Rhaegar heard the screams of the crowd as his tip of Arthur's lance hit him full force, his skull ringing and filling his ears with unwanted sounds. He was glad that the maids had not mentioned breakfast, for nausea was making its way from his stomach to his throat. The tip of Rhaegar's lance had thrown Arthur from his own horse, pushing the crowd to chant for the Prince loudly. Rhaegar let go of his horse, allowing the steed to make its own victory lap for he was too busy ridding himself of his helm. His squire, a boy from house Sunglass, took Rhaegar's helm and the leather ropes of the horse.

"Well ridden my Prince," Lord Whent announced as he waddled over to Rhaegar. In his hands, the crown for his Queen of Love and Beauty. Rhaegar almost feared touching it, it seemed too beautiful to simply give to someone. The crown was a twisted wreath of black burnt vines, winter roses, so blue it would put the sky to shame, and sprinkles of jewels. He took the crown in his hands, thanking Lord Whent as he did so, took the ropes back from his squire and led his horse to the stand where his wife sat. He looked around, he had put too much thought into it that he considered throwing the damn thing into the air and crowning the ghosts of Harrenhal if need be.

But, he was married, and he was obliged to hand it to his off. So why weren't his hands nor mind willing him to give it to his wife? He neared the stand, his eyes flew to Lyanna Stark. She was sat between her brothers and wore the colours of the North, grey, and grey. Arianne sat beside her eldest brother, Brandon, she wore a green dress accompanied by a red necklace, one she seemed fond of recently. And his wife, sat behind them, next to his mother and father, stone face. Elia crossed her arms over her chest, daring Rhaegar to give the crown away. Any choice he would make would be the wrong choice.

Though he did not want to know it, he knew exactly who he was crowning. Rhaegar cleared his throat, pulled his sword from his side, placed the crown that the tip of it, leaned forward and gently lay it on her lap. It felt as if a giant had held his breath inside the stands for what came next couldn't even prepare Rhaegar.

...

Brandon, who was sure that Ser Arthur Dayne threw himself from his horse, clapped along with the crowd as the Prince removed his helm and took a victory lap around the pit. He had been bested by Ser Barristan, and Ser Barristan by Ser Arthur. Brandon doubted that Rhaegar's experience, when compared to Ser Arthur, could match up. That and he refused to allow himself to believe that the Prince to be as deceitful as he had been.

"Looking for something?" Brandon spun around, at the door stood Lysa Tully, arms crossed over her chest.

"Lysa?" Brandon frowned looking at the girl who was soon to be his good sister.

"My Lord," Lysa responded, smiling to the older boy as she made her way into the room. "Your sister seems ready to leave." She said pointing to the packed trunks.

Brandon nodded his head, his lips turning into a thin line. "What are you doing here?"

Lysa smirked nearing Brandon, who was stood in front of the dainty mirror. "Celebrating Meredith's name day."

"Merida." He corrected, trying to move away from her.

"What?" Lysa frowned, pulling him down to sit on the plush seat.

"Her name." He was in the worst possible situation. "It's Merida." The door was left ajar, and at moments notice anyone would walk in on them and suspect the worst. At least whore's didn't have names to them, but a noblewoman. His betrothed's sister of all of them.

"Someone was in here before. A girl looked to be a maid of some sort. She wore a tattered dress. Maybe she has what you're looking for?" Lysa said, rubbing his shoulders as she did so.

"I'm not here for anything specific," Brandon responded, moving her hands from his shoulders and standing from the seat.

"Oh. Is that so?"

"Aye, it is."

"So this wouldn't be of value to you?" Lysa asked as she pulled a small scroll from under her sleeve.

Brandon refrained from glaring at the unpleasant girl, not wanting to make her any more annoying than she already was. "You opened the seal?"

"Freshly pressed, had to bribe that damned maester to even let me near the scrolls. Back to the subject at hand." Lysa responded. She cleared her throat and read;

"My dearest papa - how sweet - I write to you to tell you how excited I am to see you. I am afraid that my letter will have come in last, after the King's that he is willing to gain your consent for my visit to Kingslanding. Tell Lilia all about it, I am afraid I have not mastered the skill nor favour of the Maester's to send too many ravens in one go. I cannot begin to tell you how well Lyanna and Robert have gotten on. They are almost unable to be separated from one another. I also hope you are proud of me, for I am proud of myself. An invite from the King himself.

Love always,

Your daughter; Arianne Sand."

"Give the letter to the maester, what use is it to me?" Brandon growled, storming out of the chambers as quickly as he could.

"Brandon," the stale voice of Ned brought Brandon back to reality. "You might get crowned, ears up lad."

"Shut it," Brandon hissed glaring at his brother. He watched as the man he had come to despise, Rhaegar Targaryen, mounted proudly atop his horse, turned back to their stand. He wore the armour of silver and red jewels, and dragon decorated at the front of the breastplate; his hair was matted from his helm and sweat that had accumulated during the joust. The crowd grew silent as he neared the stand, excited to watch their Prince crown their Princess.

Brandon did not see why the crown even existed; its job merely to make the shallow women of Westeros even more shallow. Brandon rolled his eyes as Rhaegar too his sword from his side and placed the crown on it. He felt Arianne, beside him, tense slightly; and saw her hands which were gently placed on her lap ball into fists. Brandon looked from Rhaegar to Arianne; sure he had heard rumours. Rumours though were merely rumours. Rhaegar looked past them, much to Brandon's assurance, and at his wife, but then he looked down. It was almost as if someone, something had pulled his arms and forced him to stand; for when he did Rhaegar placed the crown lightly on Arianne's lap, smiling down at her as he did so.

"For my Lady Arianne," Rhaegar said nodding to Arianne and mentioning for her to put it on. She did as he asked, though her face was hard as stone.

"Thank you, your grace," Arianne whispered.

Brandon, who was now stood up, grabbed the sword tightly, so tightly that he felt what he knew was his blood trickle down his sleeve. He pushed the sword back and Rhaegar having noticed the blood on his hands quickly drew it back.

There was no sound made, apart from the timely throat being cleared or the water hitting the grass, so when the sound Arianne sat, looking to the ground as if an omen were just placed on her head. Brandon took her by her arms, hard enough to give those watching a reason to whisper, and pushed her to walk off the stands. "To your room." He whispered, assuming she had heard him he let go of her arm and she made her way down the steps.

Brandon turned back around to Rhaegar; he opened his mouth to speak only to be stopped by Lyanna who had stood from her seat and gave her brother a look of warning. "That is the Prince you have just defied."

"That is our sister he has just humiliated," Brandon whispered.

"A dragon against a wolf. I know who I would place my bet on," Lyanna whispered back raising a brow as she did so.

"Let's hope it's your family," Brandon growled, leaving the stands with one last glare to the Prince.

...

Arianne walked as quickly as her feet would take her back to the castle grounds, not wanting to be caught up by those who were still in the pit and questioned too many questions to count. She should have been happy, ecstatic, over the moon even of receiving such a gift from the Prince; but she could not be. The small voice, the reasonable one, the one that showed up such little times during her stay in Harrenhal, urged her to throw the crown to the ground, tear it to pieces and give the jewels to a farmers family. Though another part of her, the part that tended to win in decision making, told her to scream with happiness for she had won the two Prince's favours.

As she contemplated how exactly to react to the crown, Arianne saw something starkling white and red flash past her. She turned around and there in the midst of a few willow trees, and a small pond sat a weirwood tree. The very one she had been searching for during her entire stay at Harrenhal. Her promise to her father would be solidated now, that much she knew of. Arianne looked to the lake where an influx of royalty was making their way to the castle, looked left and right and quickly made her way to the tree. It was secluded, allowing the privacy she desired.

Lifting her skirt to allow her the comfort of getting on her knees in front of the tree, Arianne clasped her hands together and began to whisper silently to herself.

"Praying won't help you now girly." Someone whispered beside her. Arianne let out a yelp, only to have her mouth covered. Mud, ale and blood, the distinct smell of a peasant. Arianne pushed the hand from her mouth and turned to see her attacker. A small woman with dark eyes, matted unwashed hair and powder white skin smiled back at her.

"What do you want?" Arianne asked, her voice shaking as she did so.

"You have nothing to fear from me," the woman jeered laughing as she spoke. "Want to hear your fortune told mildly?"

Arianne shook her head, standing up. "No thank you."

"I can answer any questions you desire, any. I can tell you that your letters are not reaching home."

Arianne frowned at the woman. "How do you know of my letters? Have you spies!?"

The woman cackled, rolling her eyes. "I don't need spies. I have my own eyes. I am Maggy the Frog of Lannisport. Cersei fucking Lannister dragged me here so I would make sure that the Prince fell in love with her. Stupid bitch."

Arianne's eyes widened, and she backed away from the woman. "If her lady Lannister were to hear you speak like that, she would...she would...-"

"Heard the stories have you? Well, I've seen your stories, so do you want 'em or not?"

Despite her yearning to do as she was told and return to her room, Arianne nodded her head. "They will be true?"

"You'll find out soon enough." Maggy smiled and mentioned for Arianne to sit on the grass once more, pulled her hand from her side and pricked it with a knife. Arianne grunted with displeasure as she brought the bleeding finger to her lips. Arianne looked at the woman in disgust, and she sucked on her fingertip, her eyes closed and brows furrowed, she let go of her finger and wiped her lips with her own. When she opened her eyes, Arianne almost jumped in fright. Her once brown eyes were absorbed by her pupils, the only sight visible was black.

When she spoke, her voice sent a shudder down Arianne's back. "Arianne Sand of House Stark, your heart desires every man it meets, and your body entwines them in a longing lust. Three crowns you will be crowned, all of which will fall from your head in rejection. Your time as a wolf is coming to an end, the time of your reminders of home is coming to an end, by the time you are married you will have a son, by the time you are married you will have a daughter, your sister will bring to your doorstep the greatest burden of life, your brother will be slain by a brother, your father will be slain by a father and your sister will be slain by the grasp of a brother. A tragic beginning to life you had, though it does not now, will haunt you when you arrive at the pit of snakes. Red jewels in clear water. Keep your eyes peeled for it is your own that seek to hurt you.." And with a wink, she stood up and left Arianne in a riddle of words.

...

The day had turned cold, spring refusing to show face particularly and in turn causing the castle to turn into a ball of wind and chill. The wind hitting Arianne's dress, her sweaty hands clamped over the fabric tightly as specks of dirt clung onto the ends of it. Oh, how Lilia would hate me for dragging this masterpiece on such a floor. When she returned to her room, confused more than she was scared, she noticed her trunks had been taking from underneath the bed and placed neatly in a corner by the door. The jewellery she had spent hours arranging by colour and piece was gone from the vanity, leaving it empty and bare as it had been when she arrived. Taking off the blue wreath she placed it gently on her bed, where a piece of parchment lay aimlessly. She picked the scrolled parchment, unravelled it and let out a sigh. Someone had opened it. The seal had been torn instead of melted off. Either they were stupid or had no intention of sending this back. Pursuing her lips, she tucked the scroll underneath her sleeve.

Behind her came a rustle, the door was pushed shut. "Before you told your brothers and sister you were leaving our party." Brandon. Her eldest brother, the very one who had wiped his bloodstained hands on her dress and pushed her from embarrassment to more embarrassment. Something she was sure the crowd would take home with them, the bastard of Winterfell thrown from the jousting stands by her raging brother.

Arianne shuffled over to him, her hands placed behind her back. "Brandon I'm-"

Before she could respond to him, however, he retorted back at her. "I assumed you would be back before everyone else, and yet here you are arriving later than us all."

"I found a weriwood tree and stopped to pray and last time I checked you weren't my father," Arianne responded.

"Aye I'm not, but I am your older brother." Brandon reminded her, angered that she would speak to him so.

"And older brother who drunkenly-"

"You are to go to Riverrun with us tomorrow." Again he cut her off, though this time it wasn't anger that made him do it, but shame.

"My travels are a royal order, Brandon." Arianne reminded him. "You may be my older brother, but you are in no position to overrule that."

"You are so quick to leave your family?" She did not respond, he was right, but this was her decision to make and not his. "Arianne." Even those pleading eyes could not stop her.

"Brandon let me make this decision for myself. I think I may be-"

"Say you are in love and I will purge this entire castle," Brandon said glaring at her, his hand, which was covered with a white cloth, gripped his sword.

"Not love no," Arianne stuttered. "Just."

"Then what is it?" Brandon asked.

"I am to marry him, Brandon. It's what the King wants." Arianne replied shrugging.

"Which one are you to marry?" Brandon scoffed.

"Rhaegar. I am to marry Rhaegar."

"You would willingly marry into that family?"

Arianne nodded her head. "They have told papa, and he has agreed."

"He has not mentioned it to me in any of the letters he has sent." Brandon chimed.

His statement was followed by a short silence. "He hasn't been getting my letters it seems. Look." She pulled out the letter she had found on her bed.

"I know. How do you think I knew you were leaving? It's not like you told us."

Arianne glared at him, balled her fists and hit him as hard as she could on the chest. A pinch to him it seemed as he did not react. "You've been stopping my letters!?"

"Lysa Tully came waddling in here yesterday and read it out loud."

She frowned. Yesterday? "Why were you in my room? Is that why you weren't at the joust? Why wasn't the letter there yesterday?"

"I had a hunch you were hiding something, and you were." Brandon snapped back. "And maybe our maid might have picked it up-"

Arianne shook her head. "No. Oliva wouldn't keep anything from me."

"Clearly."

Why would Lysa care about my letters?

"She begged the maester's to give it to her. And she mentioned a maid to have been seen walking into your room?" Brandon said, noticing the confused look etched on her face.

"That was probably Oliva. She mentioned to me this morning that she had come in here to clean up." Brandon shrugged back at her. "No," Arianne said, shaking her head as she paced the room. "Lysa Tully, from those god awful tea parties that the Queen has been hosting is a jealous little wench who would drink to my demise."

"Your demise. Who has taught you to think this way." Brandon questioned.

"Yes, my demise. You should see the way she whispers and glares at me, Brandon. As if I have wronged her personally."

"Maybe you have?"

"I know I haven't. She just has the mindset of a child."

The door pushed open, revealing Oliva, holding a tray with a mug and plate of stew on the side sat a lemon cake. "My apologies, Lord Stark." The younger girl put the tray down on the bed.

She pointed to the tray and looked at Arianne, who in turn shook her head. "Also, I'm here because the King requests your presence in the dining hall. Merida has called for a hearing."

"A hearing!?" Arianne cried looking to her brother for advice.

"She says that she has a witness to a heinous crime," Oliva responded, shrugging her shoulders.

"Father was right, this is a bottomless pit of snakes," Arianne sighed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her brother, who from the time Oliva had barged through her door had kept silent. "So you're going to go?" He asked her, lips pursed and brow furrowed.

"It's the way it's meant to be," Arianne responded.

"Very well, that is your choice. Father will disapprove of it, I know it," Brandon snapped back.

Arianne scoffed. "You cannot disapprove of a royal suggestion made by the King unless you want to be returned home headless. Now leave before you make me truly angry."

Oliva cleared her throat before anything more could be said, "I was told that you were to eat and leave or just leave Arianne. We shouldn't waste the Kings time."

Arianne nodded her head, she looked at her brother, her eyes almost begging him for forgiveness. "Please understand this Brandon." She took hold of his hand and led the way to the door. "Let's go and see what heinous crimes I have committed, we can talk later after dinner."

Oliva once more cleared her throat. "They asked for only you."

Brandon frowned, looking at the maid in suspicion. "Tell me how it goes." He said to Arianne, letting go of her hand and leaving the room.

Oliva replaced his hand with hers and led the way to the dining hall. Once they stepped outside, Arianne noticed that the day was drawing to an end, the sun mixing with the sky and creating an array of reds, oranges, and purples. "It's so beautiful." She said, tapping Oliva's arm. Oliva merely nodded in response, humming her agreement. "I wonder what they think I have done. Did they mention anything to you?" Arianne asked her once more, twiring the necklace she wore in her fingers.

Oliva looked at the girl sighing, her eyes desperate to tell her something but her lips refusing her. "You will be alright."