Seven
Aerys was never one for feasts, balls or even damn Tourneys. But that plotting son of his had forced him to grace Lord Whent with his company at Harrenhal.
Trying to uproot me from my throne, steal my crown and my kingdoms.
He watched as the ladies and lords, or so they called themselves, danced and drank their heart's content. He looked to his son and wife who had been doing just the same. They were all so clueless. So clueless. Their useless feasts and laughter would soon be drowned out by winter. He followed his son's eyes, that boy was more adulterous than he had been. He laughed to himself remembering all the nights he and Joanna Lannister shared. He remembered how after his jealous little wife found out she sent her home.
Aerys had to find a new play toy, and that came in the package of Serene Dayne. The beautiful, dark-haired beauty who had graced the walls of the Red Keep. She was a handmaiden for the Queen, just as her daughter was a handmaiden for the Princess. Hours passed, and Aerys was still thinking of his favourite ladies, Joanna and Serene. He would never meet women has beautiful and soft like them. Not even his wife, his sister, his half.
He remembered Joanna's blonde hair and green eyes that would gaze at him every night they would lay together. He remembered how he had seen her daughter and she was a replica. He would not let his son marry her. When his mind was still with him, which Aerys knew it was not any longer, he knew that the girl would attract him too much and he would not be able to resist her. And she and Twyin deserved better than be insulted a second time.
Not that I'd mind one night. He thought. A soft laugh escaped his lips. He saw the looks the lords and ladies gave him. He must've looked exactly how they were told he would look. Silver hair that he refused to wash, unlike his wife or sons who had silky, shiny, silver hair. And a face that was once handsomely riddled with wars and the stress of ruling seven kingdoms.
He remembered how Serene had also been sent home by his wife, to Dorne. Not before he could get to her though. They shared one sweet night together before Rhaella found out the news, was insulted and sent the girl packing back to Dorne, where Aerys heard she'd died.
Another traitor. Aerys head snapped to his sister wife. There was no love in their marriage, becoming violent once or twice. Aerys knew Rhaella feared her brother greatly, but could not do much to keep herself from him. In the Red Keep, they were able to avoid each other as they wanted, though he did go to her after one of his many burning trials. But in Harrenhal, the idiotic Lord Whent had placed them in the same room to sleep in, which caused Rhaella to instantly snap at the Lord and request another room, which she, of course, was granted. The room right next to him. They could never escape each other. They were expected to dine together and sit together at all events.
How he hated these pompous lords and ladies.
One day. They'll get what's coming to them.
There was movement from opposite him, and he saw Ser Barristan Selmy call forward the Northern table, the boys he knew to be the Stark boys, a girl he knew to be the Stark girl and another young girl, her face he could not make out, through the many faces. He saw her clamber up the steps after the four siblings, and stop at the high table where the group was introduced to Lord Whent's sons, fools all of them. One by one the bowed or curtsied to the King, Queen, and Prince.
"Brandon Stark, the eldest son of Rickard Stark," Barristan said standing at the end of the line next to the young girl.
Rickard. How Aerys had missed his friend, Rickard had been a loyal supporter since Aerys could remember and never once made notions of going against him.
"Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard Stark. Benjen Stark, third son of Rickard Stark. Lyanna Stark, first daughter of Rickard Stark."
He looked at the four siblings. They were nothing special, the boys all looked like their father and replicas of each other, just shorter, skinnier versions as they grew younger. The girl was no great beauty; she had long thick black hair that if pulled back enough, would make her face resemble that of her brothers. What a pity for he knew that her mother, Lyarra was a beauty to end all wars. Aerys waved his hand indicating that he acknowledged them, they bowed and curtsied again before being led off. Their conversation with Rhaella and Rhaegar cut short. Though the Lyanna girl stayed behind waiting for the younger brown-skinned girl.
"And, Arianne Sand, second daughter of Rickard Stark."
Rickard never told me he had a bastard?
The girl curtsied low when she reached them. His eyes almost rolled to the backs of his head. She was in front of him, flesh and bone. He looked to his wife, who was looking at him and then he looked to his son who gazed lustfully after the girl. Aerys was far too confused to understand what was happening.
Rickard created that? She looked far too similar to the girl he knew. Maybe they were more alike than he thought.
No. That is most definitely her. The gods are playing a cruel trick on me. The King stood from his seat; no one seemed to notice for the room was still full of music, laughter, and chatter. He ushered the girl closer with his hand. She looked nervously towards Barristan; the grey-haired man nodded his head. She shuffled closer. The young lady was dressed just as should be. Though there was something off about her.
Aerys turned to Rhaella. "What is that?" he muttered pointing to the girl.
"Lord Stark's daughter?" Rhaella responded frowning.
Aerys glared at her and then turned back to the girl. "And I've got a cunt." He whispered inspecting her face. Her scared purple eyes looked to his, wide open and almost screamed as they looked to his own purple eyes. Though compared to hers, his were dull and almost begging for death, hooded, their beauty shunned by the dark circles under his eyes and the pink around his eye.
He could not take it any longer. It was his mind being cruel to him. When he woke, the girl would look just as ugly as her siblings. He mentioned for Ser Barristan to follow him and turned to his wife. "Come." He said. The girl had aroused him, reminding him of the days he would fulfil himself with as much pleasure as he pleased and he needed that getaway once more. His sister-wife was the quickest way he could get that brief pleasure.
He saw his son turn his head from his mother and father, bring ring clad fingers to his lips and stare off into the distance somewhere. Aerys huffed to himself and walked out of the hall followed by Rhaella and Ser Barristan.
...
The girl was more beautiful than Rhaella had seen. Her assumptions were made from either high above for from a distance. Under the candlelight, she seemed to twinkle and shine. She smiled gently to herself as she watched her dance with both Jamie Lannister and Oberyn Martell. The most handsome and highest named pair of suitors in the room. A bastard at that. It had confused her, Jaime did not seem like one to parade around with a bastard. Oberyn, she knew to be different when it came to things like that.
She saw the way her son stared at the girl once she was dancing with Oberyn, almost as if she was cursing Oberyn to choke on his breath from his seat. She shook her head.
After I warned him anyone but her. Rolling her eyes she heard the song come to a close, Oberyn say his goodbye to her and Arianne return to her seat where her whole family was sat.
The perfect time for introductions. "Ser Barristan," Rhaella whispered turning to her husband for a second only to see him in deep thought as he laughed to himself. She turned back to Barristan who now gave her his full attention
"Your Grace?" He asked looking at her and then the King.
"Call over the Stark's. And their bastard sister. I think introductions are in place, don't you?" She smiled.
Barristan nodded his head. They had grown closer over the years as Aerys became harsh. Barristan would be the one to nudge Viserys outside whenever Aerys would have an episode in the Throne Room, and Rhaella couldn't more thankful to the man who protected her child from seeing such things. No one else would put themselves at the risk of the Kings wrath the way he did for her.
"Of course," he replied walking off the high table. Rhaella nudged Rhaegar as the family stood from their seats and was escorted to the high table by Barristan. They introduced themselves one by one to the Whent children, then to Ashara Dayne, who already seemed to be acquainted with Eddard and Brandon Stark, then bowed low when they came to face to face with Rhaella and Rhaegar. Barristan introduced them name by name. Rhaella barely concentrated on the Stark siblings, she made small talk with the girl, Lyanna, but could not contain her excitement to meet the girl.
Aerys turned to greet the siblings, shooing them rather quickly Rhaella realized. Lyanna stayed behind to wait for her sister though.
"Arianne Sand, second daughter of Rickard Stark," Barristan finished.
Rhaella noticed how Lyanna stared at her younger sister, and how when walking down the steps Brandon, the eldest, turned around to look at his half-sister. A look Rhaella knew too well; one of love but nonetheless envious and the other a dangerous overprotectiveness.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, your Grace," the girl squeaked to Rhaella and Rhaegar. Rhaella smiled, she flicked her hand mentioning for her to come closer.
"Beautiful people make beautiful people," she mumbled looking at the girl for what seemed like a lifetime. Rhaegar on the other hand, she had realized had become taken with Lyanna Stark and was making small talk with her. Though his eyes would dart to Arianne from now and then.
He thinks he's slick. Rhaella thought to herself. She turned to Arianne. "How are you, child?" Rhaella questioned holding out her hand for Arianne to hold. The girl held it, softly, not wanting to hurt her Queen.
"I am well my Queen, and you?" she asked smiling back at her.
Rhaella almost cried. How could they have kept such a thing cooped up in the North for so long? But she had to admit, Lilia and Rickard were doing well to raise her. She seemed stupid though, and Rhaella meant it in the nicest way possible. She seemed as though all she was thought was the art of being a wife, unlike Lyanna who to Rhaella looked wild and unstoppable.
"I hope you are enjoying your feast. It seems you have caught the eye of many suitors," Rhaella smiled.
"Oh aye, but I'm sure I'm just a face to them. I am after all a bastard," Arianne said biting her lips.
"And Oberyn Martell cares of a bastard?" Rhaella questioned turning her head to the side. She saw Arianne's face light up slightly. "I want you and your sister to join me for tea tomorrow with the other ladies, ask your handmaiden to take you to the tea room and she will bring you. I hope to see you at the joust as well. My you are far too beautiful to be hidden from the lords and ladies of the south, how I wish I could package you in a trunk and carry you around with me." It seemed the last words had scared the girl a little as she looked wide-eyed at the Queen. Before Rhaella could excuse herself for rambling, Rhaella heard her brother-husband's voice hitch in his throat, and his body rises from his seat. He must have recognized her, and his madness must have amplified her looks.
"What is that?" he asked Rhaella, a sour look on his face.
"Lord Stark's daughter?" Rhaella responded.
Her response was thanked with a glare and a whisper of something she was unable to hear. Rhaella watched as he told the girl to come closer to him and how the girl did, but not willingly, and how he inspected her face for a time. The King looked back to Ser Barristan and then to his wife. "Come," he demanded.
Rhaella felt her throat hitch in her throat. She was worried about what he would do to her; he had not burnt anyone, had he? So he wasn't aroused. Maybe he wanted to question her about the girl? She did not know, but Rhaella did not want herself to fear him. So she held her head high, stood up from her seat and bid farewell to the two girls, her sons and the Whent's.
The music started, and Rhaella turned to see her son asking, "May I have this dance?" She smiled to herself. Always the charmer.
...
They called her the Purple Maiden. Ashara laughed at the thought; the girl couldn't have been any older than four and ten, two years younger than herself. Ashara knew the way the men looked at her; she did not recognize the glazed look that many of them held, almost as if they were not in control of where their eyes took them.
She had been reminded of her exotic beauty that she had inherited from her mother, Serene. The mother who Rhaella Targaryen had ripped her apart from by locking her up in the topmost tower of Starfall, the Palestone Sword. And how there were guards outside the door day and night. She remembered how her mother would slip out notes assuring Arthur and Ashara she was okay and had merely taken ill. She remembered how they were awoken by her screams one night and told of her death the next morning. It was horrible. How Arthur had told her what he saw, three brutes killing ten of their guards for no reason it seemed. Ashara would never forgive Rhaella for not allowing her to help Serena. Even though she was a child, she knew that something could be done for her. Anything to have kept her alive.
On the night of the first feast, Brandon Stark, the handsome young Lord approached her. It was not technically formal as he had snuck up behind her as she watched the dancers and laughed along with her brother. She had been mesmerized at how Oberyn moved with the young Whent girl, almost fusing his body with her own and moving her as if she were his. She envied the woman that stole the heart of Oberyn, though she knew he would struggle to stay...faithful. She watched as the young Prince watched Arianne dance with the Lannister boy, almost jealously, how Rhaegar turned his head when he saw Jaime pull her closer and the girl laugh and smile at his words.
"The most beautiful girl in the room standing in a corner alone?" He said smiling, arms crossed and staring down at her.
Ashara rolled her eyes. Could he have been a little more original? "She seems like the most beautiful girl in the room," she responded. Her Dornish accent made Brandon lightly groan. How was he going to keep his hands off of her? How was he going to do anything without Catelyn finding out now?
"Well I can't find my sister attractive can I?" he questioned.
"In Dorne, there is nothing wrong with a brother loving a sister. A bastard sister is even better. Besides our King and Queen are brother and sister, are they not? Are you suggesting their love is immoral my lord?" Ashara asked, looking up at Brandon slyly.
"You wish to see me killed my lady?" Brandon asked, laughing at her words. "My father and mother were cousins, I have little to back me up on family love. I am not the type, however, to swoon over the girl I used to beat as a boy," he added.
"Beat?" Ashara gasped.
"She had her fair share on me as well," Brandon confessed, not wanting to sound too cruel.
Ashara shook her head. "You have taught her the brutal ways of the North."
Brandon feigned shock. "And what exactly would you prefer she be taught? She can fend for herself and act as a lady should. The proper way."
"She is her own being, cannot she make these choices for herself?"
"You know how fathers are with daughters. It's either be set for marriage or be left to become an old spinster." Brandon shrugged, almost as if it were nothing.
Ashara nodded her head. "I forgot. In Dorne, bastards are treated as equals. Better even. A child of passion is a true child. A child by force is a reminder of all things terrible."
"I did not mean to offend my lady," Brandon quickly said. "She has been treated equally to my sister, brothers and I, better even at times. It seems father favours her from us all."
"You did not offend me, I merely pointed out the truths of the world my lord."
A short silence followed them, Brandon groaned inwardly. "Anyway...I came here to ask the most beautiful girl in the room to dance with my brother." He pointed to the young boy who had been sat silently alone at the table. His sister seemed to be occupied in a conversation with the young Lord Baratheon and his brother with Howland Reed.
"And what do I get for this favour?" Ashara questioned turning away from Brandon.
"Allow me the chance to take you outside, if the room gets too hot for you that is."
Ashara spun around, but it seemed that he had vanished into the darkness, she sighed and looked at Eddard Stark. He was now drinking wine, saying something to Howland Reed. She could not deny it, Brandon had intrigued her and his boldness to ask her to meet him outside had excited her or maybe it was the shit wine they served that got one drunk in a few moments, or maybe it was the fact that she was alone this entire damned Tourney. Her closest companion she knew would be spending her days with the Queen and her nights in bed. Picking up her dress she made her way to Eddard. Tapping the young lord on the shoulder, she seemed to have caught the wrong man's attention.
Howland stared up at her, almost hypnotized. Ashara loved having that effect on men. "My Lords, might I steal away Lord Eddard for a moment?"
His younger brother squeezed his shoulder staring up at Ashara, whispered something that made Eddard glare and turned back to Howland.
Eddard stood from his seat. "My lady," he said bowing to her. Ned couldn't have been more confused.
What was the most beautiful girl in the room doing speaking with him?
"Would you care to share this dance with me?" Ashara asked him, curving her lips into a smile.
Ned became dizzy, almost. He was sure he had fallen in love with her the moment her eyes met his, he was also sure that the girl he was talking to was Arianne until she opened her mouth to reveal her Dornish accent. He blinked at her. "Forgive me; you remind me of my sister so much."
"To foreigners, the Dornish all look the same," Ashara shrugged taking his hand as he led the way to the dancing space. Oberyn was still dancing with Merida.
"Just as I suspect you wouldn't be able to tell my brothers and me apart," Ned said smiling back at her.
Ashara nodded her head agreeing with him as they began to dance. "So, is this how it works in the North?" Ned looked at the beautiful woman in his arms, confused by her statement. "One brother asks a dance for another brother?"
He looked at his feet, his face turning red. "I had no idea Brandon was going to ask you to dance with me. He likes to...embarrass me."
Ashara tutted. Brandon seemed to be the overbearing type. "In my opinion, he is half the man you are."
Ned shook his head if Brandon had heard that. "You shouldn't say such things-"
"Why? Are you afraid of him my lord?"
"No," he snapped. Clearing his throat he said, "I haven't seen him in over two years. I don't want him being angry with me because of what someone else said."
Ashara scoffed. Hot tempered and a bully! She decided to change the subject. "Why haven't you seen your brother for two years?"
"I was a ward, at the Vale of Arryn."
"Then you would have attended Elia and Rhaegar's wedding, no?"
"Oh aye, I cannot say I have seen anything so grand. It seemed a little...too much," he honestly stated.
Ashara gasped in fake shock. "Don't let servants hear you say that. They'd skin you alive." Ned laughed, a laugh that Ashara found herself falling in love with. She had to admit, he wasn't the most handsome man she had allowed her company, but he had a charm to him that intrigued her. He, like the others, hadn't been drooling over her or blabbering like a fool when they danced. "I agree, though. The lemon cakes had too much lemon."
Ned nodded, his face twisting into one of disgust. "You should see the lemon cakes that Winterfell's kitchens make. They are heavenly."
"My lord, are you inviting me to your home?"
His face flushed red once more. "No! I meant-"
"Now I am uninvited, make up your mind you cannot toy with my heart so," Ashara said smirking at him.
He pinched the palm of her hand. "You...need to stop making me almost shit myself."
"You need to grow a pair and not let me almost make you shit yourself," she retorted, pinching him back.
...