The song of ice and fire

Betrothal of North and South

Aemon

I sit on the wooden chair next to the Iron Throne when I meet with audience in court. I don’t want to sit on the throne even though the Hand insisted. It feels wrong, as if I had usurped my father’s place when the throne is the last thing I would ever want. My father, the King has taken my mother and headed North weeks ago, riding on Drogon. He needed to go home, was what the Hand said. 

Home? Father has been living in Red Keep for more than twenty years. How can any other place be home to him? My siblings and I grew up in this castle. This is our home. Father rule the realm from King’s Landing and yet the North is where he feels he belongs. My mother never like it there. Winterfell is too cold and the castle feels imposing to her. I remember how glum she was whenever we went up North to visit our Stark relatives. 

So while my parents, the King and Queen journeyed North, I will have to rule in the King’s stead. To hold court, meet the nobles and smallfolk. Lyanna and Rhaelle have stayed behind as well. I have decided to include them in the Small Council and they sit in for most meetings. It is important for House Targaryen to stand together. Daeron is gone but we’re still here. I know that there are talks fluttering about in court that I will take both my sisters as wives when I become King and carry on the Targaryen tradition of dynastic incest. 

I can’t even stomach the thought. My father raised both Daeron and I in the Old Ways. I worship the Old gods of the First Men, same gods my father worships. Incest is a grave sin in their eyes. I know that my parents are related by blood. I’ve known that all my life. It was something Father and Mama never spoke about. They just said that they had fallen in love, never knowing about their blood relations and they got married and had my brother and all the rest of us came afterwards. A simple love story. Of course as I grow older, I realised that like many things in life, it was much more complicated.

“Your Highness…” 

I turn to look at the Hand who is addressing me. My thoughts has ran away again. Brooding too much, as Daeron would say.

“Lady Catelyn of House Stark and Hornwood…” The Hand says.

I look down and there is a beautiful redhaired young lady approaching, dressed in a cream silk dress. It is my cousin Catelyn who is my Aunt Sansa’s only daughter. We all call her Lynnie because Cate was what people called her late grandmother and maybe Aunt Sansa didn’t want anyone to confuse the two Catelyns. I hadn’t seen Lynnie in quite a while. She has grown more beautiful, tall and serene with a soft smile and bright blue eyes. Rhaelle and Lyanna come running down the steps to greet her with hugs. They are all happy that she is here. I am surprised myself, I didn’t know that she is coming to visit. Lynnie then looks at me and gives a bow.

“Your Highness…” She says with a smile that I suddenly find enchanting. I smile back at her.

“What brings you to the Capital Cousin?” I ask her.

Lynnie looks at me a little confused and then at her Hornwood relatives who had accompanied her in the Throne Room. They all look stunned as well. Lord Tyrion suddenly clears his throat. “The wedding Your Highness…” He whispers in my ear.

“Wedding?” I ask him softly.

“Yes Lady Catelyn is to be married soon,” Lord Tyrion mentions.

“Oh…” I nod and look at my cousin. 

“Congratulations Lynnie…” I say to her and she gives me an odd look.

I am surprised when I hear that. Lynnie is very beautiful, I should have known that she will marry soon. But I remember she was betrothed to wed my brother. Some arrangement my father had made with Aunt Sansa years ago. For her daughter to wed the heir. It wasn’t made official because they were still children then. Except now that Daeron has died, Lynnie will probably marry a Lord of a Great House.

“She will be marrying you, Your Highness in a month’s time…” Lord Tyrion says quietly. 

And suddenly it makes sense why my parents left for Winterfell weeks ago. To honour the betrothal agreement made years ago with the Starks and the Hornwoods.

Daenerys

She hated traveling up North. The weather was often so cold and dreary even in the summer. It was much worse in Winter. Daenerys would know. She had given birth to her son during one of the worst snowstorms in recorded history the Maester Wolkan had said. The Northerners still gave her dirty looks. She was the Targaryen whore who had stolen their King, taken him South and put him in that ugly, accursed chair. Daenerys sighed as she looked at the fireplace. 

Jon and Sansa had signed on the agreement earlier in the day and stamped both their seals. Daenerys’ precious twelve year old son, the Prince of Dragonstone, the heir to the Iron Throne would now be betrothed to Sansa’s seven year old daughter, Catelyn. Sansa looked pleased. Daenerys knew her sister in law was an ambitious woman. Sansa would have been Queen for she had been once engaged to marry Joffrey Baratheon but circumstances changed and now her own daughter will be a future Queen, forever tying the Starks and Targaryens, North and South. 

Sansa married Evan Hornwood after the Great War. Evan was a cousin of the Lord of Hornwood. He didn’t have much lands or titles, just a small estate and a few hundred acres. The marriage suited Sansa just fine because Evan was handsome and kind and he didn’t mind that his children with her would be more Stark than Hornwood. Daenerys had realised that both the Stark sisters had chosen to marry or partner with less domineering men. Maybe it was a Stark trait to lord over their spouses, just as Jon did with her. Sansa had three children whom she named after her late family members. Robb the eldest a red haired and brown eyed boy, Catelyn who look like her mother and Rickon who had his father’s brown hair and green eyes.

The betrothal between Daeron and Catelyn would please many of the Northern Houses Daenerys was sure. They still saw Jon as King in the North and a Stark. Most still don’t believe that he is a Targaryen. It was a lie and a conspiracy, something the Dragon Queen and her imp had made up to bring him South with them. Jon is as Stark as they come. People of the North said he resembled Lord Rickard when he was a young man. The same grandfather who was burned to death by Jon’s other grandfather the Mad King. The irony wasn’t lost on Daenerys.

“You’re not sleeping yet?” Jon asked her when he got into their room. Daenerys sighed and looked at her husband.

“Are you sure this betrothal is the right thing to do Jon?” She asked him.

Jon nodded and sat on the bed beside her. “We can finally lay the matter to rest. Stark and Targaryen bound together.”

“She is a Hornwood.” Daenerys mentioned.

“My sister is Wardeness of the North and Lady of Winterfell. Her son Robb will be Lord of Winterfell. House Stark line will still go on, it has to.” Jon explained.

“Are you doing this because you feel guilty for leaving the North?” Daenerys asked him.

Jon was quiet for a while. “My place is with you Dany, you know that.”

They got in bed that night, too tired to make love or maybe Daenerys just didn’t feel like it. She thought of her children. The four of them in King’s Landing, left in the safe confines of Red Keep. Jon had promised Sansa that he would bring the children along during their next visit North. Daenerys only kept quiet when he said that while they were dining in Winterfell’s Great Hall. Even though she disagreed, it wouldn’t be right to show that in public. She could never undermine her husband the King. 

This is what you agreed upon, a voice inside her said. You gave up the throne and therefore any power. Now you’re just his wife, the Queen consort who’s only function is to breed heirs…

Shut up…Daenerys wanted to snap. She looked around the room and realised that it was nothing. Just the howling wind from the slightly ajar window while her husband, the King slept peacefully beside her. She snuggled closer to Jon, arms wrapped around him.