a startling event

Jon rose early the next morning, mind slowly recovering from the sleep and the previous night's activities. He rubbed his eyes, stifled a yawn, and regarded the sleeping woman next to him. Her breasts, swollen with milk, heaved up and down in a sleep rhythm, one hand casually resting on the expanded swell of her stomach. He hesitated for a moment, but then placed his own hand over her stomach and felt a flood of emotion wash over him as the child within stirred inside her. This whole situation he had found himself in was one of utter madness and he truly had no idea what would happen in the coming days, if he had potentially brought about the downfall of his House, of if his foolishness had botched any hope of a true alliance with House Tyrell. Margaery had changed on a fundamental level, and even if one could look past the sheer insanity of her transformation, Jon was under no illusions that this would earn him the ire of Lord Mace and the entourage of Reach Lords ready to avenge the rose of Highgarden's honour.

But looking at things right now, on a very basic level Jon found himself quietly moved by the fact that he was soon to be a father. His own role within House Targaryen had been an uncomfortable one given the issues regarding his father taking a second wife, but he had always longed for children of his own to love and to nurture in a way that hadn't always been the case with his childhood. Things were confusing, but Jon could only take them as they came.

He slipped from the bed as quietly as he could, dressed and washed himself, and slipped from the room. Summerhall was mostly deserted due to the fact that reconstruction was not truly complete and that the crown was also busy with more vital affairs. As such, the castle was inhabited mostly by the most basic of caretakers, who were utterly loyal to House Targaryen and made themselves scarce at the slightest command from Jon. His own guards had set themselves up around the castle, but he had ensured that they kept their distance from the quarters he had established for Margaery. It was a pleasant day out and Jon found himself drawn to the courtyard, where he went about his training regime as a means to calm his mind.

Eventually, once his body was warmed with exertion and his mind found itself on point, Jon decided that he would adorn himself in a cloak again and ride to the nearest village and fetch a midwife. Margaery's situation was unnatural, but Jon could assume that she must have been very near to her time and he would need to do all that he could to ensure that the process went as smoothly as possible. He took only a couple of guards with him, and left orders for the others to take a care around the lady while he was gone, ensuring that she would be mostly tended to by her female servants.

It was a half day's ride to the nearest village, but Jon had no trouble procuring the services of a local midwife, not when he had enough coppers to feed both her and her family for weeks. Naturally Jon kept his face concealed underneath a hood, but the old woman knew better than to ask any real questions about her current task.

As soon as Jon returned to the castle, he knew something had happened. Even his loyal guards who had been at his side for years seemed on edge and did little to stop him as he raced through the half-built castle to Margaery's chamber. His mind swirled with the thousand potential horrible scenarios, but once he entered the chamber those thoughts died at once.

Sitting in her bed, chestnut hair looking a mess, drenched in sweat, but very much looking content was Margaery, and within her arms was a dozing newborn. Jon could barely string together two thoughts, let alone a sentence as he stared at the child. His child.

Margaery caught his gaze and smiled softly. "She's just gone to sleep," she whispered with a pleasant sigh, "come meet your daughter, my prince."

"My daughter..." Jon breathed the words like they were a foreign language, but softly approached the bed and gazed down at the child. She was soft and red faced, but Jon could barely take his eyes off her, taking in every inch of her tiny face. He was a father.

"It was not nearly so hard as I had heard," Margaery whispered, smiling conspiratorially, "but now she is here. What shall we call her, my love?"

Jon searched through his memories. A Targaryen name itself would not be entirely appropriate, but he wanted something to honour his first child. He thought of great queens, but more importantly he thought of kind queens and princesses throughout his family's history. "Alysanne..."

"A beautiful name," Margaery rested her head against his shoulder. Her scent was delightful, and in that moment Jon felt stupidly happy. After a moment she exhaled again, "But what are we going to do now?"

The reality of the situation crashed upon him and with **** **** he tore his gaze from his sleeping child. There were a thousand issues that would come about now that the little girl was born between two parents who were not lawfully wed in the eyes of Gods and Men. There was also the added problem that the girl was a Targaryen bastard with two highborn parents, talk would stir of another Blackfyre issue.

"We must keep her a secret," Jon said at last. "Few would believe this situation regardless of the truth, but we cannot allow anyone but a close few know of her, at least not until after we are wed...then I shall have my father legitimise her as our trueborn daughter."

Margaery looked at him carefully, and though he couldn't be sure why, he thought there was a strangeness there that made him feel slightly unsettled. Eventually she turned her gaze back to the child, dozing in her arms. "Very well, then."

"It'll only be for a few months," Jon said, trying to soothe the woman as best he could. "She shall remain here, with as many servants and guards as necessary. She'll be close by so that we can visit her as often as we like, I swear it. Once we are wed I will get this all sorted out and we shall be a family."

The Tyrell nodded, but did not quite meet his eye. "May I have a little time alone?" her voice was strange, distant, "I'm very tired."

"Of course," Jon agreed, feeling somewhat hesitant, "I'll be in the next room, and I'll have a servant on call should you need anything."

Slowly he stood up and took one final look at his new daughter. He frowned a little, looking down at the child. Did she have brown tuffs of hair when he first came in? He couldn't be sure, but dismissed the notion. He was tired and the day had been eventful. Jon leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the child's brow before leaving the chamber.