9

 Summary:

The celebrations continue and our dear wolf is given the honors he deserves

Chapter Text

After the melee was over and Jon being proclaimed the winner by the king, Jon left the field with Loras and several others. At first, she wasn't scared much, but once Jon started fighting real opponents, she became terrified, especially when he fought the red priest. The very thought of Jon getting hurt by the flaming sword made her stomach turn. Once the priest started lowering his sword towards Jon, she gasped, and so did Margaery and the other ladies. Margaery seemed as concerned as she was, maybe even more.

When the crowd started dispersing, they took their leave to but not to the keep, but to the Tyrell tent; lord Stark left due to the king wishing to speak with him. There they found Loras and Jon taking their armor off with Dacey and lord Beric with them. Arya and Sansa rushed to embrace their brother, and she honestly had to restrain herself from doing the same.

"You won; I knew you would win," said Arya.

"I told you I would," Jon replied with a smile.

"I was so scared when you fought the priest. Did he hurt you?" Sansa said.

"I'm fine, just a few bruises," Jon replied.

"There are more than just a few bruises," Loras said, concerned. "Look at his hands." Sansa took one of Jon's hands a looked at it, a cut stained with blood on it.

"Jon," Sansa said worriedly. Arya took the other hand and saw the same thing.

"It's just a scratch, nothing more."

Margaery stepped forward. "It's more than just a scratch Jon. What you did was incredibly dangerous and foolish." Jon lowered his gaze from her but, after a moment, pulled it back up.

"I will be fine, Margaery, believe me, all of you," Jon said as he looked around the room.

"You need a Maester to take a look at that." Mira finally said.

"I will once we are hack at the keep."

"Well, seeing that there is no point talking about your wounds, let me be the first to congratulate you on your victory," Elinor said.

"Thank you, Elinor," Jon said.

"Actually, you aren't the first; lady Dacey was the first," Loras said.

"Second then."

"Smalljon."

"Third?"

"That was me, my lady." said lord Beric.

"Fine, but I'm the first of this group to congratulate you."

"That you are my lady," Jon said with a small smile.

Before anyone could say anything else, a noise was heard behind them, and they all turned to see what it is. To their surprise, they saw the king enter the tent with lord Eddard, lord Mace and Garlan behind him with ser Jaime and Barristan beside him.

"Your grace." they all said and bowed to the king. The king approached Jon and started laughing. The two lords stayed behind.

"Ha-ha, I knew you would win, boy; you are just like your father."

"Thank you, your grace," Jon said as he bowed his head.

"It's been a long time since I saw a Stark fight, and gods, was it all worth it. When you knocked that Redwyne boy on his ass," the king continued to laugh. After he composed himself, the king continued, "Balon Swann, the Strongboar, and even Thoros, you have skill, boy."

"You flatter me, your grace."

"Real skill and balls, the way you caught that blade as it were nothing, gods I wish my son was like you."

"It was instinctual your grace."

When the king realized it, "Your hands, are they hurt?" the king asked, concerned.

"Just a bit," Jon said, and he showed the king his hands.

The king looked at the wounds before turning to lords standing behind him. "Ned, where is Pycelle? He was right behind us."

As the king said that the old Maester walked in alongside Mira, it looked like the elderly man could barely walk. "I'm here, my king." the Maester said, slightly winded.

"Took you long enough," the king barked. "The boy is injured. See what you can do." The Maester nodded and slowly approached Jon. He took both of Jon's hands and examined them closely.

"The wounds themselves aren't too deep, some ointment to keep it from getting infected, and some bandages will do just fine." Mira breathed a sigh of relief because it was nothing serious. "What perplexes me is that they are no burn marks on his hands; the sword was aflame, so when it pierced the gauntlets, it should have left burn marks, but there are none."

"Master Motto must be a better smith them, we thought," said Garlan.

"Indeed." said the Maester skeptically, "You got lucky young Ser; I will take care of this now, and then you will be on your way."

"Thank you, Maester " Jon said. The old Maester dressed Jon's wounds while the king continued to speak with Lord Eddard and Lord Mace and Garlan with Loras.

"That's it." said the Maester as he finished. Jon squeezed his hands into fists. "Any pain?"

"A bit but no need to worry; it will pass," Jon answered.

"Your grace, that is all." the maester said as he turned to the king.

"Good, will he be able to joust tomorrow?"

"I believe so; there might be some pain but nothing serious." said the Master.

"Thank you, Pycelle, you may go." The old man nodded and slowly exited the tent. Then the king returned his attention to Jon.

"With that done, I wish to congratulate you for your victory. You made me and your father very proud." the king said in a booming voice.

"Thank you, your grace, but I could not have done it without Ser Loras; he had my back during the fight."

"Nonsense lad, you won, don't sell yourself short." Jon looked at Loras and was about to say something when lord Eddard intervened.

"My king, you should return to the keep; you have to prepare for the feast." The king turned to Lord Eddard.

"For fuck sake, Ned, can't you just give me a minute to congratulate your son on a well-deserved victory."

"I'm aware, and you did so."

"Alright," the king returned his gaze to Jon. "Lad, do something like that again, and I might just name you to the Kingsguard." the king said and smiled. Mira looked at the king and then to his two Kingsguard; ser Barristan had a look which seemed like he agreed with the king, while Ser Jaime had a displeased frown on his face.

Jon looked stunned at the king's words, and so were lord Eddard and Loras. "M-My king, you honor me."

"When the time comes, and a place opens in the Kingsguard, I will consider you for it, having Ned's son as a Kingsguard with his daughter as a wife for my son would be a great thing indeed."

"Thank you, my king."

"We will talk more during the feast."

"As you wish your grace," Jon said and bowed. The king turned and started exiting the tent with his Kingsguard and hand behind him; they all bowed as he did.

With the king gone, lord Mace walked up to Jon and shook his hand. "Great work out there, Jon, truly great work."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Loras and you both did great. I'm proud of you both."

"Loras might have lasted longer if he hadn't charged at the red priest like a fool," Garlan said.

"I could have beaten him if the damn sword wasn't on fire," Loras argued.

"No, you couldn't." the answer came not from Garlan but from Margaery. "I'm just glad you did not hurt yourself."

"It would have been a shame if he lost that pretty face of his," Jon said as he put on hand around Loras's neck.

"Fine, I lost, no need for you to rub it in," Loras said, annoyed.

"You are the one who always brags about his victories; you can let us have fun with you at least this once," Garlan said.

"It's more than once," Loras said as he crossed his arms.

"Alright, come on guys, we hurt his ego; let's top it before he starts crying," Jon said with a smirk.

"You...little," Loras said as he brought Jon's head into a lock.

"Hey, get off me!" Jon yelled.

"Not until you apologize."

"Apologize? They started it."

"Yes, but you finished it, so you have to apologize."

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry," Jon said, and Loras let go. Both looked at each other and started laughing. Soon everyone else joined them.

Jaime

"A bastard, a damn bastard, won the melee," Cersei growled as they walked through the halls of the Maegors holdfast. "The boy must have cheated somehow."

"Even the damn priest and Lyle yielded to him, fucking cowards. If I was there, I would have made sure the boy never picked up a sword again."

"Why didn't you?" Cersei asked, and Jaime gave her an annoyed glare.

"The lord commander refused to give me a permeation to switch shifts with someone."

"Why should you listen to that old fool? I'm the queen I would have given you permeation."

"He is the lord commander; only he or the king can do that," Cersei growled in annoyance and turned her gaze back to the hall.

"Since that stunt, the bastard pulled with catching the flaming sword everyone is talking about him like he is the prince and not Joffrey, Joffrey should be worshiped like that, not some bastard from the North."

Jaime sighed. "The bastard is better than I expected," he admitted.

"First Robert follows Ned Stark around like a lost puppy, now he is doing the same with the damn bastard." She stopped and grabbed him by the hand, "You will do what is needed tomorrow and knock that bastard to the dirt where he belongs."

"I will," Jaime said with determination.

"Good, now escort you, queen, to her chambers," she said with a mischievous smile on her lips.

Margaery

They made their way back to the keep and went to their rooms to prepare for tonight's feast. Once she made sure everyone was in their rooms or elsewhere, she quickly made her way to Jon's room. She opened the door and found him half-naked, putting new clothes on.

"Margaery?" he asked, a bit surprised. She ran to him and gave him a greedy kiss. After a long moment, they broke for ear, and she slapped him. "What was that for?" he asked angrily.

"That was for doing something so dangerous and stupid; I almost ran to you when you caught that sword."

The angry glare turned into a mischievous smile ", So my lady really cares about me."

"Of course, I do, and don't you ever do something like that again," she said, the latter part sound more pleading than commanding.

He cupped her cheeks, "I won't, I promise." She could feel tears feeling her eyes.

"I don't want to see you get hurt; I don't know what I would do if something happened to you."

"You won't lose him ever; I promise to be there beside you, always." She brought her head to his chest, hearing his heart.

"My brave knight," she said with a whisper. They stayed like that in each other's arms until a knock came from the door.

"Jon, you in there?" a voice asked; it was Mira. They looked at each other. If she enters, they will be caught, and she knew what that would mean for both of them. They stayed silent, not knowing what to do. After a long moment that felt like an eternity, a second voice spoke.

"He must be with his sisters," Elinor said.

"Yes, I will see him later before the feast," Mira said, and they could hear the footsteps going away from the door. Once they were sure the two ladies left, they breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was close," Jon said.

"I know," he turned her attention from the door back to Jon. "I really wish we wouldn't need to hide as we do."

He sighed, "You know why we must." Jon said sadly.

"Why does it matter on what side of the sheets you were born? If someone is a good person, why should anyone think lesser of them because of their birth."

"That is not how the world works, Margaery."

"I know, but I wish..." she said, her voice desperate.

"I know My golden Rose, I know ."

Robert

That melee was one of the best he had seen in a long time, Ned's son participating made it even better. He saw the Stark children in Winterfell and all, but little Sansa looked like their mother with red hair and blue eyes, no son with Stark features. But once he heard about the son who was fostered with the roses would be fighting in the tourney, that raised his interest. The first time he saw the boy, he was taken back to the time of the rebellion. It almost scared him how much the boy looked like his father, a complete copy. The boy's mother left nothing of herself in the boy; he was all Stark. The boy even reminded him of Lyanna.

During the melee, the boy fought beside the rose; there was a bond there. It was apparent, but the damn flowers were dragon lovers. Having the boy on his Kingsguard would be a too good opportunity to waste. All these Lannisters around him made him sick; replacing some of them with the Stark would be a good idea.

The boy won the day; even when everyone thought he would lose, he refused to surrender. Grabbing the damn blade was not something anyone would be brave enough to do, but the boy did it, nonetheless. Seeing the face of both Lannisters beside him as the boy did, it was worth every gold dragon in the kingdoms. The boy had nerves of steel, just like his father.

"Are you sure he is not a trueborn, Ned?" Robert asked his best friend, who was sitting beside him at the high table.

"I am my king," Ned said in his usual serious tone.

"The boy looks more like you than your firstborn son, no offense."

"None taken, your grace."

"What did I say, Ned, enough of that your grace business."

"Fine you-Robert."

"The boy did well; he is skilled with a blade," Robert said, laughing.

"He did."

"He is the son of the man who defeated Arthur Dayne after all, gods what I would not give to have been there with you when you finished him off."

Ned frowned. "Arthur Dayne was a good man..."

"He was a damn dragon loyalist," Robert said, annoyed at his friend for defending the dead knight.

"So was Barristan, if you recall." his friend said.

"Barristan had the common sense to see that once I killed Rhaegar, the war was over and that we have won and that fighting for a lost cause only meant death, unlike the three fools you faced in Dorne."

"Those men were brave and loyal, and will not discuss that anymore," Ned said as he glared at Robert with those dark gray eyes. Robert knew why Ned did not want to discuss it any. Further, the same memory pained him also, the woman they both lost.

Olenna

Her stupid grandson got his ass handed to him again, and the bastard won yet again. Loras might have a talent for the sword, but he was precisely the same as his father when it came to having brains. She noticed the look her granddaughter had during the fighting; anyone could see it; she did not even try to hide it. The only good thing was that so far, her plan to split the two of them was going along; all she needed was for young Mira to use her charms on the boy, and after a rump or something, one of the servants will inform Margaery of what they saw, and that will be the end of that damn affair. She was in no hurry; the best-laid plans are the ones that work slowly and bring the exact results you want.

The bastard winning the melee was not a surprise; he was always better with the blade then Loras. What did surprise her was when he caught the flaming sword; the boy had more luck than brains. For a moment, she hoped that the priest or the Crakehall would injure him or even kill him, but she had no such chance.

Mace told her later also alarmed her; the fact that Robert was considering the boy for a place on the Kingsguard was aggravating because if Margaery became queen, the bastard would still be there beside her, and she could not do anything to change it. If Rhaegar had won and his son was alive, Margaery's hand would go to him, but now she must fight even more to get her granddaughter onto the throne.

"That was spectacular." his son roared as he entered the small dining room where she was sitting.

"It was father," Garlan replied.

"The way he beat the Strongboar, fabulous," Mace said as he clapped his hands.

"And knocking the Freys on their asses."

"And did you see the final blow he gave to the priest?"

She could not take this anymore; her son's shenanigans were annoying her to no end. "Everyone saw that Mace; I think the whole kingdom saw it," she said with venom on her tongue. Her son and grandson looked at her. "What are you looking at? If you have something smart to say, say it. If not, keep quiet; I need to think."

"Yes, grandmother." Garlan said, "Come on, father, let's go and have some wine on the balcony to celebrate."

"A good idea Garlan."

Jon

They were about to go to tonight's feast; they were only waiting for Loras and Alla. Lord Mace and lady Alerie were happy with his victory, and so were the rest of them. The one thing that bothered him was his father's reaction or the lack thereof; his lord father did not even congratulate him when they were with the king; he did not even give him an approving smile.

Everyone knew how lord Eddard felt about tourneys, but he honestly thought his father would be glad to see him participate and even win, but by everything that accrued so far, that was not the case. At least his fellow northerners were more than glad for him.

"You alright?" Maege asked him, which snapped him out of his brooding.

"I'm alright, Maege, perfect, actually."

"Good, you looked so lost for a moment there."

"Just thinking about the joust, nothing more."

"Either you or Loras is going to win."

"I don't know the competition is steep; I heard that the Bold and the Kingslayer are competing as well."

"We believe in you both and Garlan, right Elinor, Mira." She looked at the two girls beside her.

"We do," Elinor replied.

"I believe in you, Jon," Mira said with a kind smile on her lips.

"Thank you all of you," Jon said.

"I need to thank you, Jon," Garlan said as he put on hand around Jon's shoulder.

"What for?" Jon asked.

"You made me a rich man."

"You are rich."

"Richer than," Garlan said with a satisfied smirk.

"You bet on me?"

"I did."

"You bet against your own brother?" Jon asked, surprised.

"Why does everyone why it strange? I knew who had the best chance of winning and put my money on him, so what?"

"Maybe with that money, you could buy something for a certain lady," Elinor said with a smile.

"I will buy my lovely wife something she deserves." Elinor's smile was still there but not as bright.

They talked for several more minutes before Loras and Alla arrived, both in their finest clothes.

"What took you so long?" Jon asked Loras.

"You can't rush perfection," Loras said smugly.

"Everyone is here good, now lest go, we better not be late; it's rude to keep the king waiting." Lady Alerie said. Lord Mace went his wife and lady Olenna, Garlan with his wife, and Margaery with Loras with the girls and him behind them. Suddenly he felt someone's arm be put under his.

"Mira?" he asked as he looked at her.

"It looks bad when the champion comes to the feast alone," Mira said with a beaming smile.

He returned her a smile, "You are right, thank you, Mira."

They made their way to the great hall where the herald announced them as they entered. The Tyrells sat at their table, and he was seated next to Mira when the herald announced the arrival of the king and queen and the royal children, his father, and sisters with them. Sansa saw being escorted by the crown prince while Arya was with prince Tommen and by the looks of it, she hated every moment of it. The royal family made their way to the high table and sat down. He was talking with Mira and Megga when the king stood up, and the room quietened.

"Ser Jon, your king, wishes a word with you." the king thundered. Everyone at their table looked at Jon as he walked towards the royal table and stopped a few steps from the king.

"My king, my queen, my prince, princess," Jon said with a bow as he looked at each one of them.

"Ser Jon, let me officially congratulate you on your victory in today's melee; it sure was more entertaining then I thought it would be, isn't that right?" the king said, and sounds of confirmation were heard around the hall, especially from the Northern and Stormlands tables.

"Your grace, you congratulated me once already," Jon said.

"Aye, I did, but this is official, where everyone can agree."

"Thank you, my king," Jon said.

"Jon, my boy, come sit here beside your father and me; your place is here, not with the roses." Jon frowned a bit because of the king's words about his foster family but did as he was asked.

As he passed his sisters, he greeted them and did the same to his father, who only gave him an acknowledging nod.

Ned

Jon sat next to him and Robert once more, and he was more worried than he had been in a long time. He knew the risks that fighting in the melee brought, and he was afraid for Jon during the whole ordeal, but the worries he had now were small compared to those. The fact that Jon grabbed a flaming sword and that it had not left a single mark concerned him greatly.

Only Targaryen's could have immunity to fire and heat, and not all of them had it throughout their history; Aegon the unlikely proved that when he burned to death at Summerhall. Now it seemed that that ability manifested in Jon. So far, no one suspects anything, which is good. Jon having the looks of a Stark is what truly helped in keeping the secret. The only ones who knew about it in Westeros beside him were Howland and Benjen. He knew they neither would say it even under threat of death, but if someone even remotely suspected something, that would be a significant problem.

Another thing that worried him much was Robert's wish to make Jon a Kingsguard. It was an honorable calling, there is no doubt about that, but having Jon anywhere near Robert posed too great of a threat.

The sooner this damn tourney ends, the sooner Jon can go back to Highgarden, where he is safe, far away from Robert.

"Is everything alright, father?" Sansa asked, concerned.

"It is; there is nothing for you to worry about," he reassured her, and she nodded.

Loras

After the meals were over, the time came for dancing; the lord and knights took their partners by the hand and went to the dance floor. Father danced with their mother, Garlan with Leonette, once again the prince came to ask his sister for a dance. As Margaery went past him, she told him to ask Jon's sister for a dance. Seeing that no one has yet done so, he got up from where he was sitting and went to the high table.

"Your graces, lord hand."

"Ser Loras." Lord Eddard said.

"I come to ask your daughter to dance with me if you would allow it, my lord."

Sansa turned to her father and gave him a pleading look "father, please."

"You can go." Lord Eddard said, and Sansa immediately jumped up from joy but quickly composed herself and started acting more ladylike. She took his hand, and they made their way to join the others who were dancing.

They danced for a while before he noticed that Jon and Mira had joined them, he did not know who asked who, but his money was on Mira.

When the dance was done, he took Sansa back to the high table. As they passed the musicians, a brilliant idea came to mind. Sansa noticed his grin.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I just have an idea." She looked at him, confused.

Garlan

Garlan finished his dance with Leonette and brought her back to their table; soon enough, Jon returned; Mira continued to dance with a young man he knew as Teobold Ashford, Simos's younger brother. For a time, he spoke with Sam and his brother before he noticed that Jon had not taken his eye of Margaery since he sat down. He put his elbows on the table and leaned towards Jon.

"You should ask her for a dance," Garlan said. Jon taking his attention off Margaery and turning it to him.

"What?" Jon asked.

"I said you should ask her for a dance." Jon looked at him as if he were crazy.

"I can't."

"Why?" Garlan asked.

"You know why," Jon replied.

"Oh, come on, you dance with Mira and some others already; why not Margaery?"

"I just can't." Garlan grinned and brought his head to Jon's ear.

"If it's about keeping your little secret, I don't think one dance we reveal it to all the realm." Jon leaned back and looked at him, stunned, his face pale.

"How do you know?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm her brother; it's my job to know," Garlan said with a smirk.

"And you are allowing me to ask her to dance with me, why?"

"Oh, for god's sake, Jon, I noticed how she had been looking at you every time it's time to dance; she is practically begging for it." Jon gave him an uncertain look, and Garlan sighed. "Listen, you are the winner of the melee; that enough is the reason for any of the ladies here to dance with you. Mira asked you, and no one bat an eyelid, so go there and ask her."

Jon looked as if he was giving it thought before he raised his head, "Thank you, Garlan; I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing; we will talk later," Garlan said, to which Jon gave the nod and rose from his seat and walked towards Margaery.

Margaery

She just finished dancing with Humphrey Hightower when out of nowhere, Jon came to her offering his hand.

"Lady Margaery, a dance if you will?" she looked at him, shocked; she never anticipated he would be this bold with him always saying that we must keep it a secret. She took his hand without even noticing, and soon they were moved around the dance floor.

There was a large smile on his lips, and she felt the same on hers. She wished this so badly for a long time, but he always stayed away; it was certainly worth the wait. They danced, and she could feel people looking at them. During a slower part of the dance, she looked at her family; her mother had a small smile on her face, while her grandmother, in contrast, had an angry frown. Garlan also had a smile on his face.

Jon leaned in and whispered into her ear, "Garlan knows."

She moved her head back a bit, her eyes wide "How?"

Jon shook his head. "I don't know, but he said we will talk later." She just nodded and presided to dance. That was a slight shock, but it did not ruin the moment.

Sansa

They reached the king table, and Loras let Sansa return to her seat next to her father and sister. Then he turned to the king.

"My king, I have a proposition to make," Loras said.

The king raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"First, you would need to call Ser Jon here." both the king and lord Eddard gave him an odd look before the king called for Jon in his booming voice, which somehow managed to be louder than the music.

"You summoned me, your grace," Jon said as he walked up to him.

"Aye, your friend here was a proposal which includes you."

"Me?" Jon asked, surprised, and looked at Loras. "What it is?"

"The music here is good, but I thought you should grace this hall with your voice, my friend."

"You want me to sing?" Jon asked.

"You sing?" Sansa asked.

"Maybe a little," Jon answered.

"A little," Loras scoffed, "You know how to play a harp sing better than most bards that graced Highgarden."

"You play the harp?" lord Eddard asked.

"Yes," Jon answered, and for some reason, Lord Eddard's face turned even paler than it was before.

The king looked at them both for a moment. "If you are as good as your friend says you are Jon, then I ask you to sing,"

Jon sighed, "If you wish your grace."

"And sing something jolly I'm fed up with what they are playing right now." the king said, and Jon turned to walk towards the musicians, Loras following right behind.

"Why did you do that?" Jon asked.

"Oh, come on, why do you always try to keep your musical skills secret? People love a good bard." Jon did not answer. "What song will you sing?"

"Something everyone knows," Jon said as he came to the musicians. He explained what was going on, and they nodded in agreement. Soon Jon took a harp from one of the musicians, tuned it, and started to play.

A bear there was, a bear, a bear!

All black and brown and covered with hair.

The bear! The bear!

Oh, come they said, oh come to the fair!

The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!

All black and brown, and covered with hair!

And down the road from here to there.

From here! To there!

Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!

They danced and spun, all the way to the fair!

The fair! The fair!

Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!

The maid with honey in her hair!

Her hair! Her hair!

The maid with honey in her hair!

The bear smelled the scent of the summer air.

The bear! The bear!

All black and brown and covered with hair!

He smelled the scent on the summer air!

He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!

Honey on the summer air!

Oh, I am a maid, and I'm pure and fair!

I'll never dance with a hairy bear!

A bear! A bear!

I'll never dance with a hairy bear!

The bear, the bear!

Lifted her high into the air!

The bear! The bear!

I called for a knight, but you are a bear!

A bear, a bear!

All black and brown and covered with hair

She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,

But he licked the honey from her hair.

Her hair! Her hair!

He licked the honey from her hair!

Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!

My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!

And off they went, from here to there,

The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.

When he finished the song, all eyes were on him, from Reach lords to Northmen. For a moment, there was silence, and Loras could see that Jon felt uncomfortable but soon came the claps and cheers from all around, even the king.

"More! More!" the crowd demanded.

"You must please your audience Jon," Loras said.

Jon sighed and smiled. "Boys Jenny of Oldstones."

Barristan

The day had been eventful, that was for sure. The melee was a joy to watch, and seeing them finally beaten by someone much younger brought a smile to his face. He agreed with the idea of naming Ned Stark's son to the Kingsguard once the time was right. The boy is skilled, but he is young and still has a lot to learn.

He was just making his way back to the great hall from escorting princess Myrcella and prince Tommen to their room when he heard something that made his heart stop for a moment. A voice so familiar yet different in some way singing Jenny's song.

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave.

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave.

They danced through the day.

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall.

From winter to summer, then winter again.

'til the walls did crumble and fall

"No, impossible," he thought, "Rhaegar." He practically ran to the door of the great hall. Once inside, he saw that it was not the silver prince who was singing but Ned Stark's son. He put his finger on the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Everything alright, Ser Barristan?" a man asked, and he looked to see Yohn Royce standing in front of him.

"Yes, it just seems that my old age is getting to me, that's all."

"Well, don't let that discourage the Bold," Yohn said and laughed.

"Ser Barristan," Lord Renly said, Loras Tyrell beside him.

"Lord Renly, Ser Loras," Barristan said as the two men walked past him.

A charming spider

A man was overlooking the festivities from a private balcony in the great hall; people were acting as they always did during such thing, eating, drinking, and now listening to the young man with an almost magical voice.

"Well, this is interesting." the man murmured to himself as he continued to listen to the young man sing.