Chapter 6: Strange News

Sansa's POV

The capital was abuzz with talk; I'm not quite sure about what, but the bright red comet hung heavily in the sky, forcing my breath to catch. It looked like a dragon in flight, its mouth frozen in a mighty roar. That wasn't the strangest thing to happen. No, the strangest thing had to be how the queen was acting. In fact, since the appearance of that comet, things have changed. The air seemed more charged with tension, but the queen and others hid all that tension behind sweet smiles and pleasant words. She even fitted me with a new gown and walked with me through the garden as she talked happily about the wedding in a few months.

I never trusted a single act of kindness or tender affection. I might be a fool, but I learned my lesson the hard way when I told her about Father's plans to leave the capital. If I hadn't been such a stupid child, I could be at Winterfell, not here among the lions.

The pain burned in me, not for the hits that no longer came across my face, but for the pain of knowing that my father's death was all my fault. Guilt gnawed at the edge of my mind as Cersei sat beside me.

Even now, her eyes lit up a bright emerald green as she laughed gently. I could only manage a timid smile as her golden curls swayed from right to left. Her crimson gown with gold plating and lion mid-roar stared back at me. The sweet scent of winter rose filled the air, and the gorgeous blue color made me long for the crypts beneath Winterfell.

The heat of the usual morning sun seemed to lessen today as the bright blue sky loomed over me. Not a single cloud in sight to block the hot waves, but at least I wasn't drenched in sweat like yesterday. Back in the North, I'm sure the grounds were covered in a light blanket of white snow, and that thought only made me ache more for home.

"Little bird, tell me about your bastard brother Jon," her tone was casual, but she had no reason to ask me about that. She is a highborn and a queen, with no reason to be concerned with Jon. Unless they were going to kill him. Even though he was only my half-brother, he is the only family I have left.

Winterfell is in ruins, my family is gone, and only he remains—the boy I have been so horrible to. With desperation burning in my mind, I did my best to fight back the tears that were sure to start spilling as memories of the old days flooded back into my mind.

"Honestly, Your Grace, I was horrible to him, much like my mother. I hated him and did my best to ignore him. I thought him beneath me, but Arya worshipped the ground he walked on, and he loved her more than anyone else. They were closer, and they looked the most like Father, while my brothers and I look more like our mother, with red hair and blue eyes." Mother always told me that she hates the fact that her trueborn children look less like Northmen than a bastard.

She would pray in the sept, asking for Jon to be punished, and his mother as well. I did the same every time Father paid more attention to him than he did to the rest of us. Arya and Robb were fiercely protective of him, and they never once thought of him as a bastard.

"Surely, dear, that can't be true. You could never hate anyone."

Her smooth and comforting tone had the exact opposite effect on me, my stomach roiled with disgust as I looked numbly at my lap. I hated her, and her horrible son, I wished to see them all dead. Though it's not like I can say that to her the warm air swirled around me as my mind began to spiral, I took a few deep breaths doing my best to calm my mind.

Even as she talked warmly to me I must never forget the monster that is hidden beneath the kind smile and nice gestures she was nothing more than a monster in human form. "I'm sad to say that it is true I doubt that he even cares that I'm the only one left in our family he will mostly wish me just as dead as he did my mother at one point."

"She tortured him, blamed him for everything, even the things he didn't do. I was just a child, though he is far too noble to admit it. He would say something foolish like 'I was a child,' but that doesn't erase my guilt." I didn't know why I was telling her this, maybe to keep her from screaming at me, or maybe to relieve some of the guilt that had grown too heavy to bear.

Her supple red lips pulled into a sad smile as she nodded her head numbly. "I wasn't the kindest to my brothers either, but still, they love me. Tell me, dear, is he like your father? Noble and kind, willing to do whatever he has to do to protect his sister."

Her sickly sweet tone forced a shiver down my spine and regret to bloom in my heart. I could tell that I shouldn't be talking to her about this, about Jon. She must want something from him, but what? What could a bastard like Jon have that she might want? Panic filled my mind as I shook my head.

"Yes, he is kind, strong, an amazing swordsman, better than our brother Rob, and he has his direwolf, Ghost." Doubt filled me, and my mind and heart both begged me to run, but I held my ground. What in the Seven Hells does Jon have that they want? But I just kept talking idly, giving away nothing important, just small things about Jon that didn't seem important.

He has no claim to Winterfell, and with me married to the dwarf, his monstrous family holds it in their golden grasp. I felt like a bird in a golden cage, trying to get out screeching, but nothing I did would set me free. I should have left with Petyr when I had the chance.

Regret filled my mind as anxiety pooled in my chest, making me jumpy as I sucked in a deep breath. After that, Cersei was gone, and I was left alone to walk in the garden, smelling the sweet scent of bright Blue Roses. Stories of Prince Rhaegar giving them to my aunt Lyanna so long ago always made me swoon. But then I heard how that love affair was one-sided and turned into a rape that led to war. But that war is the only reason I exist. If my uncle had not died and my father hadn't married my mother, would I exist?

That haunted my mind, but the sweet songs of the birds chased away the darkness as I walked to a row of fire lilies. Their bright crimson triangle-shaped petals stared back at me as the sweet scent of roses mingled with the cinnamon-like scent that always seeped out from the dew-covered leaves of the fire lilies.

"My Lady, I thought that I might find you here," a polite and sweet voice filled my ears, but I knew it better as cold and cruel. My stomach lurched as bile filled my throat and spilled out into my mouth. My heart thumped in my ears as it began to warm with hate.

Though I have to admit in the past two weeks he has been the kind, sweet prince that I fell for. Even now in the sun bearing down on us, his golden curls shined, and his emerald green eyes studied me with warmth in them.

He is so much better at playing his part than his mother. You would never know the kind of beast he was unless he was behind closed doors. I heard he killed one of the whores his uncle gave him. When I heard the tale drifting along the castle wall, I thanked the gods old and new that it wasn't me, and I knew that was horrible to think, but I didn't want to be his latest victim.

"Your grace, I didn't think that you would visit the gardens," I hoped you would't, you vile boy. I slowly stood just a little bit taller than him as he looped his arm in mine. His arms were nothing more than limp noodles as his golden sleeve brushed against my arm. My sleeveless silk gown with Myrish lace slipped behind me as the smoothness of his doublet of crimson red with chains of gold brushed against my skin.

A joyful smile on his face as he looked up to the sky in what looked like fear, but his gaze faded after a while, and only his smile remained as he stared off into the distance. "I used to come here with my mother as a child, though it has been a while since I have been back. Though I hoped that we could talk.

I would like to apologize for all the ugliness in the past few months. I understand that the war I have been fighting isn't your fault, and I took out my misplaced rage on you. I will always feel great shame for that. Truly, I'm sorry. I swear it on the Warrior and the Father."

His sleek, sweet tone came out as a lie, dripping with each word that he spoke, his words flimsy and weak, just like his arms. He was playing the same game as his mother, and he played it just as well, but I wasn't going to be fooled, never again.

He directed me to the Tower of the Hand, and memories filled my mind: the stench of death and the tears of hardened men filled my mind. They cried out for relief from their pain, swords in their gullets, and their stringy white and red organs lying on the floor as the life drifted from their eyes. Men in gold cloaks were cold and cruel as they swarmed after me and Jenny Pole, who I can only assume is dead now. Sorrow and fear filled my heart, but I pushed past into my father's old solar, only to find Tywin and Lord Jaime, both golden-haired lions, looking up from the table with pleasant smiles on their faces. Tywin's green eyes had shining golden flecks in them, and Jaime still seemed handsome, even if he was a cripple. His golden hair stared back at me. All I could think was, what did they want from Jon and why?

Aegon's POV:

The scent of burning flesh and smoke, choked my senses as I looked over to see the black smoke billowing high into the sky, blocking out the sun and all the light it provided us.

Jon sat to my right, his palfrey pawing at the ground with its hooves as if to say that we didn't belong there. I watched as men and women, slaves and masters, bodies drenched in blood, were moved through the streets and outside of the gates like a warning.

Somebody was burnt black and turned to ash in the wind, while the reek of blood and excrement, spear and sword wounds, played out from their backs, stomachs, or shoulders. Just seeing it made my heart pound, and excitement began to build in my chest. Duck came back, a large smile on his face, as he spoke in a cool and almost callous voice. He had known me since I was a babe.

"The Silver Queen left here just a few short moons ago. They say her next move is going to be Yunkai. If we hurry, we might be able to get there before she heads off to Meereen."

A soft smile pulled at Septa's lips as she smiled gently at me, but I could see the fear and hate in her eyes for what my aunt did. She used three dragons, no more than a few years old, three if I'm right. They wouldn't be bigger than small ponies, but they were able to do this much damage, and on top of that, she had already begun to build my army.

I will ride her mightiest dragon, so large that he will be larger than even Balerion the Dread. He will be as tall as a castle, and his head as large as three supply carts, and he will bring fear to my enemies and protection to my allies. I'm the rightful heir to the throne, Aegon Targaryen, 6th of his name, and I wasn't going to lose my throne. I'm going to take it back with fire and blood.

"Alright, then we will load up on supplies and move out. I want to be at Yunkai before the end of the day." My commanding tone forced my advisors to nod their heads, still a little unsure about it all, but they didn't dare to argue with me. Here I come, my dearest aunt. You better have my dragon and army waiting for me.