16

Summary:

A bunch of small moments before Robert's arrival.

Notes:

Sorry for the delay, I had family over for ten or so days that I hadn't seen for over a year. Plus this is the longest chapter so far if you don't count the last two originally being one single chapter.

There is a implied sex and foreplay in this chapter but I bumped the rating up to mature a while ago so that shouldn't be much of a shocker. I also added the underage warning tag.

Also I did a bunch of small edits fixing some small errors in spelling. The things I said I changed in other chapter notes I actually finally changed, such as Loras' death not being in King's Landing with Mace, and the origin of the fire-ice hybrid egg. A few changes in heights were fixed to correlate to the reference at the end of the most recent chapter. I also changed Mara's name to Myriah as Mara seemed too close to Sara and wanted a clearer distinction.

Another changed I made Sansa a year older, I know it means Ned and Cat made up fairly quickly over Jon but I felt I needed her a bit older for a relationship with Jon to actually be fully explored in this story. So currently Sansa is nearly 12 and a half, rather than 11 and a half.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Margaery:

She never particularly liked waiting, not that anyone did enjoy waiting. Waiting for Jaehaerys and the wildling to arrive at supper was tedious, that is if they stop fucking to grace everyone with their presence. If that wasn't enough to stress Marg then the other future was.

When the two did finally walk in they were brushing shoulders and both smiling, chuckling at something that was said. Their hairs were tousled, half of Val's was falling out of her braid. A dusting of red upon their cheeks added to Marg's fears.

Splitting up Val moved to sit by the girls which incidentally meant right next to Margaery. Jon sat with the boys and the Greyjoy made a great deal of noise welcoming the secret Targaryen in celebration. Men. Not following his master the white direwolf instead padded behind Val and plopped down next to Sansa's wolf so it was at Marg's feet. Using her foot Marg pet the beast to sooth her worries.

Val spoke but not expecting or not wanting the conversation Margaery didn't bother to register the words in her mind. Blinking Marg turned to the damnable woman when the wildling poked her shoulder. "What?" Her reply came off a bit curt, her training evidently went out the window when feelings were involved.

"We didn't fuck. Me and Jon." Val repeated.

'Jon and I,' correcting Val's speech was on the tip of Marg's tongue before she comprehended what was just said. "Say that again."

Huffing, Val did just that. "We. Did. Not. Fuck."

The weight of the world was taken off Marg's shoulders, she tried not to look so relieved though judging by Val's slight smirk, Marg failed or the woman simply knew. With a clearer head Marg recognized Val didn't smell of sex, and she didn't look as if she had bathed so recently either. "Oh."

"Didn't so much as kiss. Clothes stayed on, even if they are now covered in direwolf hairs. The wolf was the only one being petted." Val tried to lighten the mood with a pinch of humor.

Sinking into her chair a bit, Marg celebrated in her mind. At first glance Margaery wouldn't have noticed but up close the white hairs of their little red eyed friend were clear. "At least you are wearing a fair amount of white," she jested.

The blonde's lips twitched upwards. "I'm told I took to wearing white last time as to physically show he had stolen me but I think it was really about not looking like I rolled in that one's sheddings." Pointing at the pup who looked back with ruby eyes as he panted happily from Marg's foot pets.

"White, might have to be the family color." Marg can see Jon wearing black and covered in Ghost's hairs proudly, she thinks it rather sweet. The original topic came back to mind, "Why didn't you two…"

"Fuck?" After Marg's nod, Val continued, "He hasn't proven himself yet in this time, plus after the talk I cannot say I was in much a mood for it, him even less. So we talked through things a bit, the Greyscale bit for one. We spoke of my culture mainly and played with Ghost."

That made Marg feel a bit stupid, but there are also men who couple for distraction and comfort, Jon didn't seem that type of man. "You must think me silly." Jealous would be a more accurate word.

"A little, but not for wanting him all to yourself, if you didn't then you would certainly be silly. I do find it amusing how much you try to win him when you already have him as much as I do."

Sansa:

There was one thing about Jon that she always knew: that she could trust him. Even though her mother and the septa used to go on spiels about how bastards were treacherous, she had always known he wasn't, well... except for that small period of time when she was told they were to marry but hadn't yet learned he was her trueborn cousin. Unlike Robb or anyone but her parents, he wouldn't tease her or tell the others if she came to him when scared, he just comforted. 

So after a dream of her father's head on a spike, she headed to him, he'd understand. She feared sleeping with her parents was not only childish, as if doing the same with Jon wasn't, but they had both died and with the knowledge of wights and the undead, she thought that might make her feel even less safe. Jon was different, he came back healthy, he didn't bow to death instead he fought it off. 

As she came to his door she had a moment where she wondered if Val was in there and Jon was busy with her. That thought didn't prevent her from knocking, maybe it even motivated her to. 

"Who is it?" Jon's almost instant reply startled her. Had he already been awake? 

"Sansa." She had tried to keep her voice quiet so as to not be caught sneaking around. 

A moment of silence followed and she almost answered again but he called her in. 

The door creaked ominously as she swung it open. Atop his bed, looking drained of all energy Jon sat leaning against his wall. Ghost was curled up in his lap over the furs. She gasped as she took it why he was awake this late or early, a little less than a dozen silver lines marred his chest. 

Gasping, Sansa forgot all about her own dreams as she moved to Jon with Lady at her heels. Ignoring the impropriety of the act, she scrambled to his side. No longer were her tears for herself and her father but for her future husband.

One of his arms pulled her close and he buried his face in her messy hair. For what seemed an eternity all he did was breath in her presence. Shivering as her hand explored his bare chest and traced the slightly raised silver slivers. His breath hitched as her hand touched the mark above his heart, the drum of his heart beating faster than any song's rhythm. "Are you disgusted? They aren't pretty." His quiet disappointed voice heated her scalp.

She pulled back from his warmth, offended. How dare he think so little of her! Though admittedly she wasn't the biggest fan of scars, she didn't like the tales they told, the silvery pink only spoke of violence and danger. "If I think of the story of the hero who bears them, they aren't so unpleasant. No more though, I like you better pretty."

The rumbling of his chuckling vibrated her arm. "I'll try my lady." Gently he pulled her back to his side in an embrace. His heart slowed from its racing pace to a quick but steady rhythm as his fears left him. His free hand combed through her fiery hair and he pressed a thankful kiss to the crest of her head. He pulled back to look her in the eyes and his voice was low and concerned as he asked, "What brings you here at this time of night?" Almost certainly he had seen the shiny wet trails on her cheeks when she arrived.

"I had a dream… of father…" Her reply came easier than expected even if she couldn't convey it all, but it was always easy speaking to Jon, he was a good listener and didn't tell the others.

He just held her closer and that was all she needed at the moment. He understood what she saw.

When she felt a bit better she spoke again, "Do- do you have dreams? Of the future, I mean."

Raising an eyebrow Jon eyed her curiously, "Aye. The scars only appear after I receive them in dreams. Last night: the eagle attack, now…" He didn't continue but he didn't need to, they both knew what he dreamt of tonight.

"Do you ever have happy dreams of the future?" Sansa recalled the first time she experienced a glimpse of the future when she and Jon shared their first and only kiss.

"Only once so far; our wedding, below the weirwood. We kissed during the ceremony even though marriage under the Old Gods does not require it." That beautiful soft smile of his was present on his face.

She hadn't dared hoped but he dreamt the same as her, their first kiss was something out of one of her tales. "I had the same dream when we kissed. You had looked so handsome and I'd never felt safer." His dark violet eyes shined kindly at her words. Sansa bit her lip nervously, "May I stay here for the night?" His arms were warm and comfortable, capable of making her forget all the tragedy and horror she learned over the day.

"It's not pr-"

"I'm aware." Sansa cut him off.

Sighing, Jon looked conflicted. "We aren't siblings any more. Things are different."

Sansa huffed, Jon was being stupid. "We aren't siblings, but we are to marry one day, I'm to be one of your wives and you my husband. Husbands share their beds with their wives, we won't do the other stuff as we aren't married but this is fine. Besides to everyone else we are still siblings and it certainly won't affect my marriage prospects if it becomes known."

Accepting defeat, Jon fell sideways onto the bed pulling her with him, she giggled as they fell like two tangled falling trees, they were two but also one. She adjusted herself to his other side and made herself comfortable with her head resting above his heart to reassure herself he lives, his lean chest was warm, hard but soft and free of gross hairs. Perfect, she thought as he covered them with furs. 

Ghost and Lady curled up together on the pelt below their partners.

That night Sansa had a lovely dream of summer, red bricks and a beautiful green garden. Of her daring Jon to eat a lemon slice. In her lap a young girl with Sansa's red hair but Jon's waves giggling with her mother as they laughed at Jon's puckered face.

Theon:

Theon!" The call echoed throughout the stone halls as if the whole castle was repeatedly speaking the name.

Turning on a heel Theon spotted one of Jon's numerous spawn, this man was the one that had his look the most. Theon had mostly given the Starks space over the past few days so it was curious one would seek him out. Since the talk they haven't looked at him the same, whether that was better or worse than before is still up for debate. So perhaps he had been craven; spending most of his time between the legs of Kyra and Bessa or drowning himself in ale at the Smoking Log. "What?"

Jael gave no acknowledgement of Theon's rude tone. "From all accounts I hear you are a fine archer."

That puffed Theon's chest out a bit, a nice stroke to his pride, not the same pride the girls stroked earlier but still pleasant. "What of it?" He was intrigued, beyond just his ego.

"You might have heard us talking about it, a tourney is expected to take place at the capital to celebrate Lord Stark becoming Hand of the King, if he does accept. Ten thousand gold dragons goes to the winner of the archery competition. We would like to secure the funds."

Holding back the incredulous snort was impossible, it shouldn't have surprised him but it did. "If I can win, why should I give the Starks the purse?"

"If you wish to be a part of this family I recommend you do. You wouldn't be the only one to give up their prize if they win. This will also earn goodwill with the family, that is sorely needed after your actions last time." Ah, a test of loyalty. This was the chance they were offering him but Jael managed to make it sound more like blackmail.

Of course the Starks would be willing to fork up any winnings for a cause but Theon wasn't a Stark. Ten thousand dragons is a lot of coin. Were the Starks worth that much to him? Though what he would be able to spend the gold on when the Starks turn hostile on him, he'd turn into the hostage he was always supposed to be. But surely if he won the Starks would reward him with more than their trust, they were not the type to not recognize loyalty.

As if reading his mind, Jael continued, "If you need more convincing, I should point out that women like an accomplished man. Plus five hundred dragons would be yours. Most importantly this." With his good arm he pulled a large black bow as tall as Theon off his shoulder and held it out for Theon.

"A bow?" Theon didn't see what was special about it. The black material was something he'd never seen before except on the weapons of the two dark haired half-wildling Starks or rather Targaryens. He tested its draw and the material was surprisingly flexible and strong.

Jael nodded in confirmation. "A dragonbone longbow, the best bow known to man. This very bow is made from Cannibal's own bones, the one you slayed. It is yours if you win. I can't guarantee it will stay if I return home but should it then it is all yours."

"You'd give this to me?" Theon couldn't help but be surprised, the bow must be valuable, dragonbone was rare, the material was the Valyrian steel of bows. And Theon thought the man disliked him but here he was offering his own bow.

Blank faced, Jael shrugged. "I can't exactly use it. I might not ever properly be able to use a bow again. Besides for killing the beast you deserve more than a tower being named after you postmortem. House Stark may have possession of the entire skeleton so it is just a matter of sucking up to Alsauna for a replacement."

"...I accept your challenge." The Starks' faith, a fair bit of gold, a rare bow, some fame, a fair prize considering that he might not have even competed if he wasn't given this chance. Plus one of the best bows in the world will certainly make the task easier.

"Then you best work on your hundred paces shots. The bow won't make you better on its own." Jael didn't waste any time disappearing down the hall. The damn mind reader.

Val:

Their lips were so close yet never touched, they breathed each other's breath more than cold air filled with the scent of sweat and trees. He held her arms against the ground above her head in the mud. Her legs were free to wrap around his hips and bring him closer as they stared, violet and blue meeting, both with hints of grey. A hardness met the mound between her spread legs and they inhaled together, the air they shared was divided into their lungs. 

One testing rock of her hips against his withdrew a strangled groan from his tempting lips. Another and another and his grip on her arms lessened. Quickly she jolted a hip upward with a twist while pulling down with her other leg, flipping them over. 

He looked at her stunned beneath her, but made no motion to remove her from his lap. Slowly Val cupped his face, a thumb tracing his parted lip as he inhaled a large breath as if to taste her from afar. Both her thumbs settled themselves on his high cheekbones, his eyelashes tickled their tips. 

"Blind," her voice came out as a seductive whisper. Feeling him twitch against her core, the shiver that passed through him, his hitched breath, all gave away the effect her tone had on him. 

"What?" His own voice made him seem far away, lost, though she was so close. 

Rubbing her thumbs across his cheeks again, this time some of the mud on a joint transferred to his skin. Clearer, louder she spoke, "I win. I could blind you. You almost had me." 

This time his sigh was not from pleasure. His hands rose to her hips, giving her a conceding pat. "Aye, next time I'll have to tie you down." 

"Save that for later. Best have an idea how to please me first before you have full control. Don't forget I won't be tied up easily." Rolling her hips on him once again. 

The face he made at her words and actions made her giggle. With the clean part of her thumb she wiped away the mud she accidentally dirtied him with. With the same hand she turned his face and kissed his other cheek. After one last wiggle in his lap she stood, releasing him from the confinement that was her straddling of him. 

He was a glorious red as he too returned to his feet. After staring at her for a few more moments a look of horror crossed his face as he snapped his head to take in their surroundings, every man in the yard was watching them, many just passing by were as well. His skin turned one of the brightest reds Val had ever seen after weirwood leaves and blood. 

She broke out in laughter as she pulled him away to where their weapons had been forgotten. Admittedly, there were some good things south of the Wall, like these clothes. The thinner cloth made for much more fun than the thick furs and heavy wool beyond the Wall. The warmer climate and castles also meant clothes could be shed more often as well, Val plans to take advantage of that benefit. How are they ever going to focus on actually fighting once they start fucking?

Jon:

Jon walked down one of the halls connecting many of the family chambers when he heard a sharp scream followed by giggling. 

Speeding around a corner from the quarters that the Tyrell branch of his future family was given residence was Aerea and a... squirrel? Trailing after the girl by a few seconds was Margaery lifting her skirts as she tried to chase the little girl. 

She skidded on her boot heels as she halted before him. Her hair was a frizzy wet mess. The dress she wore was loose but still secured on her body. The heavy rise and fall of her chest, the blooming red on her cheeks from the heat of her recent bath, exercise, embarrassment, or anger made for a fine sight. Never before had she seemed so beautiful and natural, this compared to the usual Margaery who always looked so well put together, it was like two different people. After a couple of heavy breaths she pointed down the hall where their daughter disappeared. "The squirrel stole my hairbrush..." Letting her arms fall and clap against her thigh defeatedly. 

A wide grin grew on his face, he couldn't help it, at least he didn't laugh. If he was to search for the thief and her partner he really shouldn't be spending so long staring. "D-do you want me to go... you know, get it back?" He offered awkwardly.

Laughing, Marg nodded before teasingly poking his chest. "Perhaps I shall even reward you." 

"A reward?" 

Those doe eyes of hers look up at him twinkling. "Yes, I'm thinking a kiss would do, you would be my hero for stopping the thieving menace that has been terrorizing my humble kingdom. A lady's kiss for the retrieval of my necklace." 

"A great reward my lady. I best hurry then, I wouldn't wish another to claim such a valuable prize." It reminded him of the games Jon and the others would play as children to feel like heroes and knights. Leaning into the role, he grasped one of her hands and brought it to his lips to kiss. "Farewell, my lady. I promise to return victorious."

"Be careful on your quest good ser, I have on good accounts that the thief is accompanied by a fierce beast. The duo are squirrely so I hope you prove yourself an able hunter." 

"Wolves are excellent trackers, and I've got their scent." A wave and he was off. He figured he already had a good idea where Aerea was, days ago he found her and her stash of apparently stolen goodies in the Glass Gardens on the top of the tool shelf.

Margaery:

Staring into the looking glass, Marg couldn't help but notice the large goofy smile on her face. Jon had looked at her so differently today, maybe it was just her imagination but he appeared to have rather stayed with her instead of wishing to flee like usual. Combing through her somewhat tamed hair with a hand, she twirled a lock with a finger. Gods, this man was turning her into one of those insipid girls drooling over any handsome heir. 

After talking with Val and her realization that perhaps she had been playing the role of what she thought Jon would like, she had given her man a bit of space as she tried to figure out just what she would act like without crowns or gold in play. It was harder than she thought, the line was so blurry between Margaery and all that her family, more accurately her grandmother, needed her to be. While it wasn't as if she felt like a puppet but she felt manipulated and molded, groomed really.

A pattern of knocks sounded at her door and the girlish grin returned. She turned on her bench and called the visitor in.

The first one she saw as the door swung open was Aerea with a soft apologetic frown, big round eyes of a golden brown looking like those of a puppy. Girl is already a natural. The squirrel was sitting in an open pouch on a belt far too big for the girl. The belt was tied in a messy knot of a child to fit. 

Behind their little girl was Jon, with a hand atop Aerea's head of messy curls. "My lady. This one would like to apologize for her theft."

"Oh?" Marg motioned the adorable child closer.

On her little feet the wild little girl took small nervous steps. "I'm sorry for stealing your brush. Papa stole it from me so he has it now." Moving her hands from where they had been hiding behind her back the girl presented Margaery with a pale blue rose, a winter rose. "This is from me and Zigs."

Carefully Marg took the offered rose, its stem dethorned. It was truly a beautiful flower and had as lovely a scent as any bloom of Highgarden. "It's beautiful, you have a fine eye for flowers. I accept your apology and the rose. Is this Zigs?" Looking at the squirrel in the pouch.

"Yep! She is from the Riverlands and so is Zags."

"Where is Zags?" Jon looked around the room nervously as if another squirrel was on another heist.

Aerea grinned, "I gave her to Robyn since they both have red hair. Zigs wants a handshake." Pointing a finger to the little rodent's extended arm.

Playing along, Marg met the small hand with a single finger and shook once down and up. "Remember to behave and if you want something ask rather than take."

"Papa already told me that. May I go back to playing." The girl was starting to look antsy.

Jon cut in, "So long as you behave."

That was all the girl needed to speed off.

Leaning back on her feet, Marg sighed. "She didn't really mean her apology. She knew she was playing us." She moved to close the door fully.

"She takes after you in that regard," Jon said once the door was shut.

That caused her stomach to drop. Why did he stay if he was just going to insult her? He wasn't wrong, Aerea definitely took after Margaery when it came to manipulating, not that it was a good thing. 

It was only when she turned back around and gave his face a glance, that she saw his fond amused smile turn into a frown. "I-I didn't mean it like that. S-sorry. I'm not the best with words. For having a poet for a father you'd think I'd be better. I just meant that she gets her wildness from the wolf's blood so it was nice to see a bit more of you in her."

Her stomach flew back into place fluttering like a butterfly. She let loose an awkward giggle. "We're rather bad at wooing each other, aren't we?" It was odd to admit failure.

His beautiful smile returned, "Yeah... At least you're pretty." She could tell he was jesting about their failures rather than insulting her character, this time.

"I could say the same of you." Heat rushed to her cheeks, most compliments did little to affect her. Those at court said such to any noblewoman regardless of the truth, Jon didn't strike her as that type of man though he will have to become one of them. "I assume the rose was your idea?"

"Aye. Aerea made her nest in the garden and the idea came to mind. M-my mother loved them." His eyes dropped a little at the mention of his mother.

She patted the other end of the little bench before her looking glass as her heart hammered like mad. The sentiment behind the gift suddenly made it much more valuable. "Like your daughter she has good taste in flowers. And here I thought you were bad at wooing ladies."

He gave a nervous chuckle as he sat. "I am. My only knowledge of wooing is to tell a woman her name is pretty, which was told to be by a six name day old Sansa, clearly that shows."

"Perhaps you should let your good looks do all the talking, these waves could make a maiden jealous," she teased as she fingered one lock of nearly coiling dark hair.

"Or perhaps we might get to know one another well enough that I don't need to speak at all." His accent and near husky tone made her mush.

Leaning in a bit, after all her hero still needed to be rewarded. "Please, never stop speaking. I find your accent stirring." She closed the distance and finally met those beautiful lips with her own. One of his hands came up to caress her cheek, the other wrapped around her back to rest at her waist. The sweetness of it all, the softness of his lips and touch, the safety she felt made it incomparable to any kiss she had before even if it was less practiced. As their lips melted into each other Margaery could think of little else than how right it felt. 

Though she never wanted it to end, their separation felt more like a new beginning than a finale. Margaery kept her eyes closed as she breathed heavy breaths but air wasn't what she needed, she needed more of those kisses. Opening her eyes to see Jon's lids still closed and in much the same state as her.

Jon:

Margaery seemed much more honest since they kissed, all her lies and dishonesty now only took form in jest, exaggerations and teases. She was definitely still a flirty person, at least with him. No longer did she always agree with him or weakly defend her side and claim him correct but now she was willing to tell him truths even if it wasn't what he would prefer to hear. It almost made him regret being so dismissive and rude to her after the first incident but that could have also made her never realize her errors.

"So how many girls did you kiss before me? It can't be too many considering your knowledge of 'wooing.'" Margaery asked as they walked into the sables to go riding. She had a confident smile, which irritated him as they both knew she was correct. Her guards were to saddle a few minutes after them. Lorys was once again acting as the chaperone much to the boy's ire.

He did his best to hide a scowl even though he knew she was just teasing about their talk from a few days ago when they first kissed. "One." 

She didn't seem too surprised by that. "Val?" The two women seemed to dislike each other, at least on Margaery's end there was distaste, he hadn't seen them interact of late but assumed nothing changed by Margaery's guess.

"Sansa actually. Val and I have come close on occasion but it has never happened." Just a day before he and Margaery kissed was when Val kissed his cheek after her teasing and his near third consecutive victory.

His answer did take the words out of the Tyrell's mouth. "Really?" After his confirmation she continued, "Wow, so she does have some fight in her. Wait! So you and Val haven't kissed yet."

"Not yet." The voice surprised them as Val caught up to them. "Kissed his cheek though."

Jon sincerely hoped the girls didn't rip him in two or claw each other to pieces. 

In a sing-song voice Margaery prodded at Val, "I beat you."

"From what I heard, Red beat us both. Besides, I'll get him out of his breeches first." To emphasize her point Val gave his arse a slap and smiled at the highborn lady.

"You better train him well then." Margaery's response surprised him and she must have noticed as she spoke up again, "Val and I have settled our differences. We have already talked about this actually. We talk about you quite a bit, she knows all about our kisses. We promised to give all the lovely details of our dealings with you. That doesn't explain why she told me you two have kissed many times." She crossed her arms and leveled a stare at the blonde.

Val only smiled back, "Motivation," she replied simply as they came upon the stables. "Are we going riding?"

"You wildlings are smarter than most give you credit for." Margaery stopped as she eyed her saddleless horse. "Jon, have you ever ridden bareback before?"

Eyeing her skeptically, Jon wondered what she was getting at. "Is this another reference to coupling?"

The girls gave a giggle before Margaery answered, "No. I don't always have coupling on the mind when I'm with you. Though I do conceded the term bareback does sound rather sinful. The poor septas and septons must hate it; it is sinful to couple completely void of clothes, it propagates lust and offers no difference in reproductive ability." Margaery said in a screeching tone mimicking a septa's lecture.

"This is the Southern religion you speak of?" Margaery nodded affirmatively to Val's question. "They sound like a sorry lot and beyond the Wall most fucking has to be done wearing fur because of how cold it is."

A large mischievous grin appeared on the Tyrell's face, "Then you will love it here or even farther south. Sleeping naked and sweaty basking in pleasure after a ni-" Margaery was thankfully cut off by Lorys' cough, their son was as red in the face as Jon felt. 

This was a completely different type of torture to the one he was expecting once Val showed up. Jon needed to get off this topic so he could think straight, if he rode without a saddle in his state of mind there would be a fair chance he was going to hurt himself. "To answer the question, no I've never gone riding without a saddle."

"Really? Even I have, and we rarely have access to horses, sometimes the saddles on the captured horses get worn down and discarded so bareback is the only option." Val's smirk turned challenging, it was the same one she uses when speaking of stealing.

Margaery mirrored the smile. "I broke my wrist as a little girl when challenged by my youngest brother." Her look turned teasing once again. "Come on Jon, just don't get hurt, we still have need of you."

Sighing, Jon moved towards his black coated steed, his favorite nameday present from Lord Stark. Under his children's advice he was trying to foster a bond with the horse so he could skinchange into it one day as he would Ghost. 

As Lorys moved to his own horse, Jon overheard him mutter, "Gross," to himself. Jon thought the boy would be used to his mother's antics by now but perhaps his mother is less forward and open in the future. 

Ned:

Traveling from his solar to meet with Vayon Poole to discuss some specifics of Robert's approaching visit, Ned heard Val's voice in the family room. "You know, according to free folk legend the Starks have free folk blood in them and not just being of the First Men." 

"That can't be true," Sansa countered.

Another female voice spoke up, "Oh do tell. This sounds amusing." Margaery, Ned recognized after a moment.

"It is one of Mance's favorite tales and songs. They say a King Brandon Stark called a great raider named Bael a craven who preyed on the weak as most of you southerners think of us. Bael, taking this as an insult and a challenge, climbed the Wall and entered this castle under the name: Sygerrik of Skagos, a bard. Sygerrik means 'deceiver' in the Old Tongue, Skagos means 'stone', two more words for you, Jon."

Ned needed no time to identify Jon's voice, "That makes six."

"Bael sang for an entire night for the king. So impressed was the Stark he let Bael name his own reward, Bael only asked for the fairest flower of Winterfell and he was given a winter rose."

This was why Ned had no taste for singers. They had a lusty reputation and a knack for word play as much as any snake in King's Landing.

"The next morn Bael was gone from the castle but so was the king's maiden daughter, on her bed was the single flower. Thus this Brandon was named Brandon the Daughterless."

His daughter let out a gasp that Ned could hear even behind the slightly ajar door. The story brought some thoughts of Rhaegar and Lyanna to mind, another musician and a Stark maid. 

"This Brandon had no other children and he had the crows search high and low for his daughter. When the king had given up hope he found his daughter in her chambers with a son. Bael and the lady had hidden in the crypts of the castle. They say they loved one another, but man rarely shares their own acts of evil, they twist it or hide it and we all are prone to exaggeration."

A wave of nausea came over Ned, as his mind twisted to a promise and a bed of blood. Of another Stark woman with a son in her clutch. He nearly dropped to his knees but instead leaned himself against the wall and breathed.

"The son would become the ruler of the castle and many years later when Bael became a king on his own. They met with armies at their back at the Frozen Ford but when the two kings met swords Bael refused to fight his son. Unknowing of his blood the son slew the father."

Sansa once more gave a horrified gasp, "That is horrible. Why would they not make peace as father and son?"

"The songs do not say, they end at the discovery of the babe, neither do the tales however they do continue. The mother, when she sees Bael's head atop their son's spear as he returns victorious, throws herself from a tower in grief."

Ned slid to the floor as he recalled tearful violet eyes, dark hair and tan skin as he returned the milky white blade and again as he denied her requests to raise Jon. Ashara too threw herself from a tower in grief, unknowing of Ned lie. In another time a tower of Winterfell would have claimed another victim in Bran, Ned wonders if his son and the lady fell from the same tower, hit the same spot, on second thought he never wanted to know that.

"Presumably the son had children of his own but he didn't live much longer, as no one is as cursed as a kinslayer. They say he was killed by one of his lords, his skin removed and worn as a cloak."

A dark silence followed the final reveal, it was broken by his and Jon's simultaneous whisper. "The Boltons."

"They are the ones who took this castle in the future, correct? The ones that threatened all of us?" Val asked.

"Aye," Jon's reply was dark, the same tone Ned's voice would have taken.

A huff was heard, followed by Margaery's voice, "I guess each of the Seven Kingdoms have one of those houses: Martells and Yronwood, Tyrells and Florents, Starks and Boltons, Lannisters and the Reynes, well I suppose the Lannisters have the advantage having already solved that problem." Ned admitted she was correct and if a house didn't have another vying for their spot one would appear when an opportunity arises, as was the nature of greed.

Hearing enough as the group inside the room switched storytellers to Margaery who began a tale from the Reach, Ned returned to his task, Vayon must surely be annoyed at Ned's tardiness. Currently they lacked any evidence of Bolton disloyalty, so why not look for it, Roose must be hard pressed to hide all of Ramsey's actions and might even be hiding some of his own. As much as he hated the practice, spies would be helpful right now, only men, he couldn't knowingly endanger a woman to Ramsay Snow. 

After a slow tedious dealing with Poole, Ned was returning to his quarters and Catelyn. His path took him past the family room where he overheard the story of the bard. Curiously he quietly peaked into the room, a heartwarming sight greeted him. All four of the occupants from earlier were snoozing on the large rug with furs atop of them. His dear eldest daughter's head was leaned on Jon's shoulder as she held the two sleeping direwolves close. Val was hugging Jon's leg while smushing her face into Jon's thigh right above his knee. Margaery took up half the rug with a limb going in every direction, one arm draped right over Jon's face. 

Leaving once again, Ned added having a talk with Jon and Sansa to his list of things to do but he'd thought too much about Stark girls having children for one day. Not to forget that it was inevitable they would one day have children, they already had in a way.

Val:

Soft footsteps approached her from behind, from her end of the steaming dark pool she had a full view of the weirwood's face but it made her vulnerable to the main path.

"It is getting late, almost dark already," Jon said softly as he moved to sit next to her.

Bumping his shoulder with her own, "Remove those boots and stay with me." Slowly she brought up her leg from the water, exposing the smooth wet skin below where her breeches were rolled up. Wiggling her toes freely, it was still a bit weird to see them so often, bathing was mainly hurried and hot spring locations were often kept private or the areas over hunted.

Hissing as he rolled up the cloth of his left leg, Jon shook his head looking at the bruise she gave him during their spar. He'd won all three of the days, not that it was easy and it certainly wouldn't be happening again. His leg brushed against hers as he slid it into the pool.

The way that little touch made her heart dance was strangely uncomfortable yet wanted. "You need not worry for me. I can traverse forests in the dark and this one is free of all the things that might wish me dead. You crows call the forest that is my home the Haunted Forest, wights and white walkers are not the only things deadly there."

Hooking her foot with his, he leaned into her shoulder and looked up to the sky as more and more stars became visible through the opening in the vast canopy. "It-it isn't that I'm doubting your ability, I'm confident you'd be fine but the worrying is still there." 

That's good, he needed to know she wasn't a delicate southern girl even if they were stronger than Val previously believed. "I'd say I'm more likely to survive in the wild than you but I am a wildling." She teased his leg with her free foot. 

"You're not wild, you're free. Not feral, just unrestricted." He looked down at her, in the low light of the moon his eyes appeared as black as the water.

Lightly biting her lip, Val couldn't hold back the smile. "Now you get it." Tilting her head she leaned forward and caught his lips with her own and put a hand in his wonderful hair. 

They were as soft as they looked. He was good, not so gentle as to be mistaken for wind but not so forceful that it felt purely lustful. The waiting and the near misses were worth it, this kiss felt more weightful than any they might have had before. The wait, the respect and understanding they've grown for eachother built this up to make it mean something. 

As they parted they rested their foreheads together while they caught their breath. Pulling back her head, she looked to the stars, the day was all gone now but Val was filled with a new energy and a smile that wouldn't fall.

Jon gave a breathy sigh and kiss right below her ear, an action that loosed a moan from her lips. If this man didn't know what he was doing then she was lucky to have found a man who just naturally wanted to please a woman and liked doing just that. "It is a beautiful night," he said as he turned his head to join her gazing at the stars.

Closing her eyes and grinning contently, Val couldn't help but feel highly vulnerable but she didn't care at the moment, her heart was up there flying with the stars or maybe she just needed to fuck. Two moons ago she would have laughed at the idea of her bedding a southerner, much less their future king, at least that meant he doesn't kneel to anyone. She had to hand it to Margaery and Sansa, they trained a good kisser.

"We should head back inside." His suggestion brought her back to reality even if it was a happy reality. 

She half wanted to stay and bask in this feel for the whole night, they could fuck right here below the stars, though out of the weirwood's sight. When dawn came they could bathe in the springs and sneak into the castle. Then Val could tell Margaery all the details and make Jon red in embarrassment at the same time. Unfortunately it was getting chilly and it would be even more so away from the hot springs where it would be safe to sleep, without furs they'd freeze. "Okay," her voice carried her disappointment as she swiped the water from her skin before pulling on her socks and boots.

On his feet before her, Jon offered her a hand with a soft smile despite him knowing her mood. As she came to her feet he just stood there with her hand in his and that curve to his lips. He pointed up to the starry sky, "Look there." Moving closer to align her vision with his aim.

In the sky flew a bright red star inside a constellation, the Thief was within the Moonmaid. She gasped and turned to him with a raised brow and a wild grin. Whoever told him that her people believed this was the best time to steal a woman didn't matter at the moment. "You are aware of the risks of attempting to steal me, Jon Snow?"

"I'll take the gamble, it'd be worth it." A smile was the only warning she had before he lifted her over his shoulder or as close as he could, he was still a boy in part, at least for tonight. There was no way he'd make it all the way to his room, besides she wanted him in good shape for the main event.

She put up a very hard fight, kicking and swinging fists, though her main attacks of arse grabs did not seem effective. Watching the weirwood disappear in the darkness, she giggled at the thought of any greenseers witnessing her and Jon's little part of history. Val gave a wink to the tree just for fun.

Jon:

His nervousness returned as soon as they came to the door. He could not comprehend why, Val's bloodthirsty arse squeezing was quite a positive motivation. Yet, here he was about to finally get his cock wet and now his body was shaking faster than any other living thing, those birds in the Reach that flap their wings a half a hundred times a seconds that Marg mentioned couldn't compare to Jon. When did it become as hot as Dorne and how is his blood not boiling from how red his face must be? Could he really do this?

Yes, yes he could. His hesitancy completely disappeared once he let Val in his room and she pulled him inside and into a deep kiss. Her entire body was pressed to him, the swell of her breast squeezed between them. A light nip at his lip and soon another tongue danced with his, it was a sweet battle between the two moving back and forth between mouths like a war front. The whole thing made his mind fuzzy.

Val maneuvered a leg around his own to bring his thigh to the junction between her long legs. Rocking her hips she rubbed his legs with her mound and her soft breathy whines and moans made him as hard as Valyrian steel. 

When he walked her backwards until her calves bumped the edge of his bed they finally parted and he realized how dark it was. Taking a step back, his hands tracing her sides, he reluctantly moved towards the fire.

She gave a whine, a seductive and alluring sound, so similar yet different to a child being denied a treat.

"I want to see you," his voice was low and husky as he spoke. Through years of experience he regrew the fire quickly and lit a few candles, he really wanted to see all of her. The first time he noticed her plucking at the ties of her clothes he nearly burnt himself, if it happened a few more times as he stared at her, he hardly noticed. 

Down only to a tunic and her underclothes by the time he had set up the lighting, Val was relaxed on his bed, eying him with her bare legs extended in his direction. Her honey colored haired out of its restricting braid and now splayed across his pillows. She was muscled but not overly so, not skinny but lithe and very womanly, wonderful hips and hints of equally great breasts "A sight for a sight. Show some skin."

Faster than ever before he shedded his clothes until he was left in only his own underthings. Crawling atop her she pulled him up and into another passionate kiss. He had to resist rubbing his tented bulge against her clothed core or he feared he wouldn't last long and he wanted to please her before he embarrassed himself. 

One of her not so soft hands explored his chest, the hard calluses satisfyingly scratching itches he didn't know were there. She was going to make him melt under her touch. The hand came to a stop above his heart, her pinky against a hard nipple as her thumb traced the scar above his heart.

Like death his heart stopped beating for a moment and his stomach dropped, he forgot about the scars. While Sansa didn't mind them, Val might, she fought off wights and the dead, what would she think? He pulled away from their kiss and looked to those closed eyes.

Her lids popped open slowly and half lidded to reveal her blue eyes, they took a grey color under the candlelight. Reading his fear she brought a hand to his cheek and her lip curled in a grin. "You're not like one of them, you haven't even died yet. If anything you told death to fuck off and go back to hell." Val's legs wrapped around his waist. "I find that incredibly attractive. So get this tunic off of me and quit delaying."

Doing as she commanded, he began pulling the top off and with her help they revealed her teets. Perky and well sized, a hand raised to cup one before he even realized what his body was doing. His light kneading and brushes against her tan stiff nipple cause her to moan and writhe her head around, he took the opportunity to pepper her extended neck with kisses. Pulling back and looking at the neglected breast he felt a long dormant urge. Instinct caused him to bring his lips to her tit like he was still a babe before weaning. 

That brought more moans from her and she put her hands in his hair holding him in place at her breast until she pulled him away. "I want more, hurry up," she purred in a way that sent an exciting shiver down his body.

He nodded stupidly at that as he pulled back. Oh how long had he wished to hear those three words in any form, as a son, a brother, a friend, a servant, or even as a husband or lover, it didn't matter if she only wanted his body to give her pleasure at the moment. His fingers hooked around her smallclothes and he looked to her for permission, she consented though with an annoyed roll of the eyes.

Peeling the garment off of her the light made the fabric glissen where it had kissed her folds. The sight of small honeyed curls and the wet pink slit made his mouth water, he wanted to kiss it just as the fabric had, lap up her nectar straight from the source. He'd never heard of such a thing being done, though he often tried to ignore Theon.

Resting his cheek on her knee, Jon kissed at her inner thigh. Meeting her eyes, he had to ask: "May I try something?"

Raising an eyebrow, Val nodded. "Make it quick." He noted her distaste in his manner of initiative.

All thoughts and fears of fathering bastards were forgotten as he kissed his way to her mound and lost himself in her folds.

Margaery:

Everything was just like that first time as she waited for Jon and Val to arrive at supper, though this time it was as they broke their fast. Margaery had a feeling this time was different, she felt they might have actually done it this time. 

Jealousy and envy still lingered in her heart but even she recognized that she and Jon could not couple or marry until later. Marg didn't wish to risk altering events any more than they already were. There were also the questions on their children, would they be born again? Would taking moon tea kill one of them should they quicken in her womb. Margaery was nearly fifthteen but being that young still had greater risks, Val was older. She could let the blonde do the main act while she participated in our pleasures with Jon or both of them, besides by the time Marg was ready Val could have taught Jon to please a woman expertly.

She regularly glanced at the back entrance to the hall as she sat with the girls, Mira, Roslin, and the Jeynes got along well with everyone. Rumors already spoke of Val being Jon's lover after the incident they had in the yard, men are just as much gossip as ladies.

Nearly a quarter into her meal, the missing pair arrived. They were alone as Ghost had spent the night with Robyn, Marg admits that would have been another hint they had bedded each other. Ultimately that didn't matter because it became clear by Val's smile at Marg and her wearing all white again that they clearly fucked. While Jon moved awkwardly to where the boys sat, Val moved to a spot across from Margaery.

Wiggling an eyebrow and holding back a laugh from looking at the state of Jon, Marg turned to Val. "Care to explain why he looks like he got kicked in his jewels while you look like the most pleased woman in all the Seven Kingdoms? I'd have thought he'd be the chipper one or as close as he might get to chipper."

Val's large grin nearly split her head in two. "First of all, he is a great kisser," she shifted her glance between Marg and Sansa approvingly. "Second, do all lords do that thing with their tongues to their ladies?"

Perfect, Marg thought happily, no wonder future Margaery would be happy with him! She had a fair idea of what Val meant, but she wanted details. "Do you mind elaborating, there are a great deal of things one might do with their tongue?"

Eyes twinkling at Margaery's suggestion, Val looked down the table a few seats to where the boys appeared to be trying to listen in and Jon's face hidden down on the table. "He did many things but I meant licking my…me down there." She looked a bit hesitant with her wording as she eyed the young children nearby, perhaps she was unsure how open they were here.

Sweet Sansa spoke before thinking, "He licked your-" Quickly she clamped her hands over her mouth as her mind caught up. "But isn't such a thing sinful, the-"

That broke Margaery's will to hold back a laugh. "Oh, you poor poor thing. You sound just like that septa of yours. There is more to coupling than making babes. A woman should be wet down there, from what I hear men often don't properly prepare a woman. Many men refuse to go down on a woman, even though they force women to use their mouths."

Sansa tilted her head curiously as she listened as her face slowly became as red as her hair. Slowly Val and Marg would corrupt the overly pure girl. That was a strangely arousing thought.

"Now, let's get back to why Jon was practically waddling to his seat earlier." Margaery lightly clapped and leaned forward towards Val.

Snorting, Val stifled her laughter as much as she could. "He-he tried so hard to please me and was so nervous he couldn't finish. We were at it until I was very satisfied and it was starting to hurt both of us, him mostly. I did manage to get him to finish him with my mouth as he didn't have to worry much about pleasing me like that." Marg was surprised Val managed to get through her explanation with how much the girl was laughing. The girls joined her in giggling at the hidden king. 

"So you peaked?" That was the important question, Marg wanted to know.

"Oh, many times. Once from his tongue at the start, a few more times before we finished. He was a little too focused on pleasing me and forgot himself." Val looked towards the man, Jon let out a groan as if in agreement.

Shyly Sansa asked: "Did it hurt? The start, I mean." The girl was a tomato with two sapphires pushed into its skin. Margaery was confident she could fry an egg on Sansa's forehead.

Val bit her lip. "A little, your body has to stretch a bit to get used to someone inside you. After a while the pain disappeared but I was really wet which helped and Jon gave me time. My maidenhead was already broken and I've heard it is worse with it. I doubt I'll be in pain next time though. I was just too tight this time." Jon evidently agreed with another groan.

"So any more goody details?" Sara's question brought everyone's eyes to her, all those who knew of her relation to Jon were slack jawed. "What? This is one of those things you are strangely curious about. Don't judge me, it is a matter of knowing if my family is proficient."

Laerra spoke up in her sister's defense, "Its family pride really, we have a reputation for being great lovers to our partners."

At this point Jon's head was up with a face of such mixed horror and pride, Marg literally fell out of her chair clutching her stomach laughing. 

Apparently Sara wasn't done, "Specifically for our talent with our tongues. Haella calls it the singer's tongue after our grandfather and because of our tendency to make our lovers sing in pleasure."

Finding his voice, Jon put his foot down. "We do not need to hear about this."

Marg disagreed, this was absolute gold. "Yes, we do." She hasn't even got to hear how big he was yet.

"I'd rather we hadn't…" Oh gods, Marg completely forgot that Lord Stark sat right there in the middle of the table next to Lady Catelyn.

Robb sided with the other Stark men, "My appetite has been ruined."

Seeing his friend join the conversation opened the door for Greyjoy, "I'd say the opposite for myself, I might have to head into Wintertown to be sated."

Echoes of "Gross" echoed through the table.

"Can we please stop discussing our sex lives, I'm trying to eat." Cailin's scowl was a scary thing, a mix of Targaryen, Stark and Tully.

Shaking his head, Eddard Stark's more handsome look-alike; Jonnel, got the last word in. "This is exactly why we keep Sara in the library all day."

Ned:

Oh, how he wished Moat Cailin had already been rebuilt. If the upcoming wars were not enough then just for the sake of having a castle to receive word of Robert's progress. Howland and Greywater Watch being unable to send or receive ravens made Ned blind, with only Alsauna's initial estimate for reference. It wasn't like Robert had the care to send ravens at any keep he visited while in the Riverlands. So, he was stuck waiting for the one day warning to come from Castle Cerwyn even though it is only a half day ride. It had already been two and a half moons since they'd gotten word of Jon Arryn's death and Robert's departure.

The knock on his solar door startled him. Was it nearly time? Called in, Jory entered to explain. "The guards say an envoy from a Dornish glass merchant arrived and wishes to meet with you, my lord."

That saves Ned the trouble of finding a good supplier for the bathhouse roofs, but how would they know he sought more glass. Perhaps it was just a business move, the North could benefit from more glass gardens. "Have a guard escort them here." Jory nodded and did as Ned said before returning to his place at the door.

Winterfell was a large sprawling castle so it was no surprise it took quite a few moments for the representative to arrive. Bundled in their cloak and holding a package, Jory closed the door under the eyes of the guest. Mostly grey hair with just the barest hints of brown sprouted from his face in a trimmed but bushy beard, short hairs poked out underneath a wool hat. Curiously, the man didn't look much like a Dornishman, not tan enough to suggest Rhoynar or Andal blood, his grey eyes signified a heritage of the First Men if anything. "It's a helluva lot colder up here than I remember." The man's voice had a slight Dornish accent to it. He set down his package on one of the seats by the door.

Something in his mind spoke of familiarity but Ned couldn't place it. "You have been to Winterfell before?"

"Not in a great many years, I'm afraid. I've wanted to return many times but the option just wasn't available."

Ned only recognized the man hearing the melancholy in his voice and how he looked over his shoulder at the door. "Martyn?"

"Eddard." Martyn Cassel threw his hat on to his package, not that the act made him much more recognizable. "We need to talk."

Gulping Ned nodded, this conversation wasn't going to be pleasant. "Aye. I assume you are aware of who is nearing Winterfell?"

Pulling out a chair, Martyn took a seat across Ned's desk with a grim face. "I know lots of things and because of that I was sent to ensure you did nothing stupid, like last time."

"You know, so you met the Tyrells?"

Martyn nodded, "No Tyrells, only silver roses. The Tyrell remained in Sunspear, I never met him. Left the day after they came, we wanted to make sure you didn't send him to the Watch."

Gods, he hadn't thought of them, only Jon. In trying to protect Jon, he'd have made their partial exile permanent. They deserved so much better than Ned, the North did. "I've been made aware that it was a terrible mistake and it won't happen again. My apologies for my treatment of your sacrifices."

Giving Ned no peace of mind, Martyn didn't accept the apology, "You shat on our sacrifices. I left a son and a brother, my only living son. I volunteered but you threw all we gave up in flames. He died in the cold up there with no one. The only reason I don't punch you in the face is because we need you at the moment. Besides, my son died for you, you didn't know that did you."

"No, I didn't know."

The hard exterior of a toughened Northmen fell and morphed into that of a caring father, "What is he like?"

Closing his eyes, Ned sighed. "A good man, like you. He's my captain of guards, he and your brother are my two most trusted men. Everything else you can learn yourself." Ned stood from his seat, his joints a little stiff.

"You mean…" Martyn looked as if he didn't expect to meet his son as himself.

"Aye, I said I trust him and I trust you." Ned moved around his desk and Martyn was already on his feet. Next thing Ned knew the air was knocked out of his lungs from a punch to the gut.

Looking down at the bent over Lord of Winterfell, Martyn gave him a shrug for his betrayal. "Thank you but you still deserved it. I'm not at all sorry."

He did deserve it, Ned thought. Leaning on his desk as he recovered from the punch, Ned was thankful Jory didn't seem to hear his lord getting assaulted, that would have complicated things. When his breath returned, Ned gave a raspy, "Fair enough. Stay here, I'll give you two some privacy."

"Don't tell him, I want the honor," Martyn said as Ned passed him.

"Then you shall have it. Martyn, I can't give you those years back but I'll try to find a way to thank you all for your sacrifices." Ned wondered, if Jon already had, the boy had a knack for fixing Ned's mistakes, ironic really as the realm believes the boy to be Ned's greatest error. Opening the door, Ned looked to Jory. "Enter the room, bolt the door and speak to the man. You're free of your duties for the day. Don't speak of anything you hear in that room to anyone, you don't know eachother once you leave."

With a confused look Jory followed the orders and disappeared into the room.

Ned waited to hear the bolt sound before leaving. He was happy for the two men but it also meant he'd soon have to face more of his past, not that it ever left him. What he really dreaded was Barbrey Dustin, along with her wrath would come trouble, and the Ryswells would certainly join her.

Sansa:

Even though her mother knew that the boys had fine clothes to wear for the king's arrival on the morrow, she had wanted to see the boys tidied up and make sure they lived up to her high standards and to ensure their fine clothes fit perfectly. So Sansa sat with Margaery, Val, and the other girls waiting for the boys to come out one by one to be inspected by the lady of Winterfell as they had days prior. Mother, who has been giving Jon extra attention when in private for the past sennight to make up for their past, called Jon first and Sansa waited in heart throbbing anticipation. 

In walked Jon from the other room and Sansa's heart skipped a beat. He looked so handsome and regal, his embarrassment and awkwardness only made him seem more humble. Over black underlayers he wore a white and red halved surcoat, Ghost depicted on his hinds in the red half. She may or may not have sighed dreamily over his appearance. Was she drooling? 

"Me likey," Marg said aloud as she openly gave a clap of approval. 

Val leaned forward purring in appreciation. Before her expression turned seductive. Sansa tried not to think about what the blonde had planned for Jon, if she goes to sleep thinking about it she gets dreams that leave her flustered.

The other girls have less apparent reactions but all positive, both Jeynes, Roslin, Mira were all blushing. Cailin and Minisa met each other's palm with their own, making a clapping noise, happy with their work even if they made all of the Starks and family's fine clothes.

As her mother started to fuss with little tiny details, Jon looked over to Sansa, Marg and Val pleadingly, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden care. His jaw dropped when his eye fell on Ghost, the white direwolf wore a red ribbon around his neck as he sat panting on Val's lap. Jon looked so betrayed even her mother laughed at his reaction.

Notes:

I definitely could have done a bit more to build up the relationships a bit more but considering we are 16 chapters and 100,000 words in and Robert hasn't even arrived I think I need to pick up the pace a bit. As you can probably tell I have not mastered the art of removing flubber from my chapters and perhaps cover some events that might be better summarized. I feel I might be over explaining the character's feelings when it might be better to let the reader read between the lines and other hints.

It feels oddly intruding writing about pre-foreplay and presumably the same thing for smut. I've never written something like that so hopefully it turned out well. That kind of thing is probably going to be as far as I take the smutty side of things. I feel dirty enough just writing that part. Think of it as pseudo-smut. I felt it was kind of needed storywise to get Jon's perspective and thoughts that couldn't be covered in the after conversation from Marg's third part.

Completely irrelevant but I find it interesting that many of the constellations of ASOIAF seem to have a slight connection to Jon in their names. In his chapter he says "he was old friends with the Ice Dragon, the Shadowcat, the Moonmaid, and the Sword of the Morning." Ice Dragon = Jon or Rhaegar (As in dead dragon), Shadowcat = Balerion(Cat) / Rhaenys, Moonmaid = Lyanna (kind of a stretch) or Dany, Sword of the Morning = Arthur / Ashara (rumored mother). Some other ones like Crone's Lantern connecting to his first encounter with a wight, Horned Lord could be Sam. The King's Crown, Jon being on the good side of three kings and having a claim to a crown himself. But you can twist most things to find a connection, it is fun though to over-analyze.

Next chapter will be Ned's perspective of the first few days of Robert's stay at Winterfell.

Upcoming Chapter POV Order:

Ned II (Robert's Arrival)

Multiple POVs III (Robert, Jaime, etc.)

Elia II

Sansa I