginger mused, barely holding in his laughter.