Tales of Westros: The Hound and the Fox

Season 1, chapter 3.

Sandor had never dealt with the Florents much, Joffery Baratheon never had much of a reason to visit Highgarden. The Hound followed Joffery, never leaving him, and the boy had never gone so far south. He didn't care much either because from what he had heard they were nothing but flower loving pussies who had a knack for fighting every now and then. It was also common knowledge that Stannis Baratheon's-brother to King Robert Baratheon- wife, Selyne, was from house Florent of Brightwater, a keep in Highgarden.

The Florent Foxes. Cersei apparently thought them annoying but one name in particular was now causing her great agitation. Something about the Fox Bastard, and how she was coming to King's Landing. Hound couldn't help but over-heard her when he was around and she ranted about it, pouted to her husband the king, complained to her son Joffery and her brother Jamie. No one seemed to care except Joffery, who also seemed to know who she meant, andtwi in his young age simply followed his mother's lead.

"Of course the bloody king never cares enough to correct that little brat," Sandor thought to himself. He was with them now, standing by the royals as they entertained the Starks.

Cersei was overlooking a courtyard from an overhead balcony. Her youngest two children were playing while Sansa and Joffery sat talking, it was sad how the girl adored that boy Sandor remarked to himself. The other Stark girl, the annoying one, was off doing the Gods only knew what, good riddance. Sandor Clegane was standing by the King's side as he sat with Ned Stark and his Lannister wife.

She sat on a stone bench and looked down at the children, all blonde hair and blue eyes. "But why exactly does that Bastard feel the need to come to our gates? She has no place here in King's Landing."

Robert looked glum, "We go through this every time she comes to report. I've told you woman, stop pestering about it, Flowers is an important piece of politics. Her connections with Dorne are better than any warden I've ever sent there." Sandor saw the Queen's annoyance flash across her face. "Besides, she may be a bastard but she is still part of my side of the family, and so yours."

Ned knew how Cersei hated that remark. He knew who they meant, Flowers being the Florent bastard, who just so happened to be related to a Florent who married into the Baratheon family. Her mother, Rylene Florent, went to Dorne some time before Robert's Rebellion. She came back to Highgarden, with child, and had Flowers nine months later. She passed the baby off to a Measter and wetnurse and then sent her from house to house. That's what everyone knew, but the Hound had never seen her. He wasn't sure if her hair was Targaryen silver or Dayne brown to blonde, he didn't care either way, she was bastard bitch.

Cersei looked back at her husband with a defiant spark, "It just seems a little odd that whenever she visits, you seem to forget that you have your own children. I know she's a bastard but that doesn't make her one of yours."

"If she wasn't my bastard she'd be my heir. She's older than Joffery," he remarked.

"She's a spy you know. Everyone knows," Cersei retorted.

"Never been proven."

"Because she's also your spy."

They knew she had gone too far. Sandor looked out to the children while King Robert went on to counter her.

"Hold your tongue woman," his tone was hard. "Flowers has shown more dedication and loyalty to the crown than any of our children have yet. She's been more loyal to the crown than many of those sad piss head nobles in the courts. She's coming to make her report to Ned, it's all part of being the King's Hand."

Ned and Sandor made quick, awkward, eye contact for a moment. The Stark strode to the farthest side of the terrace and looked down at Sansa, his hands rested firmly on the stone banister. Sandor held respect for the Lord Stark, even if his honest nature and kindness wasn't wanted in court. He felt sorry for the Lord's little bird most of all. The Hound also looked away, only he looked to Joffery.

"She's a bastard from a Highgarden house. Her mother has no real title and her father is completely unknown."

"You know she has Lannister blood, her hair shows it. She is highborn, her being a bastard is beside the point."

"Don't taint the Lannister house with her kind. You know its rumored the father is actually house Dayne from Dorne."

"No matter who it really is-"

"She's still a bastard." Blue eyes flashed.

"And she's still related to you and I and our children and our family." Robert's hard tone suggested that it didn't matter where she came from, in the end, she was still coming to their castle. "Flowers will be a guest here at King's Landing and you will treat her as one."

Cersei gave up for the moment, knowing she wouldn't win, and got to her feet in a rustle of skirts. "Then I will go prepare for the Florent Bastard."

She departed and the king hardly watched her go. Ned turned round and went back to conversing with King Robert about things Sandor couldn't give a shit about. He began making his way down to the courtyard, taking a spiraling staircase down passed the other floors and King's Guards. He detested those stuck up swines. Walking around as if those cunts were saints. He would never become a knight, no matter how much the Lannisters and King Robert pushed it.

His mind, bored of nothing but children running around, wandered to the subject of Cersei's hatred. This Flowers woman was related to the Baratheons, another bastard to add to Robert's unofficial menagerie of illegitimate offspring. He smirked, bastards. Westros was crawling with bastards, he knew half of them in King's Landing had to belong to the fat cunt himself. Not to mention she was a spy, as Cersei said.

He stepped out of the stairwell and into the sunlight. He stayed in the shadows, his scarred and burned face kept him there, it only terrified the little ones, like Sansa.

Whoever she was, he figured she was just another bastard child. He expected her to be a young one, even though it didn't sound as if she was. She couldn't be too beautiful, if she was Florent. He had seen Stannis's wife. . .she was comely but not pretty. Cersei's infamous Florent bastard must be something like that. He knew he wouldn't have t wait long to see what she looked like, he wasn't interested in her but it would bring a new face to distract everyone.

Cersei and Sandor didn't have to wait very long.


The day for arrival was bright and breezy, a lovely blue sky with light puffs of clouds. A procession of horses was making their way into a lesser courtyard of the castle. Ned and his girls stood on the low steps awaiting their quest. As King's Hand, Ned had taken it upon himself to welcome his new political equal. Sansa stood as tall as she could and made sure her dress wasn't wrinkled. Arya fidgeted by her father's side, he looked down at her observantly. He gave her small shoulders a gentle squeeze of encouragement as the head of the party came into view.

When Florentine came to King's Landing she couldn't help but smile. She wouldn't get a royal procession, but she was welcomed warmly by her Baratheon extended family. Her long brown hair was tipped with silvery blonde and it whipped around her slightly larger ears in the breeze. She had high cheekbones found father south, full, pouting lips and startling eyes of violet. Atop her white and grey stallion she proudly rode into the front courtyard of King's Landing.

No one ever thought of her as a simple bastard by the way she sat tall in the saddle, the way she looked so elegant about herself. Her narrowed eyes lazily looked about, secretly observing everything within sight. Many of the household dignitaries to King Robert actually quite liked her, she knew that and used it. They greeted her warmly and with open arms. She smiled graciously and nodded to them as she rode up to the steps.

There was Ned Stark, a man she had never really met but heard about constantly. She lightly jumped down from her horse and looked back at her gathering entourage of fifteen other people. A group made of her various keepers, advisors and handmaidens. Many of them had been following her since her first steps. She smiled and turned back to face the Stark. She found him handsome and instantly liked him.

On either side of him were two girls she assumed were his daughters. She lifted her soft brown and dark teal skirts, her bright Florent flower peppering the brown under dress. She went up the steps and when she reached the King's Hand she extended her own and looked into his eyes. Her purple orbs met his blue ones and he smiled back, and felt their instant connection.

He took her hand," Welcome Florentine Flowers. Welcome to King's Landing. My name is Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, King's Hand. These are my daughters, Sansa," the red-head with his blue eyes. She curtsied sweetly and offered a timid hello. "And Arya." He nodded to the smaller girl with darker hair.

Florentine beamed at them, "A pleasure to finally meet you and your family Lord Stark. In truth, I've heard much about you from the time I was small. It's a pleasure." She looked down at the girls. "It s a pleasure to meet you as well girls," she looked from one to the other. "I hope we can be friends since I'll be working with your father."

Sansa smiled and nodded. Arya smiled out of politeness. The eldest Stark girl liked this newcomer, she was kind and beautiful already. The younger sister knew she was kind but had more urgent matters on her mind. Matters of the sword. Florentine looked back to Ned.

"The servants will take your things to your apartments," he said as he led her inside. He offered his arm and she took it happily. "If you would allow me to escort you."

As they walked forward Sansa and Arya dutifully followed their father. Along the way Florentine asked about his son Bran.

"I caught word of his alignment and I must say I'm deeply troubled by it. Such a terrible misfortune to befall one so young." She looked to him with genuine concern.

Her truthful concern was clear in her eyes. "I thank you Florentine. It is a difficult time for our House but we're holding strong."

"Yes," she said with a smile. "I've heard your wife is a very strong and brave woman."

"I was unaware that she had stories told of her."

"Not court stories of course. But I have heard of you and your wife and from what I gather, she's quite a woman. And your daughters are simply darling!"

Her words had an effect on Ned. They had just met but already he felt she was trying to tell him something. She spoke highly of his family though they had never met before. He did know a lot about her from Robert; the King adored her as if she were his own child. She rose to her position after years of being a traveling ward. Sent from house to house who were allies and friends to the Florents, taking in the bastard on behalf of Rylene Florent.

Somewhere along the way she became an ambassador from Highgarden to their neighbors of the south; Dorne. Being an outcast of Westros, a bastard, was her greatest achievement in Dorne. Being everything that Westros hated, Prince Oberyn took her under his royal wing. With such deep and strong ties to the courts of their southern kingdom, King Robert often asked for her to come visit King's Landing. She became his official Dornish ambassador, and close friend. Being a lone female dignitary in the court's of King's Landing was rare. Even more so for a bastard.

He listened to her go on about her latest travels to Dorne and he listened with interest. She told him of the lands, but was saving the politics for the upcoming meeting that night. She spoke highly of Robert here and there, how he was very generous and kind to her over the years, something her lowly status didn't deserve.

"Oh and I have not yet seen Lord Tyrion!" She suddenly exclaimed as they strode down the hall to her chambers. "Where is my cousin?"

"I'm afraid he did not return with us from Winterfell," Ned informed her. "He chose to journey to the Wall and see it for himself."

She nodded, "Ah dear Tyrion, so far away when I decide to visit. Do you know when he shall return?" She asked kindly.

"I'm afraid I can't be certain," he returned.

"Hopefully he sees nothing but safe travels. I'm sure he is, though I wonder its freezing so far up north." She smiled and looked at him.

The man nodded, "Yes, he's with my son."

"Oh? What's this I hear? To be a Ranger beyond the Wall?"

"Yes."

"Jon promised me to be careful before he left," Arya chimed in. "He was teaching me swordplay before. Ghost was his dire wolf, he went too."

Sansa hushed her.

Florentine side glanced at Ned. "Would this be your bastard we're speaking of?"

He nodded. "Yes, Jon Snow."

"A Northern bastard," she said as if musing with the idea. "Must be a strong lad if he comes from you. To be personally chosen as King's Hand," she tactfully changed the subject. "After all, King Robert went all the way to Winterfell to ask you."

They stopped outside the doors as they were opened and he walked her inside. As her house was brought up to the rooms Ned bowed his head to her. Sansa and Arya stood by and watched with curious eyes as her belongings were brought inside by a procession of servants.

"If you'll pardon me, I'll leave you to arrange your chambers," he smiled as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

She nodded. "Where shall I find you, should I need you?"

"I shall be residing in the Tower of the Hand. I'm not sure where you could find King Robert at this time, I'm afraid. It would be best to inform him you have arrived, he will be happy to know."

She nodded again, "Thank you Lord Stark, I do need to find him and have a word or two with my cousin the king. Thank you as well for your hospitality and kindness, I'm sure we'll it will be a pleasure to serve alongside you."

Just before he left he could see the happiness in Sansa's eyes as she watched Florentine's things be brought in. He realized that it was exciting to see and meet people of the court. Florentine was from a house farther south, in Highgarden. He could see how intrigued his daughter was. The Stark knew Flowers could be trusted, already he knew she could be trusted in this dangerous place. Something told him that and he latched onto it.

"Perhaps it would be alright for Sansa to stay with you?" He mused with the idea, imploring Florentine. "If it's not too much trouble. I'm sure you've heard of her intended marriage to Joffery, it would be good for her to start learning the ways of King's Landing court."

She looked at him first with an expectant face, and then at Sansa. The little girl was bright and cheery looking. Her eyes so full of life and promise. Florentine saw much of what she wished her own life could have been. She knew the underlying reason Lord Stark wanted her to take Sansa; to protect her. After all, Ned was probably absent from her a lot and in this strange place, and she had no mother here. The Fox was sure no one was truly helpful to the girl's well being, everyone was Lannister sent no doubt.

She nodded happily, "But of course Lord Stark! I would love to have her in my company! I love making new friends."

Ned wanted to sigh in relief, now was a fragile time, he could feel it. They all could. He knew Sansa would be safe in Florentine's hands. He left them with that. The Fox turned to the Wolf and smiled. She took the young one under her arm and led her forward as her things were unpacked and arranged.

"Now how would you like to help me arrange this place? Hmm? As I begin your lessons in court life, you'll help put my chambers to right." She smiled kindly at the girl.

"Thank you Lady Flowers, I would like that very much," Sansa grinned excitedly and couldn't keep the expression off her face.

Florentine smiled brightly. "Let me introduce my people Sansa." She waved her hand in frnt of her in presentation.

One by one her closer entourage of advisors and handmaidens came forward. Oldest to youngest. Ten people in all who appeared closest to her, five elders and five younger. The youngest five were all the same age, her handmaidens. Flowers started at the front of the line with the oldest man in line.

"Maester Ryden and Arriatny of house Yelshire," The Measter and the oldest woman, both had graying hair, aged faces and the most youthful bright blue eyes. "They raised me." She smiled.

Next came two men slightly older than Ned, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. They were muscular, handsome and had swords at the hips. "The Oldflowers, Clement and Duncan. They came to the Measter's aid when he called for sworn shields to help protect his ward and wetnurse. They have protected me ever since I was babe, they were but young boys themselves."

Moving on the next person, a man the same age as the men before him. He was comparable to Ned in stature, but not as tall. He looked foreign and had wispy yellow hair with dark river blue eyes and tanner skin than the others, but still fair. He wasn't bulky like some of the guards at castle, but it was obvious that he was a fighter.

"Keaton." She smiled affectionately at the man, and earned a small smirk in return. "From house Fowler and friend from Dorne."

Sansa looked up at the towering man and was intimidated. Florentine chuckled and gently pulled her along. The last five of the group, the Stark guessed to be Robb's age, were all girls. They were the handmaidens of Flowers, all had chesnut colored hair with a lovely red sheen. Sansa couldn't help but think they all resembled each other in some way or another, mostly the hair.

"Girls from house Pommingham. I spent a lot of time there and these little ones grew up in their orchards. Their parents wanted them to have a better up-brining and asked me to take them as my handmaidens." She pointed to each one and said their name, "Aella, Siggy, twins Heather and Helen, and Trinnia." They curtsied to Sansa as each name was called.

She stepped back and smiled at them all, "They are my family, besides King Robert. Everyone, Lady Sansa Stark!" There was a chorus of hellos. Florentne laughed musically and clapped her hands. "Now enough with introductions! We have work to do," she took hands with the Stark girl and quickly flitted away to the other side of the room.

Her people all smiled and separated to work. As they went forward with the arranging, Florentine couldn't keep her eyes off the child. Such a lovely little girl of twelve or thirteen. When she was that age, the bastard had long since been flowered, and long since been departed from home. She rolled her left shoulder while they spoke, she caught herself and quickly jumped to praying that no one from her house would see. But they did.

The eldest of her service, the man who was entrusted with her since birth, saw how that shoulder pained her. He knew why. She caught him staring and her eyes widened for a flash of a moment.

"What do you think should be done Measter Ryden?" She asked. An expectant Sansa sat atop a trunk and looked back at him. As did a standing Florentine.

He didn't notice that they had been talking about the placement of a few trunks and items. He nodded.

"I trust the young Lady Stark's opinion Lady Flowers," he responded. His voice droned on in a sad way, but only Florentine heard that sadness.

She stared at him, "Yes dear Sansa we trust your capable hands."

He looked at her shoulder and she shook her head no. After which, she turned to Sansa and devoted her day to the girl. Ryden knew what lay under her clothes, what scars she bore. He could tell that it still affected her to this day, and he doubted it would be the last scar she received. He watched her with the Stark girl, saw how his Fox took a quick interest in her well-being.

He feared for his ward every time she went to King's Landing, and every time he had been there to watch over her. But there was unrest after Jon Arryn's death, unease and unrest. He knew that, as it always happened, his Florentine would become caught in this ugly web of politics. He didn't want to see her be tangled in traps she couldn't escape. She may be the Fox, but the hunters were a force to contend with.

Only an hour or two had passed with Florentine and Sansa, and the Florent was due to go find her hosts. After setting everything to right she ordered various tea cakes brought to her room. After asking the girl what her favorites were, lemon cakes, she ordered them be brought to her room. When they arrived the Fox and the Wolf sat down to enjoy the moment o their day. To pass the time the older asked the younger questions of her venture out to King's Landing from Winterfell.

They spoke of Sansa's home, of her brothers and their dire wolves. Florentine offered deep condolences for the unjust trial of her wolf Lady. It was then that Sansa went into the story of the incident with Joffery at the river. It started off as a happy little tale between her and her prince.

"We just went for a walk along the river. We found Arya and the butcher's boy practicing sword fighting. Joffery and Arya got into a fight and-"

She suddenly stopped and looked guiltily at Florentine before going silent. The Fox noticed this and leaned forward, her eyes blazing with the hunger for knowledge. She gently put one hand on Sansa's and held her comfortingly. Her intense violet eyes bore into the girl with gentle encouragement.

"Go on Sansa, I won't tell anyone. I promise." Her words were dripping with sweetness and a strong promise.

Sansa, quickly deciding it was safe to trust her, nodded. After all, Florentine wasn't a royal, she wouldn't tell Cersei. Her eyes shot downcast before looking back to Florentine.

"It was Joffery's fault," it was such a relief for the poor girl to tell someone the truth. "He attacked Arya and the butcher's boy. My sister's wolf, Nimera, bit Joffery and then ran away. Not mine. Queen Cersei had the boy put to death, and my Lady. She said it their punishment for harming the prince." She stopped and looked down again, her eyes looked close to tears.

With a sad frown, Florentine reached over and pulled the girl close to her in a hug. "My dear thing," she said softly. "I can tell you've wanted to say that for a long time now." She nodded in her arms. "Never be afraid to tell me the truth, I would never betray you. Never!" It was an unofficial vow to the Stark girl from the Florent woman, and everyone who heard knew.

With a lingering moment she looked down at the girl in her arms. Something was creeping into her mind that she didn't like, ideas and thoughts that would get her killed if she ever thought to bring them out. She looked at the ground behind Sansa and she was suddenly itching to go somewhere no one would ever think to find her. But she was unable to depart from the castle at that moment and had to accept it. The door was flung open and she moved away from Sansa, her thoughts leaving as well.

When Florentine looked up her eyes lit in joy and her face broke into happiness. She gently released Sansa and stood up, her eyes grew large when she saw her king. Her legs were quickly running to the man who walked in.

"Your majesty King Robert Baratheon!" She shouted as she dipped into a curtsy. Her eyes only looked at Robert, not to his wife and son that stood behind him. "It is an honor to be summoned back once again." She stood to her full height and smiled at her cousins.

Robert laughed loudly and wrapped her in his arms in a bear hug. She was engulfed by him but laughed and returned it. Over the years they had developed a non-sexual relationship in which she was deeply devoted to him and he her. Never having grown up with a father, when she was given to the King's Landing courts, the king took an interest in her. He had no daughters at that time and it wasn't too long after his rebellion, he welcomed the Florent bastard, his cousin by marriage through his brother's wife, graciously into his home as one of his own.

Of course, he could never give her what he gave Joffery, like the crown, but he gave her comforts to help her live happily. No one knew why he did it. Perhaps it was the simple fact that they were related through blood and marriage now. Her cousin Shireen was Florent and Baratheon, connecting her to her dear King Robert. In any case he adored her and cared for her.

"Don't be so formal Florentine!" He shouted boisterously. "You are my cousin! And an honorary guest. I'm disappointed you didn't seek me out sooner." His tone was in mock reprimand.

"I can not make excuses to a king," she said with a sly grin. Her gaze lingered for a moment in Cersei's eyes and she shivered. The Queen was so cold to her. "But I was certainly just about to find you. Little Sansa here was helping me put my apartments to right and we were off to find you."


He heard her voice before he saw her. It was the equivalent to honey to his ears. Soothing and calm, yet playful and sly. Once word reached King Robert that the Florent had arrived he gathered his wife and children and rushed to meet her. Sandor had, of course, been forced to go with them. He was beginning to be irritated that he had been in the Lannister's service for this long and still was about to meet someone he didn't know. He was Joffery's sworn shield dammit, he should know every fat cunt that comes within two feet of Joffery.

He may not have particularly loved the boy, but he took care of him and kept him safe. Cersei often remarked, to others in private, that the prince even looked up to him as a father figure. The Hound took it begrudgingly. As Robert swung the doors wide and waltzed in to see his guest's rooms, Sandor watched Cersei's face. The queen showed nothing but contempt and unrest, she really hated the woman. Whoever she was, to gain such contempt from the queen was a dangerous thing.

That's when he heard her voice. It came to him and he had to cock his head and take in more of it to understand what he was hearing. A woman's voice that he suddenly wanted to see the source of, to see what creature she could possibly be. Hound had never cared for a woman, not since his sister had turned up dead in her own bed. His brows came together in concentration and he absent mindedly followed Joffery and his siblings into the room.

Robert was embracing a young woman with brown hair. She was shorter than Robert, and the Hound couldn't see much else. He looked to Cersei and saw her holding her two youngest children, Joffery stood by her looking like a pathetic pouting prince. He copied his mother in the way she glared at the bastard. Sandor wanted to scoff but he remained silent, any noise would be a betrayal in Cersei's eyes.

The moment the new guest stepped away from the king, Sandor saw her. It was the first time that the earth stood still for him. It was the first time nothing else mattered other than that one being in his line of sight. Everything in his vision went black except for the female that stood before him, the female he doomed with his love. All he saw was the woman and every detail about her.

Her outer dress was dark blue vines on a blue background. Her under dress was a deep forest brown with the flowers of house Florent evident, her long billowing sleeves were off the shoulders. Her high cheeks bones and fair skin contrasted the sharpness of her fox like eyes.

Sandor couldn't believe what had just happened in that moment. Her eyes met his from across the room and her bottom jaw dropped just slightly, her eyes grew a little too wide. He knew she felt him.

She blinked a few times and went back to smiling at Robert. In the blink of an eye the moment was gone. She was reeling on the inside. A literal knight in shining armor stepped through her doors and as she saw him she froze. He wasn't particularly handsome; half his face was covered by his scraggly and dirty hair. He didn't look too kind in the eyes either. He was taller than her, she would see that, and had the darkest storm grey eyes.

She snapped back to attention and spoke to her king. He waved his two youngest children forward and Cersei made him wait a moment, throwing him the most wicked of glares, before walking forward with her two in her hands. Joffery walked forward as well. Florentine did nothing but smile as they were properly introduced.

"It's high time you met them Floren," he said, using the name only he called her. "This is Marcell and Tomen." He beamed as she bowed graciously to them.

"A pleasure to finally meet you your Highnesses," she grinned and they giggled.

When Florentine stood back up she met the blue eyed stare of Cersei. The Fox merely smiled at her, "Your grace. It has been much too long. Have you been sleeping lately?" She suddenly looked concerned. "You look tired."

It was a jab at the faint lines of ageing showed on Cersei's face, very faintly.

"You look well yourself Flowers. Tell me, were your travels dangerous? After all, being a bastard your journeys must be fraught with people looking to harm you."

A threat to Florentine's life on the road.

The Fox and Lioness held a brief moment of silence that only they held. Everyone else simply saw the stiff kindness and words they passed to each other. King Robert was simply watching and smiled as he ruffled Tomen's hair.

"And this is Prince Joffery, my son and heir to the throne of Westros," he announced, holding a hand out to present Joffery.

Florentine, thinking he was going to be like his siblings, stepped forward and curtsied. "Your highness, what a pleasure to meet you. You and I are cousins you know, its about time we met." Her eyes darted to Cersei and back.

The boy gave her a skeptical look. "Why isn't your name Florent? Why are you called Flowers instead?"

"Because that's what they give to the bastards in Highgarden; Flowers. For that's what she is, a bastard." The queen's lip lifted in a sneer.

Florentine looked back at her queen and slowly lowered her gaze. Cersei had planted her claws firmly above Florentine and quickly drew her line in their silent face off. The Fo knew when best to recede, and did so before her royal overlords. She nodded slowly and looked back to Joffery.

"What your mother says is true cousin. I am a bastard." She straightened back up and looked at Cersei with a grin. "I'm one of the most infamous bastards ever to grace Westros."

She just bested Cersei .

As Florentine broke into a laugh so did Robert and the two were soon doubling over. Apparently it had been the funniest thing they ever heard. Cersei rolled her eyes and looked out the window across the room. Marcel and Tomen giggled too, following after their father. Their mother hated how they liked the Fox, hated it. She looked to Joffery beside her and looked back, his sweet face and bright eyes mirroring her own feelings. At least he was on her side.

Much to Cersei's distaste, the king had his bastard cousin link her arm with his as he led her out of the rooms and to his great hall where food was being served for supper. The rest of the royal family followed behind, including Sandor and Flowers' handmaidens. As they passed each other, eyes of violet and grey met, a thousand words silently said. The women walked a little ways behind him and he could hear them whisper about his face. He knew they were. He simply stood taller and put a heavier thud into his walk.

He couldn't help but think of her and hang on every word she said. Unbeknownst to him, she couldn't keep her mind from his eyes. She was unable to listen to him speak or so much as have a word with him. She didn't even know his name, someone threw in that he was called "The Hound".

"The Hound," she hummed in her head.


"Varys!"

"Flowers."

"Three years has been too long my friend."

In the feasting hall, Varys as embracing his Florentine friend. The Fox and the unic had been allies for a very long time and had come to an understanding of one another. They had gravitated together in her early court years, and became steadfast partners. She was the one who earned his respect, and after proving herself to him he became one of the few people she trusted.

The bastard had her arms hugging the shoulders of her larger friend. He was genuinely smiling as he embraced her and they fell into step and began talking. She relayed her times traveling in the past few years, and he relayed the coming of Ned Stark and the death of Jon Arryn.

"I met Arryn once or twice," she remarked. "Right informative man, he was. Always had a thought or two to spare about the Lannisters."

He looked at her at a side glance, "Yes, he did. That's why it's he 'did' instead of he 'does'."

She nodded solemnly. "Enough with the dark dark past. What of our present? Or our future?"

He grinned.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at future telling. But the present is quiet news worthy."

She laughed gracefully. "You know how I love a good gossip."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked at her with a sly glance. "Oh I do. So do many."

She winked at him. "Those who know don't know they do. Let's have it remain that way." Her goblet saluted him.

He tipped his cup back in response. She wrinkled her nose playfully and she giggled. They fell into idle chatter and sat down side by side. Nearest them was Lord Stark and his daughter Sansa, Arya was not present. Florentine laughed and drank in peace, no one bothering her. As the night wore on she was pulled to dance with various people. She couldn't help but feel the stares or hear the whispers. So many eyes caught her and then darted away, many stared her down, judging her.

She flounced off of the floor and made her stately way back to her table. She plopped down in her seat and looked to either side of her, Varys to her right, another noble lord to her left. Most people of the King's Landing courts annoyed her, so boring compared to Dorne. But, for the sake of those she had made friends with, she bottled up her boredom and chose to amuse herself.

The face of a man swam back into view. A sworn shield no less, she didn't even know his name, or anything about him, but she wanted to know more. She saw the Starks dance across her view and clapped while laughing. When they passed, her smile became a smirk and her eyes narrowed as she let the wine begin to take her. She loved wine, she was friends with it.

Wine, sweet red wine, eased her in ways she couldn't normally be soothed. Unable to take out sexual needs at her age, wine was a constant release. Her eyes closed then, and she licked her lips. The moment they opened again she saw those very eyes, those grey eyes. They were watching her from across the room, and she stared back.

This continued, and she became frustrated. This was no place, nor the time, for flirtatious thoughts. She scoffed to herself when she thought about the complications that would arise from her choosing a husband. She wasn't even allowed to marry. With effort, she was able to divert her thoughts and turned to the Starks.

She liked Ned already, and his children were absolutely sweet. Her people were mingling about the room, the Oldflower men and Keaton stood near her. Ryden was with Pycell and Ariatny was back in her rooms asleep, the poor old thing. As the night wore on she saw a lot more of the Hound. Thankfully, Robert kept calling her to his table to say something happy about her. Each time she went to him her eyes stole a lance at the man not too far away.

After one such event she was praised for her healthy connections with Dorne. Her smooth skirts rustled as she sat in her own seat. Varys was gone but the other man still sat to her other side. She propped one arm on the table, her chin on her knuckles, and turned to him nonchalantly.

"That man with the scars on his face, Joffery's shield. I noticed him earlier but I don't believe I've ever met him."

"He goes where the prince does, never leaving his side, if you haven't met him it's because you hadn't met Joffery. That's Sandor Clegane, brother to "The Mountian that Rides". You know, Gregor Clegane.

She knew the Mountain, oh she knew that one. A man who had haunted her darkest nightmares since the moment she laid eyes on him. Ever since she was a small child.

"Yes, the Clegane brothers. I heard of his scarring but never knew to what extent." She looked sympathetic. "With such a disfigurement he must scare children. Does he not?"

The man laughed, "Of course he does. Something our prince likes to use when he doesn't get his way with other children. He has his Hound scare them away."

Another equally piggish man turned round and chimed in. "What he did to that boy on the King's Road. Tsk tsk, they say that, under the Queen's orders, he chased the boy down and ran him through."

Florentine was appalled by their careless disregard for the murder of a child. It made her think of him more, made her understand the Lannisters and their servicemen. Him, Sandor, the Hound. She shook her head and turned back to her food, all she could think of was him! Suddenly she wasn't so hungry for food.

Instead, her sight was hungry for him. She gave into her hunger and simply looked at the higher section of her table, where the royals sat on a higher platform. Lurking around behind them all was the Hound himself, a goblet of drink constantly pressed to his mouth. She did the same with her crystal chalice. Her violet eyes couldn't leave him, and she knew he kept looking at her, they looked at each other. Speaking a nonexistent conversation.

Eventually she looked away, turning to others around her. He became annoyed that she found interest in others so quickly. Perhaps she thought him too ugly, he often wondered how a woman could bare to look upon him. It made him feel withdrawn, but also mad at her. He wanted her to look at him, now began craving it. He scowled, making his face appear darker. His glare was thrown at the Fox and he didn't care who saw. But when she chose to look back at him several more times, she wasn't frightened by what she saw.

He was passing by a duo of middle aged court ladies when he picked up on their conversation. At first it was the same as the rest of the damned noise, but as he walked by he heard.

"That Florent bastard, such an interesting person."

A rude laugh, "If you think bastards are so."

"No, truly! Some say she can't love, she's never taken a lover before."

"That's not what I've heard. I heard she's a whore, for women."

"Well I heard she can't feel love. She can't feel anything. Her own mother cast her away as a mere babe, just out of the womb. Sent her straight to Oldtown with nothing but a wetnurse, just so the bastard would never see Brightwater Keep."

"So she's a virgin then?"

"That's what people don't know. On top of her suspicious reputation, her virtue is another rumor."

"The creature is built on rumors and lies."

He had heard enough. His step went down and he left them to stand by Joffery. The wine was so sharp and sweet, like Flowers voice. He could hear her speaking the entire night. She mostly spoke to Varys and Ned Stark, Ser Littlefingers was unusually withdrawn. Hound didn't like that, he didn't like the way the man looked at the bastard. It was so angry, so distrusting.

He drank his wine and his eyes darted from Cersei and Joffery and Florentine. King Robert stood up and began rattling on about some endeavor she reported from Dorne. Sandor stood there quietly as he always did, Sanso and Florentine in his sights. Both were the only people in all of King's Landing he would protect. She was virgin? He nearly expected all bastards to be whores. She could get away with being a whore.

He shook his head and scowled, enough thoughts filled his head to believe that he had known her forever. She certainly entertained him enough. It made him itchy under the armor. He hadn't said a word to her and yet he had thoughts of devious behavior with her.

It was Sansa that drew his attention to the dance floor. He saw her with her father, and among them was Varys and Flowers. They were dancing quite gracefully, and he wondered if she would ever look at him if she knew he couldn't dance. He drifted down to the edge of the floor, where a small cluster of King's Guard stood, watching the dancing ladies. Suddenly, the woman of his interest swirled by. Her skirts a flurry of blue and brown.

The bright blue flowers of Florent flashed in everyone's vision. Sandor appeared to be watching the entire crowd, but his vision intensified on the newest member of the Small Council, the only woman and bastard and member of Highgarden. He didn't pay attention to the music but if he had, he would have noticed that it stopped, he was too focused on the woman that chose to rest next to him.

He smelled roses and turned to his right. There she was, closer than she had been yet. He looked at her, she looked back and smiled. He didn't smile, but liked to see hers. She dipped a small curtsy and kept her eyes level with him. It was this close that she saw his scarring, and stared at it. But her eyes weren't probing, they seemed to take everything about his appearance into account. Not a flash of pity crossed her look, he liked that.

She didn't say a word to him, nor he to her. What would she say to him? She was a lady bastard, he was a shield. Instead she clasped her hands in a stately way and continued to stare at him. He looked forward and remained placid at her contact.

"I think scars tell a lot about a person's character," she chimed.

He looked at her, his bad eye looked down at her and she looked happily back.

"That's a piss head story, my scars don't show anything. Nothing but pain."

"That's something," she said.

He glared, she smiled.

"What?" He grumbled.

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face her and then grinned. "You seem innocent enough for a damn bastard. I heard that your virtue is a rumor."

Her smile darkened but didn't fade. "Yes it would seem so. All for lies I'm afraid. Why does my virginity interest you Hound?"

"It doesn't, Fox." He shut his mouth and stared ahead.

She was being forced to move on and desperately wanted to speak. But words eluded her, for the first time they left her. A grinned flicked upon her lips and she touched his armor with the tip of one finger.

"Until next time Ser Clegane," she had heard he detested that title and calling it would arouse what she wanted from him.

She turned on her heel and melted into the crowd. He was left there trying to stand tall. All he wanted to do was sling her over his shoulder, or throw her to the ground. Either way she would be naked and on her back, and he would be fucking her. He imagined giving it to her hard and cruel, everything that life was to him. She imagined smacking him with a frying pan, something heavy and cold. She wanted. . .

Just what did she want from him?


"I don't like her Jamie," Cersei said. "I hate her more and more each day she's here."

Her equally handsome twin brother, her lover, looked at her from his seat on the bed. Both had retired together after that night's small feast. "She's only been here one day Cersei. What could she possibly do to make you hate her in one day?"

She sneered. "It doesn't take more than one day for me to hate her."

He sighed in annoyance. "Stay away from her then."

His sister laughed mirthlessly and crossed her arms. Her normally bright eyes turned dark. "Joffery hates her too. That must justify something."

"Only because you do. Flowers has never done any harm to anyone, she's helped the crown time and time again with Dorne!" His strong features were mucked with skepticism at his sister's hatred. He never could quite understand the loathing that his twin and father harbored for the bastard. "She's never hurt you or your children."

"Our children," she corrected him in a firm, hushed voice.

He rolled his eyes and continued, "He's only mirroring your intentions towards her."

"If only Marcel and Tommen would."

He got up from their love nest on her bed. Still naked, and went to her. His hands cupped the sides of her face and weaved through her hair. He looked into her eyes to calm her down.

"Cersei, leave her alone. If you do she will see that and respect it. I know her and I know she will." His rich voice was soothing, normally it would help relieve her stress but not then.

She shook her head. "I don't trust her Jamie. Nothing about her deserves it." She looked at him curiously and slightly pulled away. "Why do you keep defending her?"

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not, you just keep fighting me."

"She's a bastard," she stressed the word bastard. "A bastard to a Highgarden house and some other unknown party. Mostly rumored Dayne."

"From Dorne?"

"Where else? You've seen her hair, you've seen her eyes."

"What eyes she has. . ."

"Targaryen eyes."

"Oh so now she's a Targaryen and Florent bastard!" He shook his head in disbelief.

"She's just barely old enough to be it."

"Listen to yourself," he pleaded. "You hate her for breathing, you want the children to hate her, and now you're claiming that she may be a bastard of Targaryen blood."

She turned round to face the starry night outside. "It would bring her end quicker."

"It's because Robert loves her more than Joffery. . ." the truth was spoken. "Isn't it?"

She looked away from him, half to the balcony. "He devotes all his time to her, every time she comes here. He's never touched her but does everything a father should; cares for her, gives her the finest, make sure she never wants for anything." She scoffed. "If he spent as much time with Joffery as he does with her they'd be father and son. He'd love our son." The word "our" had an unknown implication that not even Cersei knew. Her and Jamie? Or her and Robert?

She turned away and looked out the balcony doors. Jamie followed her gaze and saw the dark sky pitted with thousands of stars. So that was it? She was jealous that Robert loved the Florent bastard more than Joffery. She hated her for that and seemed that she always would. He knew his sister and knew that she was truly sad about it, it was a crack in her stone hard demeanor. The poor bastard had unknowingly found the one thing that gave Cersei a personal excuse to hate someone in her already unhappy marriage.

He let her brood and then shook his head and walked forward. His footsteps were muted as he padded after his lover and reached out for her.

"Enough then, enough of the bastard."

She felt his arms encircle her waist. The venomous queen couldn't help but smile at her brother's affections. She let him turn them around and walk them back to the bed. There he laid her on her back and pulled her robe away from her body. His lower body settling between her willing legs. If the lovers had been outside they would seen the shadow that silently rustled the bushes. They would have seen the figure slip over the balcony railings and scale the wall to the larger veranda below.

The lithe figure stayed to the darkest shadows as they ran through the halls and verandas. They expertly slipped around the vine covered walls and secret nooks and crannies. They were quick and their lean frame allowed them to move quieter than a bigger man could. That is why the Hound didn't try to hide as he followed them. Going along as a discreet enough pace, they didn't seem to notice him far behind, nor did any other guard around seem to so much as hear the rustle of leaves as they went along.

Whoever they were, only the Hound was clever enough to track them. As the two played a secret game of chase, he thought about something from an old child's tale, the fox and the hound. The fox was a creature so quick and agile that none of the other dogs could catch it. Only the king's Hound could follow its scent, and follow he did. He knew the fucking stupid child's story, the best part is the sad version where the fox dies at the end. Killed on the mountain by the hound.

The creature sliding along didn't feel the touch of the torches like Hound did. The light that donned his face didn't touch them. His grey eyes merely watched in silence, he had a fair guess as to who this 'spy' was, where they came from. Hey obviously hadn't done damage, and unless he was instructed to hunt them down he didn't care enough to catch them.

As he followed, he suddenly recalled how the Florent's sigil was a fox; this person reminded him of one. He also remembered Cersei claiming that Flowers was a spy. It all came to a screeching discovery as the figure scaled up a tower wall. Right to the chambers of Florentine Flowers. The Hound stood in his own shadows as he stared up at the disappearing body, they vanished into the darkened apartments. He quickly darted away, making his way to the chamber doors two flights up. Like this spy, he knew the servant tunnels well and used them to his advantage.

The figure came in through her opened balcony doors, just as she left them. She crept to the vanity by her bed. She was untying the mask around her face when a voice made her jump out of her skin.

"Out late again I see," he said, the sound of his resonance cracked the still night air like breaking glass.

"Damn you Ryden!" She hissed in the night. She faced a chair on the opposite side of the room, where she knew he was.

He remained seated and didn't light anything, but she knew he was frowning at her. She could feel it in the air. He was angry, and expecting an important answer.

"Yes," she hesitated, but admitted. "I won't lie to you, not here."

There was a creak as she sat in her vanity chair.

"We missed you at the remainder of the feast. You didn't stay long after Joffery and Sansa left."

"I had other matters to attend to," she whispered.

There was a sigh and a pause.

"Where were you? Did anyone see you? Are you injured?" He asked her the series of questions in a tone that implied he had asked them many times before.

She shook her head in the dark.

"No one saw me, I'm sure of that," he heard the rustle of clothes and guessed that she was changing out of her criminal wear. "No, I'm not injured, not a scratch. It was just to feel this place again. It's been nearly three years since my last visit, I missed the castle and all its mysteries."

She pulled the long, form fitting robe off the back of her chair and quickly tied it on.

"I went to see Cersei. I wanted to talk to her in private first. But then I saw her brother go into her rooms, her brother Ryden!" Her voice was still a whisper. "And you can only imagine what he had to speak to her about." She didn't have to explain her suggestion.

"And what do you gather from their Targaryen practice? It must mean something to you if you talk of it now." He could hear it in her voice, some nagging suspicion that she had discovered not long before. Something she was obviously thinking hard about.

She was quiet before going on. What she was about to deduce could put the entire country in an uproar if the wrong ears passed by. She silently got up and crept across the room to Ryden, he waited patiently for her. Down on her knees, her hands clasped his in his lap and he could feel the tension coming from her. It made him concerned and he leaned forward slightly in seriousness.

"Before Joffery there was another boy child," she started her idea slow, still piecing it together. "Robert told me he had dark hair, like his own. But suddenly, after that poor thing died in the cradle, all of Cersei's children are golden haired." She gave a paused for thought, and it sounded deadly to her ears. "Ryden," she whispered. "Never has there been a Baratheon boy born with gold hair, never. But Lannister boys are."

Ryden knew exactly what she was saying. He knew exactly what she was now accusing, or what she had barely begun to understand. His eyes widened at the gravity of her words, his hands gripped hers with the same urgency. If the queen found out about Florentine's new involvement, she could have his fox child executed. If Robert would allow it that is. . .

"Florentine. . ." he said hoarsely, "What have you done?"

BANG! BANG!

They both whipped their heads round to face her chamber doors. The banging was loud and obtrusive in an irritating manor. They stayed still and listened as the banging persisted after a beat. Ryden didn't say anything as Floentine scowled and stood up. She strode to the doors and gently grabbed one handle of the right one. It swung inward in the middle of anther bang.

The man outside her door had his fist half way to her door. As soon as the torch light from the hallway spilled across her body and face, the Hound looked lost, confused even. She quickly observed him and found he was indeed taller than her. He was older, his hair scraggly and filthy, his armor dark and intimidating. But it was his face that she saw, badly burned and scarred, hidden by his hair.

"Yes?" She asked. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You're a fucking spy," he whispered harshly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and slipped outside the door, not the least bit frightened by him. Her door shut, leaving Measter Ryden to wait. Her arms were crossed as she came out and shut the door. She leaned back against it as she looked up at him.

"You don't know what you're say-"

"I know exactly what I'm saying. I followed you just now from the queen's rooms," he growled, pointing one dirty finger at her.

She slapped him. A solid smack to the face. He reacted quickly, purely from instinct, and grabbed both her wrists in his strong grip. She squeaked in the sudden force and he shoved her into a corner tucked behind the pillar standing by her door. Her skin was bruised as he crushed them against the wall, spread out to either side of her. She scowled back at his vivid grey glare.

"You wayward cunt!" She said heatedly. "Let me go! You can't do this to me!"

"You're a bastard, none of the guards will care."

"I'll call my shields. . ."

She tried to heave her body forward and then thrashed around.

"Call them!" He said in a harsh voice. "Give me an excuse to kill some outcast cock fighter."

"They could best you, you bloody prick!"

"Stop fighting me woman," he pressed her harder against the wall, flushing his armored body against hers. "Your damn noise will draw attention."

She squirmed when his plated armor dug into her. A grimace crossed her face and she snapped her attention to his eyes. "You holding me like this wont draw attention." She smirked.

He didn't let her go but lessened his holding instead. He readjusted his stance and couldn't help but notice her exposed cleavage. Her rounded breasts teased his sight, one shoulder of her robe slipping dangerously. His eyes dragged back to hers and he saw the taunt in her look, he suddenly felt frustration. She simply watched him react to her rebellion.

"They call you the Hound," she said. Thinking quick, she saw his manly urges make the slightest of appearances. It was enough for her to grab it, and use it.

"They call you the Fox."

"This is true." She was quiet. ". . .Why did you come here?"

"I know you were spying on her, sneaking around the place. I saw you."

She didn't look scared, she looked compliant. "No one has ever said that before."

He leaned closer. "You should be scared."

"Oh should I?"

Her coy game was a surprise, one he didn't think to waste.

"Yes."

She grinned, "You're hurting my wrists Hound."

He pressed closer, his face an inch from hers. "I'm glad that it fucking hurts."

She suddenly leaned forward and aggressively pressed her lips against his, a desperate idea of distraction. He was shocked but some force compelled him to grabbed her shoulders and kiss her with a furious passion. Her tongue wove in and out of his mouth, toying with his. She thought he tasted like deep red wine. His rough hands held her shoulders, his thumbs digging into her tender flesh. Her delicate hands wound around his forearms and she clung to his armor plates.

His knee rode up to nudge between her legs, pushing against the fabric of her robe and hitting a scared place. She gasped and closed her eyes, leaning into her tormentor. His mouth moved to her neck and sucked hard at the skin, she groaned in a silent plea for him to be gentle. His hand moved the already drooping sleeve down and it dropped low, nearly exposing her chest. His knee nudged harder and she moaned louder, and then it came.

One word that broke his spell, one word that foretold their entire futures. She didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, the way it came out sensual and low. Almost with a need that both of them wanted desperately to voice, but came out in one word.

"Hound. . ."

It was too loud for his taste. He clapped a hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes tight. He leaned in close and she slowly opened them. His stone grey eyes stared deep into her soul, she could feel his mind probing around in her innocence. His face changed then, flashed to something new; patience. He stayed like that, watching her face, watching her watching him. Deciding what to do next and if it was worth it.

He looked down at her half exposed chest, and back up to her eyes. He took a lock of hair and let fall through his fingers. He looked back to her violet eyes.

"Sandor," he said,

Before she could react he left her. The warmth of his close contact leaving with him, cold air rushing to take his place. She had been pushed up on her toes and stumbled as she fell to the floor. She grabbed her drooping sleeve and held it tight to her body. She watched him walk away, the clink of his metal fading away with him. She was furious at that lunatic. That insolent swine. She vowed to have her revenge, yes it would be glorious.

Ryden sat up in his chair when the door opened again. His ward shut it and then leaned against it and sagged slightly to the floor. In concern, he shot up and darted over to her, surprisingly fast in his age. He held her shoulders and she winced. He shook his head and hurried her to sit on her bed. He left in the dark and a candle was struck. It was bright as he came back to her and gently moved her sleeve down. Dark colored circles lined her skin in the span of a man's hand.

His eyebrows came together as he looked at her. "Who came to the door Floren?"

She fixed her robe and pulled down her bed covers. Silently, she settled in for the night and laid on her back. She turned on her side facing Ryden, her adoptive father, caregiver, confident, she sighed and shook her head.

"Sandor Clegane, the Hound."