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Cracks In Our Foundations

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Doubtlessly, you are now wondering why it is that the details are less forthcoming than before. My dear brother, the word I bring might shock you well beyond comprehension. Pray, bear in mind that I was equally shocked when first I realised the purpose of all these subterfuges. Having said as much, I believe it is time I lay before you the whole of it as I was able to piece together through the numerous interviews. What I write here is to be kept in strict confidence between us. This letter I have entrusted into the care of Ser Eddard Stark with the expectation that he, being part of it, will exercise utmost care.

To begin from the very beginning, as there is seldom a better place to start; the rumour must have reached even you, though you spend much time at the back stables in the company of horses, that father and Lady Baratheon at one point were rather scandalous in their comport. It was at that tourney no one has deigned to hush about in so many years that our esteemed sire saw fit to crown Lady Baratheon queen of love and beauty. Naturally, both were properly chastised and the incident was considered over and done with. Alas, the truth is somewhat different. The situation was neither as innocent, nor quite as lacking in consequences as we have been lead to believe. The closeness between out star-crossed lovers translated into a rather meaningful connection.

It seems that through some deviltry the lovers colluded to continue with various assignations until the present Lady Baratheon found herself in a, shall we say, delicate position. Her nuptials to the departed Lord Robert were a much needed reprieve from the liaison and, for a time, enough to keep the two of them apart. Jon was born perilously close to what one might call premature timing. While I cannot say beyond the shadow of a doubt that he is not the blood of the stag, his lady mother seems to believe it is the case.

Naturally what followed was a brief pause during which I understand little was exchanged between the two of them as Lady Lyanna had her hands full with a wastrel and a child, two separate creatures, to be certain. Father did, however, pay a short visit to Storm's end. I believe it was the anniversary of the previous lord's death. Cassana Baratheon was born within the year, named after her perished grandmother. To think all this time I never quite made out the subtle shade of her so very blue eyes.

The next opportunity for mischief presented itself during that fateful rebellion staged by our very own reavers. Needless to say, the Ironborn had not counted on the fact that they would be so easily crushed. The rest should be rather clear as you and I were both within the Red Keep when Maekar was born. The rest you know yourself, suffice to say, that the children you know followed and all of them share the same strange shade of blue eyes, neither quite as their father's, or they look like their mother.

There is one exception.

Her name is Janei. Jon insisted. Despite the undignified name, I promise you she is every inch the little dragon. I do believe she looks more like father than even you do. I wish I had a talent for painting with oils that I might send you her likeness. Lady Lyanna's concern is warranted in that she mistrust anyone who creeps too close to the babe. But father has reached some manner of understanding with that odious uncle of their. I swear he is the most tiresome man I have ever had the misfortune of setting my wits against. The thought that he is to take his brother's place on the council is nearly enough to give me kittens.

So you see, my dear brother, we have gained a sure sister and some dubious ties, some of which force us to reconsider much of our plans together. Lady Cassana is to wed the son of a Myrish magister, an accomplished young man whose acquaintance I have made as he travelled to see his betrothed. On that account I can but say she is a very fortunate girl. And in some ways she is touched by misfortune as well. I know you well enough by now to foresee your disappointment. There is little consolation than to remind you the laws of gods and men forbid a love such as the one you envisioned.

Had you been a tad more subtle, I might have worked something out for you. As matters stand, Jon had agreed to father's plan as soon as he proposed it. Our poor Cassana did not even utter a protest herself which leads me to believe much as she loved you, she did not dare confined in you. I can happily report she and the magister's son get along well enough, as well as two people fumbling blindly for their High Valyrian vocabulary are wont to at any rate, so you need not worry for her wellbeing from here on out. Note that Jon was most af adamant I write these words to you, and I have done my duty by him. I daresay, admirably well.

So here is what shall happen once I have returned: you and I will discuss at lengths the situation you have embroiled yourself within and, by the grace of the gods, you will embrace the path mother and father have set out for you. Now that you need not carry the burden of such a sad love upon your shoulders you may concentrate on the lovely Lady Margaery and the grand plans set in place.

To prove I do not expect something for nothing, I swear you shall be made aware of even the most minute of details I have learned, which unfortunately are much too delicate to be recorded in such a public message as this here letter.

I eagerly await the moment I may see you again and leave you with best wishes for company.

You faithful sister