Chapter Text
13th Day of the 7th Lunar Cycle, Year 127 AC
Vaemond watched his son, Daeron pacing nervously as his wife was laboring. There was nothing they could do at this time but wait. Since the Death of Lady Arra Stark though, Vaemond had firmly refused to permit maesters near his gooddaughter, or any of the women in his household. Daemion’s recounting of what had happened with Lady Stark was too eerie to ever desire or trust the maesters to be true of intentions and act in the correct interests of mother and child, so he had consulted with old midwives and healing specialists for his son’s wife. His first grandchild was coming into this world alive, and their mother would be alive as well if Vaemond had any say in the matter!
“Lord Corlys Velaryon is here,” the steward said.
“What, now?” Daeron sputtered as he lifted his head, the fear and anxiety was obvious over Vaemond’s eldest’s face.
“I’ll deal with him father,” Daemion said as he stood.
“No, stay with your brother,” Vaemond ordered softly as he looked at his sons. “I will manage my brother.”
He was a bit surprised to see his brother coming to his home, as it was on the other side of Driftmark for the express purpose of getting away from Corlys and his family. Walking through his home, he walked down the steps, outside, where he saw his brother being assisted out of a carriage. He raised his brow seeing Corlys so… well, it had been nearly two years since he’d last seen his brother, and then Corlys was a weak, dying man. Naturally his brother would rise again, which was fine, but Vaemond was uninterested. His brother had not ever bothered to do things simply, and Vaemond would not concede to his fool of a brother’s whims, particularly regarding his petition.
“Brother,” Corlys greeted as he walked forward, leaning heavily on his cane.
“Lord Corlys,” he greeted his brother as he stood there watching Corlys struggle to walk again.
“It has been too long,” Corlys smiled as he made his way up the steps.
“Yes, it has, now is not an appropriate time brother,” Vaemond stated.
“Is there something amiss?” Corlys asked.
“No.”
“Then perhaps it is time for us to speak, I have only just now been permitted to leave that accursed sickbed!” Corlys huffed.
“Mmmm, no, this is not a good time,” Vaemond countered firmly. He was surprised when his brother looked wounded at his statement.
“Brother…”
“I believe you should go, I must attend to my family at this time,” Vaemond said firmly.
“We are family.”
“You have not been my brother in some time, I advise you to attend to your own, and I’ll attend to mine,” Vaemond stated.
“Vaemond,” Corlys pleaded. “I wish to speak on the contracts you have made in my absence.”
“Those contracts are not yours, brother, they are made in faith on my House and Name, they are made through my ventures, and trade, and even supported by my ships and crews, you have nothing to do with them and will not be profiting off of them,” he assured firmly. “They are not your contracts to oversee or venture forth into.”
“I… I meant no offense brother, we had always operated our trade as one,” Corlys stammered.
“I must look after my own, as you have decided brother, and thus part from you in business,” Vaemond stated. “I had filed and reformed the necessary documents and had them signed by the Royal Courts.”
“You will need a business partner no doubt,” Corlys smiled slyly.
“I have a business partner, and several investors whom have assisted me, this is not a matter of your concern Corlys, and as I said, brother, it is not a time for you to be here, nor a time to speak on this matter, you must go, now,” Vaemond stated firmly.
“Vaemond, I heard about your petition,” Corlys said softly. “I know about what happened in Court, and I have come to beseech you for us to have peace, brother.”
“Peace!?” Vaemond snarled. “You dare to come here, knowing what I have said and knowing what your gooddaughter would do, and daring to insult me and mine to our faces with those… those… those boys as your heirs!”
“Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey are my blood brother!”
“They are no more yours than Rhaenys was Queen!” he seethed. “You have chosen your path, brother, and I will not watch all we have built collapse into ruin and destitution to appease you and your wounded pride. Was the price of Laena and Laenor not high enough for you?” he demanded.
“Do not speak of them as if they were a cost, they were everything!” Corlys snarled.
“And you insult them, by following the farce Rhaenyra has presented as a truth, when eyes cannot lie brother, but you persist in believing this foolishness!”
“I am trying to do what is best for our House!”
“Yourself and your legacy, while our House must suffer the consequences, I will have no more of it brother, not until you acknowledge the damage and reality your wounded pride is inflicting upon your House. Until that time, we have nothing more to discuss,” Vaemond stated.
“Brother,” Corlys sighed. “We are of House Velaryon, we should be united in the face of a storm.”
Vaemond said nothing more, but rather he walked into his house, shutting the door behind him without inviting Corlys in. Vaemond walked for his sons again, when he heard a scream of a laboring woman, mingled with the loud piercing cry of a baby. Vaemond started running the empty halls, coming around the bend.
“It’s a girl!” Daeron appeared, a wild, wide grin on his face, and Vaemond’s own smile bloomed seeing his son so happy.
“It’s a girl! Hazel and the baby are fine!” he said as he rushed Vaemond.
“That is splendid!” Vaemond chuckled as he was herded to the birthing chambers. He walked in to see his gooddaughter in the pillows of her bed, still looking exhausted, and covered in sweat, her hair was matted, and messy, but she was smiling brightly as she held the bundle in her arms.
“A little girl!” he smiled as he came over to the pair.
The girl had coffee colored skin with a head of thick silver curls, and a face of divine beauty, the Maiden herself would be envious gazing upon this girl. He smiled at his first granddaughter.
“Would you like to hold her, father?” Daeron asked.
“I believe for now she should stay with her mother, son, but I would like to hold her very much in time,” he said as he looked at young Hazel who sagged in her pillows in obvious relief. “She is an unbelievably beautiful girl; let us let Hazel be attended to. Daeron, stay with Hazel, Daemion, we have business to address, we will visit in a few hours,” he assured.
He smiled as he walked out of the room and looked at his son who was grinning.
“What business do we have, father?”
“Lord Beesbury has written about the arrangements of the wedding between Prince Aemond and Lady Sansa, it appears Prince Aemond does not have any friends, and is not inclined to make appointments to his inner circle, given you and he are… friends, to assist in managing the stresses of this affair, Lord Beesbury is hopeful to appoint some young Southron men to Prince Aemond’s inner circle, given he is unusually… solitary by princely standards, and he has only openly been friendly with Northerners,” Vaemond explained.
“Aemond is an uniquely strong-willed young man,” Daemion said calmly. Vaemond smirked in agreement, Aemond’s will, and fortitude were becoming something of a delightful surprise to the Court and Realm. Everyone had thought the boy a halfwit or addled of mind but now that Aemond had revealed what he hid, everyone was startled and yet, his icy façade continued with a severity which kept everyone at bay still. But everyone saw him now. Vaemond was surprised at how Aemond was building his reputation, rather unwittingly, whether he was aware of it or not. Aemond did not seem overly concerned with what others thought of him, or he fancied himself invisible still, but regardless, Aemond was something of an interesting topic as of late.
“And in need of allies, who are not solely of his soon to be goodbrother’s Realm,” Vaemond pointed out seriously.
“And who else is Lord Beesbury requesting to be Aemond’s lords?” Daemion asked in amusement.
“A few lords, all of various Houses, Aemond has not responded to these, so, it is in hopes of your existing friendship, you might… assist the young Prince in managing his duties,” Vaemond chuckled.
“Aemond’s going to feed someone to Vhagar soon if they don’t leave him alone,” Daemion chuckled. “He was never particularly friendly and never received attention well, no doubt it is making him uneasy. But… he is calm, and I do find his company entertaining, besides, I am in need of seeking out my own wife and way, so perhaps this is a good opportunity to be had.”
“Thank you,” Vaemond chuckled. Daemion had been thriving this past year with his well negotiated stake in the North, as well as venturing out on his own to negotiate other business deals and captain his own ship, similar to Daeron’s own ventures, but it would still do Daemion great good to assist Aemond in King’s Landing. “Lady Stark has officially obtained her Ladies in Waiting, not permitting Southron ties in her ranks, it will be important we maintain a connection with Aemond.”
“I know,” Daemion smiled. “I will attempt to introduce him to some of my friends in Court, and perhaps assist him in building a council he can trust, we know he will be intermingling with Lord Stark’s men and council, so I will pick men who are of the fortitude and understanding that the North is important to Aemond.”
“They do not have to be of the Great Houses, son,” Vaemond pointed out.
“Perhaps, perhaps not, I will attempt to do this in a Northern manner and not offend Aemond.”
“That is all we ask,” Vaemond chuckled. The wedding would be a true display of Aemond and his capabilities. A Prince who obtained an entire Realm on a marriage match, no one in history had obtained such a dowry, and in turn nothing of monetary value to the Realm was given as a Bride’s Price, it was almost… romantic, for everything about the match had value, but none of it monetary. The Realm would not gain from nor suffer from the addition of the New Gift, the Realm did not gain nor suffer under the Night’s Watch abolishing of accepting murderers and rapists, and yet, the Realm did gain everything with the North being the dowry. It was impressive. No one woman was ever worth the price of an entire Realm’s fealty. Their match was already a legend, and it had barely even begun.
Lady Sansa Stark, the Red Wolf of the North, it was said her hair turned red after falling in love with Prince Aemond Targaryen, that she’d been kissed by fire and the love had seared her very appearance. The Realm loved a good love story, so they said the Prince was kissed by ice, and thus his silvery hair was white, despite his Targaryen appearance, it was said the Red Wolf left her mark upon the Dragon Prince. (Vaemond knew Aemond wore a braid now with ribbons from Lady Sansa at the end, the token was probably the only outward mark Lady Sansa left upon Aemond.)
All fanciful romanticizing by the smallfolk, but nonetheless, it had started gaining validity and traction. A Prince kissed by Ice, his Lady love kissed by Fire, the romance had all but written itself. Vaemond had had extraordinarily little to promote, though he had commissioned a few bards to write of the love, and spread the tale, privately of course. Good publicity spoke for itself, especially as the tales fluttered down from the North about Lady Arra Stark’s death and how Aemond had protected and comforted the aggrieved Starks in their time of need. Of course he and Daemion had assisted in spreading the word about how Aemond had broken down the door to the birthing chamber to try to save Lady Arra, and when that failed, how he protected Lord Stark’s only son, and sisters.
There was a separate ballad Vaemond had commissioned, again, in secret, for the love and loss of Lord Stark and his late wife, Lady Arra, the Wolf and Huntress was an epic ballad. It was full of their love, and history that Vaemond could find out and it had built up on its own until the end which ended in the death of Lady Arra at the hand of the Maester, and Lord Stark tearing the head of the maester off his body. The tragic ballad was surprisingly popular with the smallfolk and the romance was growing, as the Realm was grieving with Lord Stark for his late wife.
The results of Vaemond’s initial secret publicity attempts though had been surprising. People were absolutely falling out of favor with Rhaenyra and Aegon as a whole, but also, they were seeing Aemond. It was a surprising twist of events, because Vaemond had initially thought that it would be more difficult to get people to notice Aemond as anything other than the forgotten second son of a Foolish King. The people though were noticing Aemond. Vaemond wondered how well though and wanted to have Daemion venture to King’s Landing to evaluate the waters in a manner of speaking. They would need powerful allies if they even wanted to back Aemond, it would be a time to gauge how Aemond was received by the Noble Houses as a whole.
“He is not going to like this,” Daemion chuckled.
“He does what is best for the Realm though, so he will have to learn to adapt,” Vaemond predicted. Aemond probably would adapt to it, especially with a wife like Lady Sansa and Lord Stark as a goodbrother.
21st Day of the 12th Lunar Cycle, Year 127 AC
The year 127 AC was eventful. Particularly since the announcement of the Targaryen Prince, Prince Aemond, him, his… his wedding, he wanted to tear his hair out. Aemond had predicted that his match to Sansa would be received… but not to this degree. Bloody fucking hell, one would think the heir was getting married! And worse, Aemond was certain someone was pulling strings behind his back to make it so, he didn’t know who, but on more than one occasion when he had to endure time with the King, the King said how delighted he was for Rhaenyra’s wedding. Aemond had repeatedly corrected his father about who was getting married, but his statements fell on deaf ears, much to his annoyance.
It was one thing to plan a Royal Wedding, it was an entirely different matter to plan a Wedding for the Heir, and it vexed Aemond that despite all his bloody objections, this wedding was getting ridiculously out of hand!
One could never say Aemond didn’t try to course correct this matter, but the fucking idiot King wouldn’t butt out of affairs he’d had nothing to do with in the seventeen years Aemond had lived! Fucking hells! Aemond had never actively wanted his father to drop dead, but he did now, he would even arrange the meeting with the gods if needed because gods help him, this wedding was too much.
The first problems cropped up when his wedding was announced, his match to Lady Sansa Stark, it was now that Aemond was under scrutiny he’d never been under before. He’d had work to do, and all of a sudden young Lords, who had never paid Aemond any mind wanted to take Aemond hunting, or sparring, or discuss philosophy, history, or other nonsense Aemond had once desperately wanted to be a part of but now did not want to join. It unnerved him how many people now wanted his attention, or his time, and it made him want to disappear. The other half of the problem with the Lords now wanting his time and attention were the Ladies who also wanted his time and attentions. Particularly his sweet cousin Bethany Hightower who had come to King’s Landing to be Helaena’s lady in waiting, and same with Lady Cassandra Baratheon, and Ladies Cerelle, Tyshara, and Myranda, as well as a few other women of lesser Noble Houses.
Aemond did not know if people were willfully determined to be a nuisance to him, and attempting to sabotage his match, but it vexed him having so many ladies in waiting now around, and worse, vying for his attention. He was getting married! Had they no shame!?
The second problem for Aemond came in the form of ending his relations with Gwyn Snow, which was not a massive problem. Until he was all but forbidden from training, riding, sparring, and anything that might get him killed. Aemond didn’t like being inactive on principle, but to be forbidden explicitly from everything he genuinely enjoyed, it pissed him off and he didn’t like having pent up energy. Given his agreement to marry, he had no intentions of breaking his word of fidelity to Sansa, but godsdamnit he had energy to burn and tensions mounting and he was ready to tear apart the Red Keep to escape. He wanted to do something, anything, he hated having everyone try to contain him, and it pissed him off knowing he had this much attention on him. No one had ever given a single fuck what he was doing so long as he was exactly where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there, and they were now fucking with his personal time! Something of which he had little of and liked to spend doing something to get his pent-up frustrations out of his system.
He would make it to the twelfth lunar cycle of the year before he finally lost his temper in full and escaped on Vhagar’s back.
The third problem came in the form of Lucerys Velaryon. Aemond had to remind himself he was not permitted to kill the whelp because it would cause a civil war! But Holy Shit! Did He Ever Want To! It didn’t help Lord Corlys Velaryon had awoken from his wounds and Lucerys was in the Red Keep rather than at Driftmark learning how to be Lord of the Tides, fucking bastard was making Aemond’s life miserable.
It had started when his uncle, sister and their brood of brats had returned from the North. Lucerys had plenty of minor comments, which while as a whole were not damaging, were vexing, primarily to Aemond. The little brat had then proceeded to spread a wild rumor through the Red Keep that Aemond had fucked Lady Sansa and they were being wed for that, which provoked Lady Cassandra and cousin Bethany to be more… promiscuous, towards Aemond. Then the little shit had proceeded to rub it in Aemond’s face he got to train and Aemond didn’t, which was irritating, but primarily, any time Aemond even set foot near the training grounds, Lucerys would make a comment on Aemond’s delicate constitution and how he shouldn’t be training. That would usually have all of the Kingsguard escorting Aemond away from training. Then the little shit would torment Aemond all through the insufferable family dinners he had to attend with Rhaenyra’s brats. Every crude joke, form of mockery, and torment which could be dealt would be dealt, including Lucerys having pig and boar served every. Single. Night. Because that was his favorite dish and the King wanted Rhaenyra’s brats happy.
The biggest and most humiliating moment for Aemond though came in Court. Other Houses had taken to presenting Aemond with early Wedding Gifts for his new House, and new Bride, and during this presentation, Lucerys had thought it amusing to present Aemond with swine, before the Courts, claiming it would be a dreadful atrocity not to have something to keep his new House fed.
The only reason Aemond did not lunge at the brat and kill him was because that was the moment Lord Velaryon and his House arrived. Aemond was so startled at how the Velaryons swept into Court he had forgotten to thank Lucerys for his thoughtless and insulting gift. Princesses Baela and Rhaena had presented Aemond with a few gifts, and Lord Corlys had even presented him with a gift for his bride, which surprised Aemond greatly, though he didn’t react.
The arrival of the Velaryons though put an end to most of Lucerys’ antics, it appeared Lord Corlys was taking control of Aemond’s nephew.
The fourth problem for Aemond came in the form of Aegon and controlling his brother, who was being particularly difficult to manage, it was enough to have Aemond wanting to just feed Aegon to Sunfyre and be done with it. His brother was being particularly insufferable as of late, and Aemond was exhausted by it.
With all of the wedding plans, and inquiries, as well as the unexpected demand Aemond found his own House in the New Gift, he did not have time to even examine or investigate the records like he had wanted to.
His uncle’s clause in that bloody contract to found a new cadet branch House of both House Targaryen and House Stark was unexpected, and while Aemond had initially overlooked that clause he was hit in full force of what that entailed. The North was swift to have a Keep surveyed, near a volcano and located near other well-known hot springs, in the mountains and heavy forests, they had a massive weirwood untouched which Aemond had agreed to for the location of the Keep. And then the plans had poured in. Aemond was surprised at how swiftly Starks arranged designs of the Keep for him, and worse, he knew what they were after. A fortress, they were going to make the Targaryens well and truly pay for this. Not that Aemond minded, but he was surprised at the sophistication of the plans.
These were plans they claimed were of the origins of Brandon the Builder, there were parts of the plans redacted, or not shared in fear of the South obtaining and abusing the designs, but Aemond mostly agreed with the designs. From the massive Glass Garden, they wanted to construct, to constructing the fortress around the Godswood. The Keep would be made of the white stones of the mountains, and steel, while also having that Southron element, which Aemond had sent them some basic concept plans of the Red Keep that he knew of for inspiration. When the castle was finished it was predicted by the North to be bigger than the Red Keep, and would be about the size of Winterfell, possibly bigger, depending on how they built around the mountainous terrain and the Godswood. Aemond would have been happy living in a shack at this point, so long as he got the hell out of Court! Gods be merciful, he just wanted some bloody peace!
The plans for the castle, which did not yet have a name at this moment, was for it to be a fortress, and castle, and home. The Starks had modeled it off of Winterfell but had been open to his suggestions for some Targaryen elements. The plans had been agreed upon, it was predicted, even with Northern ingenuity it would take about five to ten years to build, though the primary living areas would be completed by year 129 AC provided the weather held true. Aemond was curious how it would be built, but he also was too busy to focus on those plans. Instead, he and Sansa had come to a compromise where she would manage setting up their residence and home, and he would attempt to keep the Realm in check and manage their wedding.
Aemond also had to found a House, which was a daunting prospect, though he had consulted Sansa for ideas.
Ultimately though he had presented two acceptable surnames with the compromise that their seal would have Vhagar’s silhouette in exchange for these names. One was Frostfyre, which despite being a Northern flower, it was the name of her wolf, and did represent the joining of their Houses in that unique balance. The bonus of the flower being Northern and thus and easy color to select; red. The other name he had proposed was Zokla, which was wolf in High Valyrian, and in true, Northern fashion, it was simple, short, and to the point, it would honor Sansa’s Stark heritage and his Valyrian heritage, while their emblem would again have Vhagar’s silhouette, but also a red wolf.
The colors of the emblem had long since been agreed upon with blue, red, white, silver and bronze, and obviously she had agreed to Vhagar’s silhouette as a part of their emblem. Aemond was appreciative of her willingness to use Vhagar in their emblem, so he was attempting to make a conscious effort to found the House in a more Stark manner. Also, the Starks were obviously doing something right if they had a dynasty that was millenniums old, while House Targaryen was barely a century old.
With them agreeing to that, Aemond moved forward with an uncertain name possibility which Sansa would be presenting to the North for approval.
And he was genuinely surprised when, with Lord Corlys Velaryon came Daemion Velaryon. True, Aemond had spent time with Daemion in the North, and found the man not intolerable, and rather intelligent, he was uncertain what to expect from the Velaryons as a whole, so he was wary about the man skulking about. Particularly around him, though, Daemion was not as loud, boisterous or demanding as some of the other lords who had come to Court. Why couldn’t people leave him alone?
Which was where Aemond was today as he looked over the old ledgers he had copied from the North, remaining in the library this day. Daemion Velaryon was there, reading over his own contracts and reports, and neither had spoken to the other, though Daemion seemed to be running interference for Aemond, which made Aemond wary. However, he was reading over the ledgers from Lord Beesbury, and focusing on the North’s mismanaged records instead at this moment, so he gave little thought to what Daemion Velaryon was doing.
The records were not just mismanaged, there was embezzling happening, which he had confirmed with Lord Beesbury when he had looked over the records, but the money simply vanished. Aemond was starting to think he would need to go to the Citadel to figure out if the Maesters were the root cause, and if they were, what was he to do. Yes, the Maesters were the agents for tax collecting and recording the records for the Realm, but he wondered if they were not as neutral as the Realm had believed. But if the money was not going to the Maesters, where was it going? How many Realms were afflicted with this problem? Aemond had found that the sums being moved while great, were not great enough to stir notice, and it was unsettling the casualness to which it was all being moved. The North’s records indicated that this had been happening during the reign of King Jaehaerys at the very least.
“Whatever it is, my prince, it will have to wait until the morrow,” Daemion spoke, and Aemond tore his gaze up from what he was reading to look at the Velaryon.
“Hm?” He looked around the library.
“You’ve been summoned,” Daemion stated. Aemond frowned as he looked up at the other man.
“What?”
“The King wishes to speak with you,” Daemion sighed. “Ser Cargyll came to collect you.”
Aemond now noticed one of the twins and rubbed his temple as he closed his eye. Fuck. What the fuck did Viserys want now!? Closing out his work, he collected his notes and put them away as he put them in his satchel he’d been carrying before getting up and walking out with Cargyll.
4th Day of the 1st Lunar Cycle, Year 128 AC
There was a desolate forest, the winds blew around her as she stood in a field of ice, the red strands of hair were pulled on the winds. The songs were bright, and pure with a small eerie sound, it felt like there was a yearning in her heart. Stepping over the ice, she shivered as she walked through the forest, a caw of a three eye raven drew her eye, as she walked, there were a fluttering of some black feathers.
Slowly she walked through the forest, winding her way through the limbs and trees, then she stopped at a massive weirwood, the largest she had ever seen as the face turned to her.
It wasn’t a weirwood though… there was a boy in the tree with a crown of ice atop his curly head, pale silvery-lilac eyes bright as a sharp smile pulled on his lips, Ice was set before him, a swirl of mist as a pack of wolves started howling as there was a rumble as a massive shadow shifted through the mist.
Her eyes widened as the eyes of the shadow opened.
It was the sight of the weirwood’s eyes opening with the Night King’s blue eyes. She screamed for the boy to get down, get away, the Night King stepped out of the weirwood as the boy turned from where he sat to look at the Night King. It was when the Night King raised his sword that she ran forward, screaming, the boy turned with a wolfish smile on his lips.
Gasping, she bolted upright in bed, hugging Frostfyre as her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. Releasing a shuddering breathe she slowly fell back into the pillows. Groaning, she rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes, as she looked around her room. Frostfyre nudged her arm, and Sansa smiled as she scratched the soft, velvety ear. Getting up, she slipped from her bed, grabbing a robe as she moved her hair loose from the tangled mess from around her shoulder.
The dream had been getting more intense lately, she dragged her fingers through her hair as she looked out the window of her room, she rubbed her hand over her chest as she closed her eyes. Sansa took a few controlled deep breaths as she counted them. When her heart was no longer hammering painfully in her ribs, she looked out the window again.
Dreams were never clear for her, but lately they had been most strange, particularly when she dreamt she was Frostfyre running through the Godswood, or a small bird fluttering about. Those dreams felt so livid and real, she couldn’t seem to pull them apart, uncertain what was dream and real.
However, the dreams with the boy… those were different.
The boy never looked the same, though he had a crown of ice atop his head and his eyes were a pale silvery lilac, everything else about the boy changed. Sometimes he had dark auburn hair which looked like a flame, other times he had black hair and wild curls, and sometimes he appeared to be carved of ice itself. She didn’t understand it.
There was a knock on her door, and she turned to see Elissa there.
“Morning,” Sansa smiled at her good sister. Since the announcement of her marriage to Prince Aemond was known in the Realm, Sansa had been beseeched by women to be her Ladies in Waiting; Houses from all of Westeros had sent her petitions and offers with their daughters to be her ladies in waiting. Not that Sansa had dared to take any of those offers. She wasn’t foolish enough to welcome a snake into her home.
The North was where Sansa looked for her Ladies, not to be mistaken with Ladies in Waiting, it was similar to a position in the North, it was akin to Ladies in Waiting but with an added requirement which made the women not Ladies in Waiting. Sansa had naturally selected her Ladies with care, selecting both of Lord Norrey’s daughters, and her good sisters, Elissa and Orrina, Bryan’s sister Mira, Lord Reed’s daughter Torrha, and Domeron’s cousin, Gwyn. They had made up Sansa’s ladies, she had selected them for a myriad of reasons, but primarily, she found their company pleasant and not overwhelming. None of them reminded her of Margaery Tyrell or Myrcella Baratheon, and she wasn’t Shae, Sansa had purposely picked Northern women with no influence of the South, she wanted to make a point when she went South with them.
Sara had also been given Ladies, now that she was a Stark, she was expected to have these Ladies. Lord Mormont’s daughter, Taria, Lord Umber’s daughter, Arrana, and Lord Glover’s niece, Gilliane. Those three ladies were a handful and kept up with Sara’s antics as a wildling essentially, though they would come to heel when called upon.
None of these girls had any Southron influence, and Sansa intended to keep it that way, they were Northerners and would present themselves as such. Maester Garrett had hated Lady Arra for being a Northern Lady, so the North would not cow to Southron ideals, instead, Sansa had purposely selected her Ladies to be the most Northern and from the most powerful Northern Families.
Lord Manderly had graciously understood, and expressed hopes that in the future the House Manderly might have better standing in the North, they were discreetly sending the septons, septas, and maesters back having wanted to gain Cregan’s favor. Not that they had lost Cregan’s favor, but the North’s immediate disdain for all things regarding the Faith and maesters for the death of Lady Arra had left the Manderlys wanting to assimilate to the North rather than keep their Southron traditions. Which surprised Sansa, if she was honest, because she never truly understood the Manderlys they had never changed their name, despite their history and few survivors, and essentially being a cadet branch of the original House Manderly after fleeing the Reach and many dying out along the way; including the first born heirs and leaders of the House Manderly. No, they had never strove for their independence from their histories or rebranding of their House; which would have been expected given they were in exile and on the run, and dying out. Instead, they had remained House Manderly, and it was rather like the many Flints of the North, all of whom were known cousins and family with the other, but still Flints. House Manderly had not rebranded itself like House Karstark had, or the extinct House Greystark, those two cadet branches of House Stark had honored their roots while also rebranding themselves as their own branch. The Manderlys had not, though she was uncertain if that would change.
That also brough Sansa to another problem, one which she and Aemond had both confessed in their letters they had not actually anticipated, founding a new house, a cadet branch of House Targaryen and House Stark, and it was… unnerving. Founding a new House, founding a Noble new House, it was terrifying if she was honest. Cadet Houses had all the histories and honors of their founding Houses but also had to strike their own paths; House Karstark and House Greystark were both successful cadet branches. Until House Greystark turned on House Stark and were eliminated. House Blackfyre was the most famous Targaryen cadet branches, and they had… caused numerous rebellions, attempted to steal the Iron Throne, and founded the Golden Company; it wasn’t a good look.
Gods, it was terrifying just contemplating how to form a new House, Aemond was just as stressed about it as she was, and possibly even more so, though she couldn’t tell in his letters. The names they had thus far for the House were… Frostfyre (yes, Aemond had slipped that one in as an option given not only her wolf’s name, but the fact it was a combination of ice and fire and only if she agreed to use Vhagar as their emblem) or Zokla (which meant wolf in Valyrian, but it would mean that a dragon, again, would be their emblem as fair exchange). They were uncertain of which was better, but she had agreed to a green, and bronze single silhouette of a dragon, if their House name was to be Stark related.
“You’re looking rather unwell,” Elissa stated.
“Just… thinking,” she breathed as she rubbed her hand over her chest.
“About them dreams you insist you aren’t having?” Elissa chuckled. “Don’t deny it, Lady Sansa, you’ve got the sight, and more…”
“I don’t, I’m just, anxious about the wedding. I have to respond to Aemond’s letter inquiring about House names, and the final draft plans on our keep are being sent to him for approval, and there’s the Dornish trade, which also has the glass production rising, I have to discuss with some of the other Lords the transport of the glass and construction of the Glass Gardens, and…”
“Sansa, breathe!” Elissa chuckled. “We only have to worry about one thing at a time, not all of it at once,” she promised. “Come on, you need a bath, then we’ll work on your dress which will help sooth you,” Elissa predicted. “Your brother wishes to discuss the names Aemond has presented for your House as the Winter Council is here now.”
“I don’t like going South, nothing good ever comes of a Stark going South,” she muttered.
“You’ll be married, and that, is typically viewed as good,” Elissa pointed out.
Sansa didn’t disagree as she bit her lip and worried about it between her teeth. It had been over a year since she had agreed to the marriage contract with Aemond, and it worried her as the time to depart grew nearer, she didn’t like going South. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.
Then again, she’d been married twice and both times had been dismal affairs.