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moon-ruled-rising · 4 years

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as the rain hides the stars | xi

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xi: clinging to the wild things that raised us

We can build a tree house in the pine trees,

we can keep our secrets buried underneath.

Wildflowers crush between your fingers,

clinging to the wild things that raised us.

-Zella Day, “Compass”

On the day they left King’s Landing, Jon was up early, as was his habit. Sansa and Robb were still asleep, and he didn’t want to wake them, but he was restless. He would have gone for a run but he didn’t know the area nor did he want to take the chance of running into another interested courtier. It seemed that no one at the Southern court knew how to mind their own business.

The three days spent in the glittering court of the Red Palace felt like an ongoing interview, constant questions and feigned interest with no end in sight. Jon never liked the spotlight, a trait he inherited from his father no doubt, but in his life that much attention was never a good thing. If his name was in headlines, it was usually a criticism of his behavior. Even though Jon tried as hard as he could to never step over the line, the line continued to move. Creeping closer and closer until he would have no room left to go.

Most of the time his slip ups went under the radar but when he first came home from his time on The Wall, he wasn’t so lucky. He was fueled with anger and resentment for his position and wanted nothing more than to take it on someone other than himself.

And then there was the inevitable engagement. All the scrutiny and harsh words would increase ten fold. Even if it did end well and his people were saved, they would never forgive him for marrying someone with a rap sheet like hers. They were both doomed.

As he readied himself for a day of travel, he received a text from Sansa. A link to a blog dedicated to posting pictures of royalty from all over the world doing mundane things. However, the most recent posts were just photos of Jon and Daenerys from the Dragon Pit club from two nights ago. They boasted captions calling the two ‘cozy’ and speculating at a deeper connection. From the angle the photos were taken, Jon could see where it looked like that but he knew the actual conversation was anything but.

It wasn’t long before they were taxiing down the runway in a Targaryen owned jet. Rhaegar insisted they take it, although the Starks were fine with commercial travel.

The compact interior of the private plane reinforced the cramped feeling that already followed Jon. But as the jet soared over the grey-blue waters of The Bite, he felt his jumbled and off-balanced state from the past couple of days slip away. Even as the constant reminder of his eminent fate sat right across from him he felt more comfortable knowing he would be home soon.

Across the plane from him, the Princess Daenerys still had a pair of dark, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose. They hadn’t moved since she said goodbye to her friend at King’s Landing. Despite her smiles and waves, Jon knew she would rather be anywhere but there. Her security officer sat with her, the two carrying out a conversation in hushed tones.

When they landed in White Harbor, Jon breathed in relief. There were no paparazzi this time. No flashing bulbs, no raucous cries from nosey reporters. They slid through the airport with ease, unbothered despite being the most important family in the North returning from a very important trip.

White Harbor was the North's closest thing to a city but it was still small compared to the great beasts of the South. There were no high rises to be found, all the buildings favoring the old styles and keeping the city’s charm in place.

The mayor of White Harbor greeted them at the town hall along with Lord and Lady Manderly and the rest of the Stark entourage. Queen Catelyn, Bran and Arya, and Talisa. Although, Talisa would have to watch the proceedings from the crowd as she had no official standing with the royal family.

As soon as Jon was in eye sight of Arya, she bolted for him, enveloping him in a hug with all the force of a bear. After Robb, Arya was his closest sibling. Their bond was partly driven by the fact that they looked more Stark than Tully. They both had their father’s dark hair and grey eyes, Sansa and Robb took after Catelyn with auburn curls and blue eyes.

“I was only gone three days,” Jon laughed, returning her ferocious squeeze

“It felt like forever. Especially with mom babysitting us.”

Bran came second, his usual few steps behind.

Talisa and Robb were already arm and arm. Jon’s heart arched. He would never have a chance at the affection he witnessed between them, not that there had ever been much of a chance anyway.

He’d gone so far as to deny himself a love life to avoid a scandal. He and Ygritte were brief. A quick, private affair near the end of their high school careers but they both knew it could never be anything serious. Any future contender for Queen Consort had to be from noble blood. And Ygritte, with all her charm and wild beauty, was anything but. Her father was a political upstart who made something of himself but there was no land or title to go with it.

It was much easier with no baggage from past exes and no possible tell-all articles. But where he fell short in romantic entanglements, he made up for in physical confrontations.

Daenerys smiled through the introductions, playing perfect princess before disappearing into the restroom to change.

“Why is she here?” Bran asked, once she was out of ear shot.

“She’s helping us finalize a treaty,” Ned answered, looking between his other children who were in the know.

His message was clear, ‘Don’t tell them’.

“What do we need the treaty for?” Arya questioned.

“That is a topic for the next family meeting.”

Ned whispered something to Catelyn and the two walked away. Jon watched them wander down the hall to another seating area.

“Is anyone going to tell us what’s really happening?” Arya folded her arms over her chest and glared at her older siblings.

“We have a right to know, “ Bran seconded.

“Jon’s engaged,” blurted Sansa.

“You’re what?” Arya gasped.

“That was fast,” Bran responded at the same time as his twin.

Jon gave Sansa an ‘are you kidding me’ look and she mouthed sorry in return.

“It was dad’s idea and I’m sure Catelyn knows but it’s supposed to be a secret. The public can’t know until we’re ready to tell them. We aren’t even engaged yet, the documents haven’t been signed.”

“Ned mentioned a treaty and Jon came back engaged. What happened down there?” Talisa chimed in.

“I think I’m going to side with my dad and say that’s a topic for the next family meeting.” Robb looped Talisa’s arm with his and led her away from the little gathering.

Arya and Bran were already glued to their phones again, their hushed voices gushing over the newest app they’d discovered. Out of all the Starks, they were the most tech savvy. They drove the press secretary mad with their under the radar social media accounts with outrageous names. Although they always covered up their faces in the photos.

“You know, you should really try to talk to her,” Sansa prompted, not looking up from the magazine she’d returned to flipping through.

Jon didn’t need any elaboration.

“I have nothing to say to her.”

“She’s not as bad as you think.”

Jon gave his sister an incredulous look.

“And you’re both going through the same life changing event.”

“Just the other day you were wholly against her.”

“And? People’s opinions can change.”

“Sansa-” he started.

“I love your outfit, Your Royal Highness,” Sansa smiled as Daenerys came out of the restroom.

“Oh, thank you.” the princess looked up from the notecards in her hand and returned Sansa’s smile.

For a moment she didn’t look so venomous.

“And please, call me Dany. All my friends do.”

Sansa grinned, shooting a look at Jon before turning back to her magazine. Dany, as Jon figured she wanted to be called, smoothed down the back of her black skirt as she sat. Her usual warrior-esque braids were simplified into two twists holding her soft, white-gold waves out of her face.

Sansa and Dany might be on good terms now but she had yet to make a good impression on Robb and the twins.

Sansa flipped another page of her magazine, the crisp sound sharp in the silence of the room. Jon watched her as her eyes darted from the page to him and to the Princess beside her. He could see the gears turning in her head.

“You know what, I’m going to take a look at the crowds. Arya, Bran, wanna come with?”

Jon went to call out after her but she was already halfway down the hall, Arya and Bran trudging along with disinterest.

“Play nice!” she called over her shoulder.

He groaned and Dany chuckled.

“She’s a handful, that one.”

“You’re telling me,” she sighed.

He considered what Sansa said and swallowed his pride. What could it hurt?

“ Dany-”

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered, not looking up from her notecards.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Only my friends call me Dany and as far as I’m concerned, Your Highness-” she looked up in a sharp gesture, “we are not friends. Acquaintances, maybe, but certainly not friends.”

It could hurt a lot, apparently.

She stood, as if to leave, when the royal family’s press intern rounded the corner and announced that it was time to begin the event.

The Starks were old fashioned and kept a press secretary. It was an outdated station, the only responsibility being to send official statements to all news outlets. Their current secretary had asked for an intern to help with an official social media presence to keep the threat of paparazzi at bay. It worked as far as Jon was concerned.

They were led from the town hall to the small stage set up outside. A canopy overhead meant to shade them from the sun or, more likely, the rain as the thick clouds crowding the sky looked dark. The Stark sigil of a grey wolf on a white and green background was displayed on banners, floating lazily on the breeze.

Jon held out his hand to assist Daenerys up the steps. She was wearing a pair of precarious heels and he knew that stairs were a challenge for any woman in them. He’d watched Sansa parade around in them, and Arya wobble behind in a valiant attempt, for years.

Daenerys allowed her hand to hover over his to avoid being labeled as rude or too bold by the audience. The people were watching and someone was bound to notice if she blew off his chivalrous offer.

The mayor started his short introduction speech, followed by a few words from Lord Manderly. As usual they were politically perfect and manufactured. Just like the Princess’ words would be too.

When Lord Manderly announced their visitor's name, there followed a polite applause. She approached the podium with grace and a smile, a forced one Jon was sure.

“Thank you, Lord Manderly, for the warm welcome. Speaking of warmth, I always thought the North was cold and snowy but she’s proved me wrong. The weather is beautiful and so is the landscape. I’ve only been here a short time and what I’ve managed to see through airplane and car windows has taken my breath away.”

Jon wondered if her statement was true, or something generic used by the Royal Family for all foreign visits. But the way she delivered it was so impressive Jon could just as easily be convinced they were her own thoughts.

“I come before you today, not in any diplomatic capacity, but as a guest of the Starks. And as a woman who wishes to nurture a much friendlier connection between our two lands, who for so long have acted distant and foreign to each other despite being neighbors.”

She continued on but Jon’s mind wandered, her words fading into the background. There were news cameras at the front of all the people, capturing everything from all possible angles. Reporters stood by them, anxiously accepting the Princess’ words about her excitement to see the North and her hope for a stronger friendship between the two nations. He wondered if the people watching in their homes were reacting the same way.

A Targaryen hadn’t been in the North since the 13th century. That Targaryen was one of the hundreds of Aegon Targaryens that conquered the south, a name so lucky they recycled it. Despite being the King who refused to bend the knee, one never saw many people named Torrhen.

The closest he'd encountered was his friend Tormund Giantsbane. A member of the Free Folk settled in the Gift who spent so much time around Castle Black he was as much a Brother as anyone else. He refused to join them because of the bad blood between the Free Folk and Night's Watch, considered it a betrayal of Wildling ideals. Jon tried to convince him to join Ygritte at The Smoking Log, but he refused. Winterfell was too far south for him.

At the end of all the formalities, the royal family set out to mingle with the citizens of White Harbor. Jon set out on his own, shaking hands and greeting the people gathered there, a security officer not far behind. For the first time in days, his smile wasn’t forced. Something about having his feet on the ground and moving through crowds was natural to him.

Shaking hands with people and talking with them reminded Jon of the responsibility he held. A King should be seen by his people and the people by their King, he recalled Ned saying once. His father was always dropping pieces of advice into their regular conversations, he thought it was the best way to share them.

Daenerys was a few feet away also smiling and being on her best behavior. Jon couldn’t help but take interest in the way she bent down and hugged the children that were there. He knew she was an aunt but not every aunt was a good aunt. He’d met Catelyn’s sister, Lysa Arryn, on a few occasions and she scared him, even as a grown man.

He shook another hand before his security officer was ushering him toward the fleet of cars that would take them to Winterfell. Unfortunately, he had to share a car with Her Royal Highness. While her mood appeared to have mellowed, she was able to turn dangerous in a second.

Once out of the city, Jon realized how much he’d missed the countryside. The beautiful green revealed after the morning frost melted away. The White Knife, the impressive river that flowed from the Lonely Hills to the Bite, followed them for most of the journey, adding to the beauty of the scene that surrounded them.

He’d never been so happy to see that particular shade of green, except once when he returned from The Wall. It was the one positive thing he could focus on as he was dragged away from the one thing that gave him a tangible sense of purpose.

It wasn’t long until they were approaching the gates of Winterfell. The Wolfswood rose up to the West, impressive with its sentinels taller than the castle walls. Jon chanced a look at the Princess as she gazed out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of her first impressions of the castle. Although she tried to hide it, he saw the glimmer in her eye as they passed under the south gate.

They climbed out of the cars, Jon tried not to give the princess a hard time. She was looking around, all of the disinterest in her gone. Something shoved his shoulder and he turned around to find Sansa, who was motioning toward their guest. Offer her a tour, you dolt, her eyes screamed. But Jon wasn’t ready to make nice yet. And a tour of his home, just the two of them, was much closer than he ever planned on getting to her for a long while.

Sansa shoved his shoulder again but Ned called Jon’s name and he thanked the Gods he avoided that bullet.

“We have the Council meeting to get to,” Ned reminded him.

Upon second thought, an inconvenient tour with the one person he couldn’t stand seemed like the much better option.

“I was about to give our new guest a tour of the castle,” Jon offered, hoping he sounded convincing. “That’s quite alright, I can handle it. You don’t need to keep the great lords waiting,” Catelyn stated, detaching herself from Ned’s side.

Jon took a deep breath.

As he imagined, the small council was not pleased with the fact that they’d brought home a foreign princess. He stood at his father’s side as the Lords bickered, their voices amplified by the stone walls. By the end of it all, Jon would be rubbing his temples the way his father was.

“As I’ve said before gentlemen, I have considered all options and this treaty is the only one that works. Both now and in the future,” Ned defended.

“It’s ludacris!” Karstark bellowed.

“A betrayal to our values,” shouted Umber.

They'd even managed to make Lord Umber mad, and the Umbers were the strongest supporters of the Starks.

The Lords of the North weren’t ‘yes men’ by any means. They were direct and staunch and not afraid to be honest with their king. The only time they feared him was when he was in a wrathful mood. And Jon had only seen his father that way once, when he announced his wish for the legitimization.

Jon remembered sitting outside the great room with Robb, their ears pressed to the heavy wooden door as they did for every council meeting. However, they weren’t prepared for the news they were about to hear.

“I want to make a motion to legitimize my son Jon, so he will succeed me to the throne.”

The room erupted into shouts, in much the same manner Jon experienced now, as Jon and Robb pulled their ears away from the door to stare at each other with agape mouths and wide eyes. At only ten years old they understood the implications. Both of their lives were about to change.

Jon found Roose Bolton situated in a far corner, his face was always hard to read but his expression at this latest news was plain. Exasperation. The voices around them continued but Jon stared at Bolton. There was something else behind his usually stoic face and Jon wanted to find out what it was.

The room quieted and Jon realized his father was speaking to him.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“Your thoughts on the treaty?”

Jon had been looking for an opportunity to reveal his true feelings on the matter but looking at his father he knew what he needed to do.

“I’m not fond of the marriage aspect of it. The Princess is … difficult and has a lot against her. But my personal life doesn’t come before the needs of our country and I stand by my father’s decision. If he believes this will protect our people, then I believe it too.”

“Has the princess agreed to this arrangement?” Lord Bolton spoke up.

“She has asked for more time to make her decision,” Ned reported.

“How much time?”

“A month, at most. Even if she takes all that long, we’ll still have plenty of time to import goods and build shelters.”

“And what if she says no? Her country has nothing to gain from this except our assimilation.”

Their voices rose again at the thought of a bent knee. Jon let his eyes wander the room of red-faced lords. He’d said his piece, there was nothing to do but wait.

The sound of a fist connecting with the long wooden table silenced everyone in the room and brought Jon’s attention back.

“We are not assimilating with the south. We keep our freedom and our ways but more importantly we keep our people alive. Without them, the North is nothing. This meeting is adjourned.”

The Northern lords filed out, grumbling about the news. The secretary followed behind, arranging the notes from the meeting turned screaming match.

Ned sat back down, letting out a strong cough as he did.

“They’ll understand once everything is set,” Jon assured his father.

“I know but I doubt I’ll be able to stand their complaining while we wait,” Ned joked but his laughter turned into a cough followed by another.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked as he handed his father the water glass from the table.

“I’ll be fine,” he assured his son, “Just adjusting to the change in air. You know what I always say-”

“Starks never fare well in the South,” they stated together.

Now more than ever, that statement rang true.

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