Emma Stormcrest hated King's Landing with a passion. The only reason she was here to begin with was to represent House Stormcrest at the Hand's Tourney. Emma still didn't understand why her father couldn't have sent Rickard, her younger brother. Sure, he was younger than her by three hours, but he was still the rightful heir of House Stormcrest. Emma was a bastard, born from one of her father's many love affairs. The only difference between her and his other bastards was that he had loved her mother. He had taken Emma into his care after her mother had died and made sure that she lived a comfortable life. A fact that her stepmother hated. Emma was a constant reminder of her father's previous affairs and the fact that Emma was her father's favorite child didn't help.
Emma couldn't really complain too much about her life though. Her father had brought her up as a fighter, something that wasn't very common amongst the ladies of Westeros, and yet another reason her stepmother despised her. Emma could only assume that if she had been a proper young lady maybe their relationship could be different, but now she would never know.
The air in King's Landing was nothing like that of her hometown of Oceanmire, the small city outside of Storm's End. There the air was fresh, with the slight smell of salt from the sea. Here, however, the air smelled of pig shit and sweaty hookers. How anyone could live in a sty like this was beyond her.
Emma was pulled from her own thoughts when her carriage came to a sudden stop. They had finally arrived at the Red Keep, home to the royal family. Emma exited the carriage and immediately noticed the looks some of the women mingling outside were giving her. Emma hated wearing the pretty dresses that other court women wore. She usually opted for knight's armor or the clothing her brother wore. Today she wore the armor knowing that she needed to make a good impression. She was here to represent her family and needed the look her best.
Her sea blue cape swirled around her ankles and her sword clanked against her left hip as she walked. Emma gripped the pommel as she strut towards the throne room. She was particularly fond of the pommel she had chosen for it had an aquamarine sea stone that she herself had found on the beach. Her blacksmith had included it in the valryian steel sword that her uncle had gifted her for her seventeenth name day.
"Lady Emma," a voice announced behind her. Emma was halfway to the throne room and frowned at the sudden interruption. She turned and took in the figure of her father's good friend Eddard Stark. For a man old enough to be her father he was still fairly attractive.
"Ned!" Emma smiled and approached the older man. Emma offered her hand, but Ned ignored it and brought her into a tight hug. It felt so good to see a familiar face in the place she hated the most. She remembered first meeting Ned when he had been returning to Winterfell after defeating the Mad King. Emma had been born only a few years before Robert's Rebellion and was about five when the victors returned. Eddard Stark had been an imposing figure then and she was pleased to see that that hadn't changed much over the years.
"What are you doing here?" Ned asked once they parted. He grabbed her left hand and linked their arms together as they walked.
"Father was too ill to travel and Rickard is looking over our lands for him, so they decided to send me for the tourney," Emma explained. Ned looked at his feet, a frown on his face. He and Lord Stormcrest were very close, it must have hurt him to hear that his friend was ill.
"May I congratulate you on your new title?" Emma asked, gesturing towards his new pin. Ned glanced down at the bronze hand on his chest and nodded his head almost solemnly. Emma would have commented on this had they not arrived at the throne room. The doors opened almost magically and both Emma and Ned walked in to greet the King. Emma took a moment to appreciate the throne room for the first time. She herself had never seen it, but her father and brother described it well enough. The Targaryen red walls with golden pillars, the seven-pointed star in front of the stained-glass window, and the giant throne made of hundreds of melted swords.
"Your Grace," Ned announced and bowed before the throne. Everyone turned to Emma to see how she reacted. The young woman knew that everyone was aware of who she was, her sea blue cape with the storm cloud and lightning bolt was a dead giveaway. Another reason Emma hated King's Landing: the insatiable need for gossip and scandal.
"Cousin," Emma finally announced and placed a hand over her heart. The Stormcrest's had never bowed to a king before, had never sworn any oaths, and Emma was sure that they never would. They respected the title and the sovereign, but they made their own laws and kept their own armies, a smaller country in its own right.
Somehow every Targaryen king and queen had accepted that. When Aegon the Conqueror had arrived in Westeros the Stormcrest's had soundly defeated them. Aegon had been so impressed that he made them their own principality, much like Dorne had been. Now that the Stormcrest's had the Baratheon's as cousins, they still expected not to. They were only cousins by marriage, but cousins nonetheless.
Everyone held their breath and looked to King Robert. A slow smile spread over her cousin's lips and he stood from his throne. He slowly approached her and for a moment he stood silent in front of the young woman. Robert's mouth spread into a giant grin as he opened his arms to her.
"Cousin Emma, good to have you," he exclaimed in that boisterous voice of his. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into an enormous bear hug. He had gotten fatter since she had last seen him so she was practically being smothered into his chest. Emma chuckled and lightly struggled against her cousin's wide berth, almost forgetting how much Robert liked to hug.
"Where is your father?" He asked once he pulled away. Ned shifted uncomfortably beside Emma, something the king missed.
"Unfortunately, he was too sick to travel," Emma explained once more. Robert looked as upset as Ned had, but soon his smile returned. He quickly introduced her to Cersei and Joffrey, his wife and eldest son, whom Emma immediately despised. Then he introduced her to Myrcella and Tommen, his other two children, whom Emma immediately adored.
"They couldn't send a legitimate child? They had to send a bastard?" Cersei snapped rather loudly. Robert turned and shot his wife a look that immediately shut her up. Emma had been certain that her opinion of Cersei couldn't get any lower, but she was wrong. Having been around people of noble birth all of her life Emma was used to the title of bastard, but every once in a while, it still stung to hear that she was looked down upon.
"This tourney is in honor of Ned, our new Hand to the King, and I'm sure he doesn't mind Lady Emma's presence," Robert snapped.
"Not at all, Your Grace," Ned piped up helpfully. The look that passed over the queen's face was full of contempt and disgust. It was quite obvious that there was some tension surround the queen and the Hand. An uncomfortable silence immediately fell over the hall and no one dared to speak. Finally, Prince Joffrey broke the silence.
"Why are you dressed this way?" Joffrey asked rather rudely as Robert returned to his throne. Emma smirked and looked down at her clothing. She had been born not too far from Storm's End and there the winds were fierce and the nights cold; most of the ladies dressed the same as the men, finding dresses too drafty and cold.
"I've never been one for fancy dresses," she explained, her smile growing at the sneer that spread across the prince's face. It was at that moment when Emma felt someone's gaze on her. She looked to the right of the Iron Throne and saw a giant of a man staring at her, make that two giant men.
The first was a behemoth with close cut black hair and eyes as black as coals. He had a monster of a broadsword strapped across his back and a cape of yellow and black across his shoulders. The sigil of three dogs was carved into the right shoulder plate of his armor, but Emma couldn't place what house it was from. The man was about three feet taller than herself, which made him extremely large considering Emma was tall for a woman. His eyes were the scariest part about him though. Void of any kind of emotion, just pitch-black pools of nothingness.
The other man held more of Emma's interest. The left side of his face appeared almost melted, a serious burn that must had been hell to receive. His left eyebrow was missing and the hair on that side of his skull was sparse. His skin drooped slightly over his eye and his left ear was almost completely missing, but other than that Emma saw no problem with his face. He would've been more handsome without the scar, but she still saw the man beneath and found him rather attractive. His hair was light brown, reaching just below his chin and he had a mustache and beard that was a slightly darker color. His eyes were a sweet chocolate brown that looked quite sad, like those of a puppy. He was almost as tall as the other man, at least a foot and a half taller than Emma. A sigil reminiscent of a dog was on his armor and it was unlike any sigil Emma had ever seen. Certainly not one from any of the great houses.
"Does the Hound frighten you girl?" Cersei asked as she noticed Emma staring. The man with the scarred face shifted uncomfortably and swung his gaze away from her. Emma concluded that he must be the Hound.
"I don't frighten easily Your Grace," Emma replied with a smirk. The Hound glanced back up at her and something foreign flickered in his eyes. Emma threw him a small smile but he did not return it, though that didn't surprise Emma. He seemed like the hardened warrior type, not one for emotions or kindness.
"He's my dog, my hired sword," Joffrey explained proudly. Emma's eyes snapped back to the little prince and a look of cold fury crossed her delicate features.
"Does any man deserve the title of 'dog'?" She snapped back. This made Robert laugh, but he was soon quieted when Cersei shot him a discouraging look.
"What about the Mountain?" Joffrey asked, his voice hitting an almost whining pitch. This time the man with the black eyes approached Emma and didn't stop until he was standing directly in front of her. He was much taller than she had originally thought and from this proximity she noticed that his eyes held a combination of violence, hate, and unsurprisingly a large amount of lust.
Emma knew of the effect her body had on men and was used to seeing that look in their eyes. The Gods had granted her with an excellent woman's body, including ample breasts, a small waist, and a plump arse, all of which she was extremely proud to show off. She also didn't fail to notice the way The Hound's hand went to the pommel of his own sword. Something in the gesture made Emma smile appreciatively. The Mountain noticed this smile and took another step towards her, but she still didn't back down. She forced her eyes back to the man in front of her and couldn't help the small flash of panic that crossed her features, luckily the Mountain didn't notice that. He was a much more terrifying figure up close.
"Like I said, Your Highness, I don't scare easily," she repeated, this time with a little more venom in her voice. The extra bitterness in her tone was to overcompensate for her tiny amount of fear. Her eyes had never left the Mountain's and she was sure that her act of defiance had made her more attractive in his eyes. Men like him liked feisty girls, she knew that from personal experience.
The Mountain growled deep in his chest and stormed away. Emma turned her head to watch him leave, an amused little smirk on her face. She turned back to face Joffrey and was pleased to see how flustered he looked.
"Well, we are pleased to have you here Lady Emma. Will any of your men be competing tomorrow in the tourney?" Robert asked curiously. Emma smiled a little wider, taking great pleasure in talking about her accomplished men.
"I have six knights competing, two swordsmen, an archer, and three jousters," she explained. Robert nodded, impressed, but Emma once again found her attention drifting to the Hound. His eyes were glued to her and Emma shifted her body slightly so that he got a good long look at her profile. She knew for a fact that her armor cut a nice figure on her, many of the Stormcrest men had told her so.
"Well, you must be exhausted after your journey. Ned will show you to your rooms," Robert smiled again and waved her off.
"I look forward to my visit cousin," she said with a small tilt of her head. Ned approached her and she followed after him, but not before sending the Hound one more curious look. This would be a very interesting visit indeed.
