A Wedding...

Aegon and Myrcella's wedding was a dull and tedious affair. Guests from every corner of the realm were in attendance, each and every one of them there to insert themselves into the crown prince's grace in the hopes that he would favour them once he came into his throne. Jon smiled and nodded at them all, playing the gracious younger brother, all the while resenting these newcomers for how little care they showed towards the current king. Rhaegar's health had slipped quickly, but the king managed to keep himself very present in the ceremony, pained though he was.

Margaery was her usual charming self, winning the hearts and minds of everyone she encountered. On some level Jon suspected that it was a power play to draw some of the attention away from Myrcella, but if that was the case then she did so subtly and when Rhaenys came to him gushing about how kind his wife-to-be was Jon couldn't help feeling strangely proud. She would be a good wife and under different circumstances he would be exhilerated at their future together, yet Olenna was never far from his thoughts.

The Queen of Thorns was indeed carrying his child, and if that basic fact wasn't mad enough, there was the matter of the speed at which the pregnancy was developing. He estimated that it had been a few weeks since conception, and already the woman looked four months along. What was Olenna going to do when it became impossible to conceal her condition? What would become of the child, born from such an altered mother? It was a troubling concept, and one that cast a long shadow over his future.

Eventually the night came to it's end and Aegon took his wife to bed, the two of them foregoing the typical bedding festivity when met with the steel gazes of both Aegon and his bride's grandfather Tywin Lannister. Jon knew that he had fulfilled his obligations by this point, and informed his family that he was for bed.

"A moment, son," The king's pale shaky hand gently grasped Jon's arm, "in a few days time I intend to hold a ceremony in the Sept of Baelor...I would have you there in attendance so that together we can announce the date of your and Margaery's wedding."

Jon bowed his head, briefly smiling over at the girl, "Aye father, I'll be there."

The few days happened to be stretched out to a full seven in order to appease the High Septon's view of propriety after Aegon's wedding. The actual ceremony was a blessing that the king had asked for, whereby the High Septon and a few of his other holiest acolytes would beseech the Seven to offer their protection and care onto Rhaegar. Jon knew that it was a foolish effort, but did not chastise his father for trying something last ditch. Jon was, however, dissapointed that Aegon and his Lannister kin chose to sojourn to the Westerlands rather then join the rest of the Targaryen household in attendance.

From a series of doorways came the sounds of solemn chanting as perhaps three dozen of the most faithful of the Septon's white and gold-robed members began to file in and take their place to form a seven pointed star, with Rhaegar in it's centre. Last to emerge was the High Septon himself, who carried a staff with a golden seven pointed star at it's head.

Jon watched on beside his sister and her mother, noting the identical stoic yet hopeful looks writ across their faces. The High Septon begun his chanting, speaking a number prayers that Jon mostly tuned out as he wondered how the others felt at Aegon being absent from something that was clearly so important to them.

Eventually the High Septon called for Rhaegar to genuflect before him and at the same instant his knee touched the polished marble, a noise caught Jon's attention. Turning ever so slightly, Jon saw as Ser Barristan shoved him aside slightly, a look of alarm in his blue eyes. Jon looked down in silent horror as a crossbow bolt stuck out from his throat. In that moment of shock, several things happened at once.

One of the High Septon's acolytes lunged forward and slashed downwards with a concealed blade in a deadly motion. There was a mist of red, several screams of horror, and the fallen body of the king as it collapsed lifelessly on the marble.

Yanking their hands from the roomy, opposite sleeves of their robes, several of the acolytes turned to advance on the Targaryen family. Knives were thrown, taking out a couple of guests nearby while Jon grabbed Rhaenys and Elia, ushering them behind him. It was chaos and the grand chamber echoed with screams as the Knights of the Kingsguard moved into action while Ser Oswell stood as shield for his living charges. Ser Arthur and Ser Gerold began cutting down attackers in a mad flurry of ****.

What followed was madness as Ser Oswell funnelled Jon, Rhaenys, Elia, Margaery and Danaerys through the crazed throng of panicking nobles and confused peasants. A wheelhouse was waiting for them which Oswell ushered them into, sitting in front demanding the carriages driver to take them away with all haste. His kin was clinging to him and each other, crying in utter grief.

Jon regarded his trembling hands and it felt as if the world had shifted. His father was dead.