41 Coronation

Eyelids fluttering shut, Jon felt the weight of his entire life pressing on his chest. A lifetime of self-loathing, shame, ostracization… the knowledge that he was but an unwanted stain on a great family. All lies and necessary deception caused by people whose motives were remote and yet dangerously close to him, but a truth to his life nonetheless. Yet here he was, the bastard son of a Northern Lord about to take a mantle not even the great Aegon the Conqueror - his ancestor - managed to take.

It was all quite imposing.

"Hey." A soft hand pressed against his cheek, clean shaven for the ceremony. "Are you alright, my love."

Breathing deeply, Jon opened his eyes to find their violet counterparts reflecting back at him - glinting with love and a gentle concern. He couldn't help but smile. "I'll be fine." Daenerys had been raised with her status as a royal since birth. Life a constant struggle, at least she possessed such an identity. The daughter of Old Valyria knew her place and was in her element. "Really, I'll be fine."

Alone outside the Riverrun great hall, deserted except for the Unsullied guards - still and silent as stone - Dany leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss his smooth cheek. "You need not be worried." She understood. Reading the enigma that was Jon Snow... Jaehaerys Targaryen was impossible for most, but she could. "You are a born ruler. Your experiences only help in that regard." Being beaten down, tragic as it was, made him both strong and humble. A pure heart free of madness and hunger for power. "You are the man I want ruling beside me."

The smile he sent her way made her heart skip a beat. 'He's so handsome.' "I love you."

"And I you."

Ahead of them, the door creaked open and Davos poked his head out. "Your Graces, we're ready."

Fully armored Tully bannermen throwing open the doors, the bright lights of the setting sun hit the couple square in the eyes. Squinting, Jon took Dany's hand in his as they began the slow procession to the altar. Falling in behind them, from their positions at the entrace, were the Imperial Council. Lord Hand Tyrion and his counterparts, Lady Hand Sansa and the incoming Imperial Hand Davos. Lord Varys, Lady Missandei, Lord Robb and Lady Margaery. All followed the train of the special robes trailing behind the figures of the Imperials. Red and Black in the Targaryen colors, emblazoned on the back were an amalgamation of the Stark direwolf and Targaryen three-headed dragon. A dawn of a new era.

Everyone was gathered for the coronation. Dozens of lords both great and minor from across the North, Vale, Riverlands, and even as far as the Reach. Many followed Robb Stark, Olenna Tyrell, young Robin Arryn, and Edmure Tully while further many from the Riverlands and Crownlands defected to join the Targaryen cause. Tormund Giantsbane, Grey Worm, Tyene Martell, and Daenerys' bloodriders represented the far reaches of their dominions, all bowing low as the monarchs passed by in regal silence. Soon, all had taken their places among the rows, only the Hands and Melisandre standing before Jon and Daenerys.

"Lords of Westeros and Essos. Humble knights and warriors for humanity, we are gathered under the benevolence of the divine will to usher in a new era for the earth." Spiritual advisor for the King in the North, she was afforded the chance to lead the coronation on the advice of Lord Davos - "I can't fathom the worth of her faith, but anything touched by her ends up having the best of luck." - but the others only acquiesced if she would tone down the special rituals. What she allowed herself to do for the cause of light. "Before us we have Jaehaerys, son of Crown Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna of House Targaryen. Heir to the Iron Throne and the Throne of Winter. And Daenerys, daughter of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella Targaryen. Queen of Meereen. They hold the greatest power of any mortal, but are penitent before the divine." Both Jon and Dany knelt before the altar, sun beginning to set.

Whispering a silent prayer to the Lord of Light for providence upon the soon to be monarchs, Melisandre picked up the crown from the waiting servant girl, her normal homespun wool discarded for a brilliant white dress. Such a ceremony hadn't been performed in over a millennia, and the dual nature of it was the first of its kind. Holding the crown steady, the Red Woman's eyes flickered to it. The silver crown was made for this occasion, a new symbol for a new Emperor. Dark and resolute in the style of the ancient Kings of Winter of House Stark, swords pointed ominously heavenward, the Direwolf adorning the front had been abandoned for a three-headed dragon spewing unseen fire. The sigil of the house of his ancestors. Of his father, undoubtedly looking down on him from the afterlife.

"With this crown of silver comes a promise. Do you so swear to bring our Realm to greatness. To preserve and defend it as the bearer of the divine will, till your dying breath?"

"Till my dying breath," Jon answered, knowing in his heart that he was prepared for the ultimate sacrifice for duty. For his family. At that moment he felt the soft black and grey felt surrounding the crown rest on his head.

Hands brushing the sapphire and ruby encrusted silver crown, Melisandre felt the power of the Lord of Light well within her. 'I am doing his work, for his chosen Prince.' Her search had ended, calling found. "I proclaim Jaehaerys of House Stark and Targaryen, Third of His Name. Emperor of the Targaryen Empire, King in the North, Riverlands, and Vale. Father of Dragons and Prince who was Promised. the Unburnt, the Resurrected. the White Wolf and the Dragonwolf. Friend of the Free Folk and Defender of the Realm. The Union of Ice and Fire. Long may he reign!"

"LONG MAY HE REIGN!" The exultant cheer shook the massive room.

Red locks flowing dragonfire as she shifted to the other kneeling figure, Melisandre's withering gaze brought the pageboy to her. In the pillow resting on his hands was the second crown - shimmering bright flame where the first was an nightly ice, glowing rubies and emeralds lined the gold of the crown. It mirrored the crown of Aegon the Conqueror, yet with a fierce wolf snarling at an imaginary enemy. The sigil of the Queen's adopted house. The one she chose. Gingerly, the Red Woman took the crown.

"With this crown of gold comes a promise. Do you so swear to bring our Realm to greatness. To preserve and defend it as the bearer of the divine will, till your dying breath?"

"Till my dying breath," Daenerys answered back, eyes shut and waiting patiently. Mere seconds passed before the weight of the metal began to strain on her neck. It amused her that her only thought was of how heavy gold and precious stones weighed on her, the red and black rim adding little comfort.

The woman before her may have been the least imposing figure in the history of the Targaryen dynasty - simply on physical appearance, though her beauty did hold a great intimidation - but Melisandre could feel the pure dragonfire that was the Dragon Queen. She was truly meant to bring the Dawn alongside the Prince that was Promised. "I proclaim Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen and Stark, First of her Name. Empress of the Targaryen Empire, Rightful Queen of Westeros. Mother of Dragons. Queen in the North and of Meereen. The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains. Protector of the Realm and Valyria Reborn. Long may she Reign!"

"LONG MAY SHE REIGN!" Any reluctance to celebrate a 'foreign born Targaryen' had left the spirits of the lords of Westeros. Their new Empress drew the same intensity as their Emperor.

Letting out a deep breath, keeping her head steady with the crown threatening to tilt it one way or the other - she would have to get used to it - Daenerys turned to face her Emperor. Seeing him with his crown and imperial robes sent a surge of triumph through her at their shared achievement… as well as a shiver of desire. 'So handsome, my regal dragonwolf.' The glint of awe she saw in his grey eyes made her smile. He was just as captivated at her.

And next was their official wedding. The same shudder filled her as they stood side by side.

Stepping aside with a graceful nod to the Septon of Riverrun, Melisandre felt no shame or guilt at the potential betrayal of her Lord and her faith at acquiescing to the ceremony under the Seven. Jon followed the Old Gods, the majority of Westeros followed the Seven, and she did not know yet what Daenerys followed - her faith fractured and pliable at this point. This, in addition to their being bound as equal co-rulers of the new entity that was the Targaryen Empire, served as an olive branch to those they wished to rule. Joffrey Baratheon created a divine cult around himself. By marriage under the Seven, Jon and Daenerys rejected any claim to godhead. 'But you shall see, Golden One,' thought Melisandre with an inward smirk. 'They are far closer to divinity than you will ever be.'

"Their Majesties come before the Gods and their subjects," the Septon began, a quite youthful man having only recently been appointed. "Seeking to be bound. Who presents them?" Being the first of its kind - an Imperial wedding before two equally situated rulers - much was being promulgated at an ad hoc basis.

"I, Jaehaerys of Houses Stark and Targaryen, Third of My Name, present myself before Gods and Realm," Jon stated, voice the decisive courage of the wolf.

"I, Daenerys of Houses Targaryen and Stark, First of My Name, present myself before Gods and Realm," Daenerys followed, voice firm as Valyrian Steel. Both presented as true imperial monarchs.

Prayers and invocations to the Gods already pronounced at the beginning of the coronation, the Septon dove right into the meat of the ceremony. "Brought forth before the Seven are Emperor and Empress, both crowned with no superior of mortal flesh, only each other as equals. They seek not to pass under the protection of one or the other, but to be bound as one Imperial pair." Sam and Aemon had scoured the latter's texts on Old Valyria and its history, looking for ancient customs and traditions to integrate to a wedding which followed such a quintessential Valyrian coronation. And one had been discovered to replace the traditional cloaking by the groom. "Do their Majesties possess their rings?"

Eyes turning to each other, soft smiles and sparkling eyes filled with love, Jon and Dany's gazes never left each other as Olly and Missandei stepped forward to present the small rings to them - Dany's of gold and Jon's of silver, the former emblazoned with a roaring dragon and the latter bearing the etching of a snarling wolf. A tradition as old as the first dragonriders but lost to history, last conducted by Aegon the Conqueror to his sister-wives. Each took their ring into trembling hands. Already married under the Old Gods, the shared history of their ancestors nevertheless brought great emotion as they sought to reconnect with such long-lost glory.

"With these rings of precious metal, their Majesties symbolize their fidelity, shared honor, and mutual protection of each other until their last breath and continued in the afterlife. Connected straight to their hearts and soul are these promises." In his research, Sam had dug up that the Valyrians placed such rings on a finger where a blood vessel connected straight to the heart. No better symbolism, and Dany had wondered many times since why such a tradition had died out.

Gulping, trying desperately to hide his shaking hands - the loving glint in his Empress' eyes belying how she noticed and thought no less of him for it - Jon gently took Dany's hand. "With this ring, I vow my eternal fidelity and protection." Stroking the alabaster skin, he slipped the silver band onto her finger. "So that now, the fortitude of my House lays forever connected to thee."

It took every ounce of Dany's inner steel not to grab Jon's cheeks and kiss him deeply. Instead, her barely disguised trembling hands took hold of Jon's strong fingers. "With this ring," her voice rang true and steady. "I vow my eternal fidelity and protection." There was no other, no person she knew that could hold a candle to Jon. She was marrying her soulmate, her equal and couldn't be happier. "So that now, the power of my House lays forever connected to thee."

"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. Out of two great monarchs emerge one crown, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." Stepping forward from her perch on the wings of the front, owing her importance, Sansa presented to the Septon the same strip of cloth that she had knitted for them at their wedding in the Godswood. Smiling at her brother and sister-in-law, she received a non-regal warmth from each of them before she stepped back. "Let it be known," continued the Septon," that Jaehaerys of Houses Stark and Targaryen, Third of His Name, and Daenerys of Houses Targaryen and Stark, First of Her Name, are one crown, one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." At that moment Jon and Dany extended their arms, an electric heat tingling down their limbs as they pressed them together. The Septon gently bound them with the cloth. "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

Turning towards the other, Jon took Dany's hands in his. Heat passed through them, and he smiled as he heard her breath hitch. 'Gods, she is so beautiful.' When they met, he was but a bastard, and now he was the Emperor of what was to be much of the known world. He knew that his parents would be proud of him at this moment.

Placing his hands on their shoulders for a moment, the Septon smiled at the couple's immense love for the other. It was clearly visible to all and quite refreshing. "Look upon each other and say the words."

Jon and Daenerys spoke simultaneously. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..."

"I am hers…"

"I am his…"

"And she is mine…" His eyes darkened at the words.

"And he is mine... " Her heart leapt in her chest.

"This day, until the end of my days," they finished together, the weight of their crowns vanishing from notice as all they could see and feel were each other. Even in front of hundreds, it seemed as if no other interrupted the moment where their souls became one.

Reaching up to cup her cheek, composure wavering in an emotional display he cared not to cover up, Dany felt his thumb gently stroke the soft skin. She melted, closing her eyes to enjoy the touch. From the moment her brother broke and gave himself to the whispers of madness in his blood, he had taught her that so-called 'weak' emotion was vile. That no person of royal blood as ancient and august as the Targaryens should partake in it. Love was weak. Compassion was weak. In this, Daenerys knew her brother's folly. Her love for Jon made her strong, made their rule stronger - combined with skill and strategy, they had the greatness that Viserys could never grasp.

Dany's eyes fluttered open as Jon's voice rang out. "With this kiss, I pledge my love." Closing the little distance between them, Jon crashed his mouth against his wife, now twice married before the Old Gods and the Seven - the gods of his mother and the gods of his father, with the spirits of his great ancestors watching. And the love of his life in his arms.

"Those that were promised, united into the Long Night!" Resting in the center of the stage, Melisandre stretched out her arms as the flames illuminating the room suddenly burned a blazing heat. "They will bring the Dawn"

Robb drew Ice, pointed to the ceiling. "Bring the Dawn!"

"Bring the Dawn!" shouted Tyene Martell, dagger out.

"BRING THE DAWN!" the assembled shouted, cheers ringing and swords drawn high for the birth of the Targaryen Empire. Neither of their majesties noticed, lost in their passionate embrace.

Slamming the opposing arm down onto the table, Tormund rose in triumph as the Dothraki chief nursed the sore muscles and sorer ego. "Cannot beat the free folk!" With the coronation celebrations devolving through drink and merriment - on top of the battle celebration weeks before, many feasted as if this would be their last feast, which it would likely be for a long time - the wildling's boasts at his strength led to a Vale knight challenging him to wrestle arms. Five bruised egos later and the ginger hadn't yet been defeated. "Which one of you cunts is next?!"

Daenerys laughed merrily as Edmure Tully threw his hat in the ring. "Oh he can't possibly be serious," Lady Catelyn remarked at her brother, currently stretching in preparation. The older lady rolled her eyes, but quickly averted them when her gaze fell on Ser Jorah. That puzzled Daenerys, but in her happiness she filed it away for later.

"Now, Lady Catelyn, he fought bravely in the battle." She carved a small chunk of meat from the roast in front of her, enjoying the taste as the wrestling commenced. Shouts of laughter drew her attention away. A wide smile crossed her face as a slightly inebriated Emperor and his far more inebriated brother raced onto the floor, little Arya thrown over the shoulders of the former and Rhaegar over the shoulders of the latter - both the Crown Prince and Princess the picture of glee. 'Oh, I love him so.' Jon was such a good father.

Sansa leaned back, smiles infectious for anyone looking upon the happy scene. "To think that was once my brooding brother." She chuckled as the twins tried their best to climb off the Emperor and Warden of the North. "I'll have to say I like this side of him."

"It's heartening to see a ruler like this," Margaery observed. It was true, the dignitas of a monarch did not extend to openly showing either affection or unadulterated joy outside of private quarters. For Jon however, no one present thought less of him. "His prowess on the battlefield is unchallenged," said the Rose of Highgarden for explanation.

"Dignitas is overrated," huffed Sansa. "So many Kings have acted like mad tyrants or fallen down drunkards for it to matter. Jon knows what he's doing and when a particular act is appropriate for what setting."

A chorus of cheers rang out as Edmure was finally defeated, the Lord of Riverrun having given a spirited fight for the title. "Nice try, nephew!" shouted the Blackfish, smacking him on the back.

"My brother, Rhaegar," Daenerys felt the need to clarify, given that one brother had been a good man rehabilitated in recent months while the other needed no introductions in the hall of Targaryen madness. "He allowed his prowess to speak for itself, while his gentle heart found constant exercise." Given his popularity among the soldiers and ordinary smallfolk, Jon lived up to that standard - as did she if those in Meereen had anything to say. "Jon reminds me so much of him, or at least what I know of him."

Sansa sighed. "He's a good man, Daenerys. Kind like his father, and honorable like father… Ned Stark."

"It's good he has the Targaryen ruthlessness," remarked Margaery. "Ned Stark, good man that he was, didn't have the cunning needed in the game of thrones."

A wan smile graced the Empress' lips. "I'm glad he has me by his side. As hard as life has been on me, gives me the cunning to match Jon's strategic thinking."

"You two are perfect for each other," observed Sansa. 'I am happy for you brother.'

Dany opened her mouth to agree when two little bundles wrapped their arms around her waist. "Hi, muhna," Rhaegar giggled, snuggling into his mother's side. "You look pretty."

She couldn't help her joyous laugh. "Why thank you, handsome Prince. But isn't it time to retire for the night?" Twin pouts graced their faces.

"None of that," remarked the Emperor, containing his own laughter. "Go with your Uncle Robb, who also needs to get to sleep." Miming the downing of a large flagon, the women laughed as the Warden of the North sent a rather unlordly gesture the Emperor's way.

Standing, Margaery took the twins' hands while moving to Robb. "In the interests of everyone, I'll make sure the heirs and my betrothed both get to their chambers." The engagement approved by Jon just a few days prior, it was by far the best match that could be had from a strategic standpoint - the obvious infatuation and love only sealed the deal.

Watching them leave, attention soon focused on the impromptu wrestling championship on the floor. "Let me have a try." Several men hooted as the seductive form of Tyene Martell sauntered forward. Focused and precise, it was only thanks to having seen her that Daenerys knew that she had been drinking. "Or are you too weak to take on a woman."

Tormund spat on the ground. "Free Folk women would chew and spit you out." He readied himself.

As the drunkards began cheering, Jon shook his head. "I know Free Folk women, but I think Lady Martell can handle her own." A small servant girl approached, bearing a tray of wine goblets. Jon took one, Daenerys took the other, while the Blackfish snatched the other, nearly falling over from his own drunkenness. The Emperor thought to recommend him to stop, but thought better of it. 'Let them enjoy themselves.'

"Poor Tyene," Tyrion opined, hiccuping.

"Poor Tormund. He loses this one," Jon replied. As if prophetic, be it from the mead or skill on the part of his opponent, the hulking Wildling found his hand slam onto the oaken tabletop. Pumping her fist in the air to cheers, Tyene celebrated by downing another glass of wine. "I told you," Jon laughed, catching the self-satisfied smiles of his womenfolk. Picking up his goblet to quench his thirst, he turned as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Once letting down his walls and enjoying himself outside their private quarters - one of the rare times he ever did so - Dany felt dismay wash over her as a scowl formed on his face. Each moment that passed talking to Davos, Sansa, and the newly looped in Tyrion caused said scowl to harden. Her husband was back to his brooding, contemplative former self. Barking at the three advisors in a low but harsh whisper, he turned and glanced apologetically at her. "Dany…"

"Jon," she interrupted, quiet for composure's sake but still concerned. "What's wrong?"

He sighed. "Nothing disastrous… or even problematic. A dispatch from King's Landing - bearing the official seal of House Lannister."

The Emperor's scowl was soon mirrored on the Empress' lips. "Not an official royal message, so it's from Tywin himself. What does that slug want?" Knowing what she knew now, two people deserved her blame and hate for the fate of her family. Robert Baratheon the Usurper, now deceased, and Tywin Lannister.

"I need to read it myself." Begging forgiveness with sad eyes, Jon reached out and brought Dany's hand to his lips. The soft kiss shot warmth through the fair skin. Dany bit back a moan. "I must take your leave, my Empress. I'll tell you everything tonight." Casting her a longing look, Jon turned and made for the exit. Tyrion, Varys, and Davos followed, while Sansa gave Dany a small smile before joining the men.

Sighing, Daenerys leaned back on the high-backed chair. Despite being used to the stools and cushions that served as the thrones and dining seats in Meereen, she was grateful for the additional back support. "That's why I never wanted to be a lady." Almost jumping out of her skin, Dany's head swiveled to find Jon's other sister right alongside her. "Too much blither blather. Constrains a person, which was never me."

"Do you have to do that?" she huffed, unable to resist a self-deprecating chuckle.

Arya grinned back. "Want some pointers? Your daughter is already quite good for her age." Little Arya was quite the child, half the time looking like a proper lady while the other half was spent in the muck with a training sword. Arya was baffled at the former while the latter exasperated Sansa - Robb, busy training Rhaegar in the arts of chivalry, just found it amusing.

Hand drifting to Saracen on her hip - the one unladylike accessory to the flowing silk and wool of her coronation gown - Dany shrugged. "Perhaps." Looking at the vaulted ceiling, Dany reached out for the unused goblet resting across from her.

By some stroke of providence, the divine hand of the Lord of Light, Arya's gaze fell on the small build of the servant girl. The one that had last attended to the Imperial table. Tray gone from her hand, the narrowed Stark eyes fell on the soulless other pair that watched her Grace intently. For the slightest moment, such eyes twinkled a job near done. Closer yet off to the side, a hacking cough left the Blackfish. All others distracted by the celebration and revealing, only Arya noticed the small droplet of crimson fly from the covered mouth of Brynden Tully.

Another jeweled goblet lay clutched in his hand. From the same tray as that which was brought to the Imperial table by the girl. The same one given to Jon that rested unused on the tabletop. The same that Daenerys was just about to touch to her lips.

Arya's eyes widened. "NO!" The silver goblet clattered to the floor, having been a mere inch from Dany's mouth before Arya shoved it to the stone below. Loud cry having resonated through the hall, the noise and merriment suddenly ceased as guests looked upon the sister of their Emperor with horrified and puzzled eyes. She had always been odd, but why erupt in such a flagrant breach of etiquette?

Such mortification and shock morphed into terror as Brynden Tully stumbled directly in front of Arya and the Empress. Bent over, blood poured from his mouth as he violently vomited onto the floor. Edmure and Catelyn rushed forward to their uncle, Tully knights and servants joining him. "I need a maester!" he yelled. The closest thing to one was Sam, who waddled forward in all haste.

Picking up Jon's unused goblet, Arya brought the lip to her nose and sniffed. She quickly recoiled as if it burned her. "Nightshade." Daenerys gasped, the knowledge of what Arya had saved her from a diving dragon slamming into her. As Sam tended to the Blackfish, out of the corner of her eye Arya saw the suspicious serving girl duck out through a side exit. "Stop!"

Legs pumping, leaping over tables and turning corners, the spacious hallways and stained glass windows passed by with a blur. The girl shot by, knocking over servant and guard alike in a mad dash. Arya ignored whatever twinge or throb filled the muscles, eyes focusing solely on the figure ahead of her. Her mind raced at the same velocity as she did. No mere servant could be this quick, this focused. A sinking feeling reached her gut.

A small overhang overlooked the rushing river. The splashes and flow of the current resonating through the aperture, it was here that Arya found her quarry. Needle was out before she even ground to a halt. "Stay where you are, and you won't be hurt." Anger coursing through her veins at the near loss of her brother and her new sister, Arya forced an impassive line to stretch on her lips. "His Grace will determine your fate."

Not a word came from the girl - only a hand pulling back what appeared to be… With a turn of the head Arya came face to face with a ghost of her past. "A girl cannot save them," the Waif teased with a bare shade of a smirk. "The Many-faced God always gets his offering." Leaping into the void, the last trace of her Arya Stark found were the ripples of the black water below…

For now at least.

Every moment of happiness… every joyous event in Jon's life had to be ruined by the same actor. Whether directly or through proxies - however tenuous the connection - the meddling hands of Tywin Lannister were involved in all. "When did this message arrive?"

"During the ceremony, your Grace," replied Davos. I was informed as soon as it concluded, but…"

"Why the hells wasn't I informed?!" the Emperor snarled back. Gods, he wished he was in his leather tunic. The thick robes were suffocating. Letter clutched in his hand, Jon's fist crumpled the parchment in anger and frustration.

Jon Snow,

Your attempted usurpation of the throne would normally demand your head and the head of your wife the Dragon Queen. However, for the interests of peace and harmony among the Seven Kingdoms, I am sending my daughter - the Queen Mother Cersei - under a banner of truce to discuss an accord.

Tywin Lannister, Hand to the Divine Chimera

"He wished to elaborate with myself, your Majesty," said Varys, face nonchalant and ever so guarded. "My Little Birds have generally been quiet, but one did indicate a considerable military force had landed in King's Landing while another departed Highgarden."

Jon deflated slightly. "He doesn't have the might to challenge us, but had we attacked King's Landing after the battle we could have been surrounded like Renly." Providence had shone on them, justifying his decision to hold and rest after the victory at Riverrun. He turned to Tyrion. "Your father sending your sister… what does that mean?"

Tyrion, standing by the window for the cold breeze to sober him up, furrowed his brows. "Joffrey would sooner die than allow you to rule one square mile of land in his Kingdom. My father has more tact but shares the same sentiment. Him sending Cersei means these negotiations are a sham… or he wishes to keep his own head safe from harm." The Imp shrugged. "Either is possible." Jon felt his already abysmal respect for House Lannister sink even lower. Aside from Jaime - his charge at Riverrun, however stupid, was at least courageous and bold - every member of that family proved themselves a coward.

"Your Majesty!" Out of breath, Ollie skidded to a halt and leaned against the wall. "Something happened in the hall."

"Well… spill it out, boy!" Tyrion remarked gruffly, alcohol sapping his patience and the squires deep breaths annoying him.

Ollie composed himself, eyes focusing on Jon. "There was a poisoning attempt."

Eyes widening, Sansa suppressed a gasp. "Joffrey? No, Tywin. Joffrey is too stupid to be this sneaky." Was this a redux of the damn Red Wedding?

"We don't know, but the Empress was the target."

"What?!" Jon felt his stomach knott. "Where is she?!"

"Sam took her to your quarters…" He didn't manage to finish before Jon pushed him aside, rushing down the hallway.