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As with all terrible ideas, Rhaenys is not entirely sober when she says yes.
Okay, so maybe it has only been a glass or two of cheap wine, but there must be a reason for why, when Robb suggests a combined holiday party, she doesn't say no right away.
"What with Sansa and Dany being friends, and obviously Jon, there's already a bunch of commonalities between our two families," he points out. "It could be fun."
Rhaenys stares at him. "You do remember how my father cheated on my mom with your aunt, right? I didn't just make that up?"
"You said your mom doesn't blame Aunt Lyanna for what happened," Robb says, his brow furrowing. "She's always been polite to Jon."
"Yes, yes, but are we really going to test the boundaries of who's held grudges and who hasn't?" Rhaenys says impatiently, hands waving about. "During the holidays? Last year's holidays were messy enough, and that was just with the Martells and a few Targaryens. I love you, which is why I really don’t want to subject you and your family to my family's craziness."
Robb pulls her closer, so that her legs drape across his lap. His thumb rubs absently at the ring now shining from her left hand. "I love you too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that's why I want my family to get to know the amazing, beautiful woman I love, and the wonderful people who raised her."
So yeah, obviously it's the wine that makes Rhaenys say yes.
…
T minus four weeks
"This was a terrible idea," Rhaenys says. "Fuck. What did I do."
The voice on the other end of the phone laughs mirthlessly. "Oh this is great," says Aegon, voice crackling with static. He's in Pentos right now, she thinks. Or maybe it's Lys. She can't remember. "You do remember the time the cops showed up at the last Sevenmas party? This is going to be a disaster and I can't wait."
"Shut up, I called for advice, not mockery," she whines. "Fuck. Robb's only ever met a few of the family in controlled environments, there's no way he's ready to meet Oberyn after four cups of eggnog."
"Ooh, do you think Dany will bring her boyfriend?" Aegon asks eagerly. "Whats-his-face, the one with all those piercings and tattoos? That'll be sure to scandalize Mrs. Stark."
The last time Rhaenys had seen Daario, he had proudly shown her the very nice dagger he carried, the one with the very naked woman carved on the handle. She had not liked him.
"Dany and Daario broke up a couple of weeks ago, thank the fucking Seven." Rhaenys loves her aunt dearly. She loves her aunt's taste in men much, much less.
"Hmm, small mercies at least," hums Aegon, the fake sympathy evident even over the phone. "Hey, when it all goes horribly wrong, wanna join me in Volantis?" Right, it's Volantis he's in, for that performance art festival. "There's a very nice resort here that serves some top notch margaritas, with kumquats and curaçao. It's a great place to hide out while the feds investigate whatever arson case the party turns into."
Rhaenys doesn't consider it, even for a moment. Well, for more than a moment. Those margaritas do sound enticing. "Nice try, but I promised Robb. I can't back out now."
She hears a loud slurp from the other end of the phone. "Pity. The margaritas really are nice."
Rhaenys sticks her tongue out, even if Aegon isn't there to see it. "Eat glass. Maybe I could just, I don't know, cancel it all and convince Robb to run off to Pentos to elope?"
"Go ahead, but good luck telling Mom you eloped."
She winces. "I'm definitely fucked."
"Oh yeah."
…
T minus three weeks
Jon, at least, understands her alarm.
"You let Robb convince you to agree to his terrible, awful idea?" he asks, horrified. "You want him to meet Viserys? After the cranberry sauce incident?"
"Viserys isn't invited this year, Mom promised," she assures him. "Because he, you know, sucks."
"That he does," Jon agrees. "But still. Didn't Uncle Brandon and Oberyn play on rival teams back in college?"
Rhaenys groans. She'd forgotten about that. "Oh fuck. That's definitely gonna get brought up."
"You think?" Jon asks sarcastically. "You could always just, I don't know, call it off. Break up with Robb. Give me my cousin back."
"Hmm, how about no?"
"C'mon, you guys together is basically incest!"
"It's not incest!!!" Rhaenys does not scream because she is feeling very cool and rational about everything. Maybe she raises her voice a little bit and gets some odd looks from passerby. It's fine. It's all fine. "Seven hells, Jonathan, he's your cousin, not mine! Stop making it weird!"
"You're the one making it weird!"
"Ugh!"
They have had this conversation approximately forty times. Aegon thinks Jon will eventually get over himself, that he'll learn to see the positives of two of his favorite people together. Rhaenys thinks both of her brothers have a nontrivial amount of brain damage.
"Who's even hosting this?" asks Jon. "It's gonna be, what, fifty people total?"
"Only forty."
"Only forty??"
"We're hiring a caterer?" She's not sure if she's reassuring even herself. "And Mrs. Stark said Winterfell is probably the best place to host, since it's the biggest house."
"And what about religion?" Jon demands. "We've got two major faiths to accommodate for, and that's not even accounting for the Riverlander and Dornish variants of the Faith."
"Technically three, if Aegon is still serious about now following R'hllor."
"Yeah, that's not gonna last." Aegon goes through phases. They're pretty sure this new religious interest is just the latest one.
"Oh, definitely not. But Mrs. Stark has lots of experience hosting interfaith celebrations, she said she could handle it."
Catelyn Stark approaches event planning with the calm, collected demeanor of a sniper loading a rifle. When Robb had told her about his idea for a giant, collective holiday party, she apparently hadn't even blinked. She has sent Rhaenys multiple charts and lists, all color-coded, to help prepare for the party. There were some moodboards involved. If Rhaenys weren't happily engaged, she thinks she would be proposing to her.
"Hey, you think if I tell Robb about your sophomore year spring break, he'll break up with you?" Jon asks hopefully. "Maybe then we can call this whole disaster off."
"Do that, and I'm telling your mother you're still hanging out with the Night's Watch," Rhaenys snips back, voice sweet as arsenic.
"I hate you."
"Right back atcha, squirt."
It's fine. It's fine. Well, it will be, as soon as she extracts a promise from Tyene to not, under any circumstances, bring her spiked punch. That shit's dangerous.
...
T minus six hours
"I just don't understand why I had to be here early," whines Aegon, not for the first time. "I could've slept in, arrived to the party at the beginning with Mom."
Rhaenys takes her eyes off the rather icy road for a moment to glare at her brother. Despite the bulky winter coat and excessive layers of wool, he still somehow manages to exude the aura of someone whose tanning on a Lysene beach has just been interrupted. "Because I need someone else on my side to make sure Winterfell is as Targaryen- and Martell-proof as possible. Robb, bless his heart, still thinks we're a decent, normal family, and Jon would like nothing more than to see tonight go horribly. You are going to tie bows, set up lights, and for the love of all that is holy, make sure Mrs. Stark keeps the Arbor Gold away in the cellar."
"You're marrying someone who drinks Arbor Gold?" he asks, incredulous. "Seven hells, I thought you had better taste than that."
"Oh gods no, Robb doesn't drink that swill." Rhaenys may not have lived in Dorne since before college, but she still has plenty of Dornish pride left in her. "But some in his family do prefer it to a proper Dornish red, and because they are otherwise very nice people, we are not going to hold it against them."
Aegon makes a disbelieving noise. "I might hold it against them a little."
"Oh, I am too, absolutely." She reverses the car into a haphazard parking spot near the garage, accidentally scraping the side door against the bushes. She winces.
"Nice parking job."
"Shut up."
They trudge up to the door in silence, each battling more with the knee-high snow than they would ever admit. The large, wolf-headed knocker thuds heavily against the door, almost immediately answered by the distant barks of the Stark wolf pack.
Aegon goes the slightest bit pale. "Exactly how many dogs do the Starks have again?"
"Hmm? Oh, one for each kid, including Jon."
"Ah."
"If it helps, I think Sansa left hers at home." She does not mention that Sansa's dog is also the best behaved of them. "Don't worry, they don't bite." Mostly.
The door opens, Robb standing across the threshold in a henley and worn jeans. He grins. "Glad you two could make it!"
Rhaenys smiles back. "You're looking casual today." She stretches up to give him a chaste kiss. "It's good to see you."
Behind Robb, Jon is making gagging sounds. Aegon pushes past them, stamping his boots loudly on the entry rug to shake the snow off.
"Hurry up, it's cold outside," he complains. "And close the door already."
"You close the door," Rhaenys retorts, but Robb moves to the side to let her step across the threshold. "And hello to you too, Jon, always good to hear your wonderful voice."
Mrs. Stark appears around from around the corner, arms laden down with wreaths. "Rhaenys, Aegon, it's lovely to see you two," she says, voice suffused with warmth. "Thank you for coming to help, we've still got some decorations to hang."
Aegon shoves his hands in his pockets, looking nonchalantly at his feet. Rhaenys elbows him as subtly as she can.
"Ow - uh, what can I help with, Mrs. Stark?"
Mrs. Stark unceremoniously unloads the wreaths onto Aegon. He staggers for a moment under their weight. Boughs of weirwood make up most of the wreaths, the white branches and scarlet leaves interspersed with the occasional bundle of holly.
"If you don't mind, these need to be hung up around the main hall." Her welcoming tone has taken on the slight inflection of an army sergeant. Rhaenys finds herself standing up straighter. "Jon dear, could you call the caterers? I need them here by four, or there won't be food by the time people start arriving."
"Right away, Aunt Catelyn."
"And Robb, sweetheart, you and Rhaenys are in charge of getting the drinks and table settings ready. And make sure you change into something nicer before people start arriving."
"C'mon, Mom, of course I will."
Mrs. Stark rolls her eyes affectionately. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two be." She gives Rhaenys a tight hug. "Welcome to the family, dear. I hope the craziness doesn't overwhelm you too much."
"Oh, trust me, there's no way your family could be worse than mine." Mrs. Stark laughs. Rhaenys does not.
…
T minus zero
The doorbell rings just as Rhaenys is fixing the last bit of her makeup. She sets down the tube of lipstick with a quiet, but resolute Fuck. Time to face the firing squad.
It's her mother at the door, carrying a tray of Dornish almond sweets and accompanied by Doran and his kids.
"I can take those," says Robb, appearing to her right and carefully taking the tray from Elia. "Please, come on in."
Rhaenys hugs her mother warmly. "Hi Mom." To Robb, she says, "Put those by the rest of the desserts, babe, and don't even think about touching them until dessert."
He laughs. "So little faith in me," he teases. "Maybe your mom should make them less addicting, I don't know if I'll be able to help myself. Merry Sevenmas, Ms. Martell."
Elia gives Robb a one-armed hug, cautious of the tray of sweets. "A happy solstice to you, Robb. And please, it's Elia."
Arianne appears like a whirlwind, shaking her hair free of her hat. "Rhaenys!" She wraps her cousin in a bone-shattering hug, only letting go to grab Rhaenys's hand. "Is this it, the ring?"
Somehow, in all the rush of preparation, Rhaenys had forgotten that this would be the first time much of her family would be seeing her since before the engagement. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, this is it." The ring is a simple gold band studded with a fire opal that she and Robb had picked out together.
"So, how'd he do it?" Arianne demands. "Sky writing, on a gondola in Braavos, what? I'm dying with anticipation, Rhae."
She rolls her eyes. Arianne has always lived for big, romantic gestures, and if she and Daemon ever get their act together, she can bet that he will be putting together a proposal worthy of the movies. "None of that," she says. "Robb and I just talked about it, realized we both wanted to get married, and went to a jewelry store. Nothing exciting."
Arianne huffs. "Gods, you're too practical. Did he at least get on one knee?"
Rhaenys's lips quirk up at the memory. Her gaze flickers inadvertently to where Robb is chatting with Quentyn. "Yes," she says, and refuses to elaborate. It had been that night they had talked engagement, every word laden with tetativeness and excitement. By the night's end, Robb had taken the key ring off of his key chain, gotten down on one knee, and promised to get her a proper ring. The key ring had been comically large for her finger, they had both been wearing pajamas, and it had been perfect.
And now Lyanna Stark is arriving, covered in snow and carrying several bags of gifts, and Rhaenys's reminiscing is cut short. Elia's face goes a little frozen and Robb, bless him, sidles up to her to distract her with some small talk. Rhaenys steers Lyanna, who looks a little lost at the sight of Elia Martell, into the living room, where Jon and some of the younger Starks are gathering.
Her victory at averting this particular crisis is short-lived, however, as she hears Oberyn's distinctive laugh come from the door. She leaves the warm cocoon of the toasty living room and makes her way back into the foyer, where Oberyn and Ellaria are just now entering, their brood trailing behind. Sarella, the traitor, had said she couldn't come, citing her upcoming thesis presentation as an excuse, but the rest of the girls had made the trek up north. Catelyn greets them with mildly overwhelmed politeness, and Rhaenys grabs Aegon before he can escape.
"Go help Mrs. Stark with the cousins," she hisses. "And tell Oberyn to be on his best behavior tonight, or I'm not inviting him to the wedding." She loves her uncle and his family dearly. She also knows they can sometimes be an acquired taste.
"Why can’t you do it?" he whines, without much heat.
The doorbell rings and Rhaenys releases Aegon to go open the door. She freezes.
"Merry Sevenmas," says Jon Connington, but she's not looking at him. "Uh. I hope it's okay I invited your dad?"
"Hey, little dragon," Rhaegar Targaryen says, and pulls her into an awkward hug.
Rhaenys likes Jon Connington. He and Elia have a friendship that she has never quite been able to explain, and she's pretty sure Oberyn dated him once. At this moment, however, she is overwhelmed by a sudden, visceral desire to kill Jon Connington with her bare hands.
"Um. Hi dad." She pulls away as politely as she can, and looks behind her. The room is looking at Rhaegar in quiet, deadly shock. Aegon looks about ready to bolt. Oberyn's eyes have narrowed dangerously, and she's pretty sure that if Ellaria didn't have a tight hold of his arm, there would soon be a murder in this house. And Elia, because Rhaenys's mother is a better person than her father ever deserved, has turned around and entered a loud, pointed conversation with Ned Stark, who keeps shooting glares at Rhaegar.
"Merry Sevenmas, you two!" says Rhaegar, slinging an arm over Aegon's shoulders. Oh, Rhaenys would kill to be as oblivious as her father. Well, Rhaenys might just kill, period. "Where's Jon?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Rhaenys sees Brandon and Benjen Stark coming up the stairs to the house. Brandon's expression mirrors Oberyn's. If she were a praying woman, she would start praying now.
"Quentyn!" she says loudly, startling her poor cousin. Out of everyone in this room, she thinks Quentyn is the least likely to kill Rhaegar. "Why don't you and Aegon show my dear dad where to put his coat and see if you can find Jon?"
"Um," says Quentyn, looking rather like a deer in the headlights. "I don't know-"
"Wonderful, thank you so much, help yourself to the drinks," she says, steering them to the stairs to the side. Aegon shoots her a glare that could peel paint. "Merry Sevenmas, happy solstice, can't wait to catch up!"
"What was that asswipe doing here?" demands Brandon, entering just as Rhaegar disappears up the stairs.
"Brandon, language!" snaps Mrs. Stark. In the back of her mind, Rhaenys recalls that the two of them had once dated.
"I am so, so sorry," Jon Connington tells her in a low voice. "I didn't mean to invite him, but I let slip that there was a joint holiday party happening, and well, you guys are his kids, I didn't know how to tell him he shouldn't come."
Rhaenys closes her eyes for a single, blessed moment. She wonders if it's not too late to grab Robb and run. "You're in charge tonight of keeping my dad from getting punched. He probably deserves more than a punch, but Mrs. Stark, Robb, and I have worked too hard on this party to ruin it with some assault charges."
Jon nods, a chagrined look on his face. "I promise I'll keep him out of trouble. Sorry again."
She sighs. "Merry Sevenmas, Uncle Jon." She gives him a quick hug. "Maybe your resolution for next year can be to work on getting over my idiot father."
He looks pained. "Yeah, maybe. Merry Sevenmas, Rhae. And congratulations on your engagement."
Beyond the doorway, Rhaenys can see Dany's little red car pulling into the driveway. She should stay and greet her aunt, but first she is getting herself a drink.
…
Somehow, against all expectations, the evening progresses without any significant catastrophe. Sure, Rickon accidentally tips over the solstice candles and starts a small fire, but beyond the scorch marks on the rug and the scolding he gets from his mother, there is no major damage. At one point, Rhaenys gets cornered in the kitchen by her father and has to force herself to listen to him talk about his latest album. She only escapes by flagging down Aegon and strong-arming him into subbing in for her. She'll owe him one, but she's pretty sure she can cash in one of her old favors.
The night winds down slowly, some people trickling out the door while others stay behind to enjoy the still-flowing eggnog and mulled wine. Ned Stark and Doran are chatting quietly in the library, which shouldn't surprise Rhaenys, given their similar personalities. What does surprise her, is the way that Oberyn and Brandon Stark have taken to each other, after some pointed ribbing about college sports. The last time she had passed them, she had caught the words "Rhaegar" and "poison" in the same breath, and had turned around quickly. The less she knows, the better.
Most of the younger crowd has gathered in the living room, nursing their drinks by the crackling fireplace. There aren't enough seats for everyone, so Rhaenys finds herself leaning against Robb on the floor. His arm twines around her, pulling her closer to his chest and resting his chin atop her head.
"Oh, gross," says Jon, making a face.
Sansa tsk's at him. "Don't be so rude, Jon. Look at how sweet they are together, all cuddly like that."
"Thank you, Sansa, you can take the bridesmaid's position that I was going to offer to Jon," Rhaenys says, faking magnanimity.
Jon sniffs. "I didn't want it anyway."
"So, who gets to be the maid of honor?" asks Aegon, leaning forward. The glint of mischief in his eyes is far too familiar for her comfort.
"Yeah, Rhae, who among us cousins gets to be your maid of honor?" asks Nymeria, eyes narrowed. Dany pointedly clears her throat.
Rhaenys takes a hasty gulp of eggnog. She can feel Robb stifling a laugh in her hair. "I ah, haven't thought about it yet." Choosing between Sarella, Nymeria, Dany, and Arianne will be a dangerous affair, and one she does not intend to embark upon at the moment.
"What about dates?" asks Arianne, chiming in. "Summer wedding, fall wedding, what's the idea?"
"We haven't gotten that far in the planning," Robb says diplomatically. "We'll let everyone know as soon as we have a clearer idea."
"It's not too late to elope," says Rhaenys under her breath, quiet enough for only Robb to hear. Then, louder, she says, "Hey, did anyone notice how Uncle Jon and Brynden Tully left together?"
"Yeah, what was that about?" exclaims Sansa, and the conversation is blessedly changed to speculating over whatever that meant.
"See, I told you it would turn out alright," Robb tells Rhaenys. "Everyone's getting along great. Mom even mentioned something about making this a regular occasion, the great Targaryen-Martell-Tully-Stark holiday party."
True, there has not been the explosive reaction that Rhaenys had expected from prolonged contact between their families. "Alright, alright, so maybe you were a little bit right," she grouses and Robb grins. "But next time, I'm not letting my father in the door. Gods only know how he's managed to make it through the evening without getting punched."
"I think your mom and Aunt Lyanna were talking about it when I last saw them," Robb says. "Not sure how serious they were being, given the amount of wine I think they'd each had."
Rhaenys twists in his arms to look at him better. "Wait, Mom and Lyanna were talking?"
He nods. "Maybe it was the wine, but they seemed to be getting on pretty well."
"Huh." She thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, I guess sharing an asshole ex is a pretty good conversation starter. If anyone deserves to punch my dad it's them."
Almost as if on cue, there's a thud and a yelp, in that order, from the kitchens. Everyone jumps. Rhaenys takes a long drink of her eggnog.
"Happy solstice, babe."
He chuckles. "Merry Sevenmas, love."