Chapter One: The King's New Hand

A/N: So this is attempt #3 to post this story, and with the show's final season premiering, what better time to post? The story centres around Medea Baratheon and her children, as well as the Martell twins. Please let us know what you think, feedback is always appreciated.


Medea Baratheon sauntered into the King's rooms unannounced, something only Robert's sister could get away with. She knew that her older brother had imposed a self-exile upon himself, hiding away in his rooms since the day Jon Arryn had died. She could not say she blamed him – Robert had been very close with the old man. However, there were things that needed doing, and it fell to Medea to remind the King of his responsibilities.

"What do you want?" Robert growled as his younger sister closed the heavy door behind her.

"To see my eldest brother." She raised her eyebrows coolly. "I heard about Lord Arryn."

"What of it?" Robert asked, somewhat suspiciously. His sister was no fool – Medea was very involved in political intrigue, although she did not have as many spies as his wife Cersei. Nonetheless, the young Baratheon woman was shrewd and intelligent. In some ways, she was quite a lot like their brother Stannis, but less…well, dry.

"So, you will be needing a new Hand." Medea walked over to Robert's desk, picking up the pitcher and pouring herself some red wine. She often found it bitter, but it did help her think and articulate herself in stressful situations, she found.

"I know who I want for my new Hand."

"As do I." Medea spun to face Robert, leaning against the desk and taking a sip from the goblet. "Eddard Stark."

The man had been Robert's closest and most trusted friend since their youth. It had been nine years since they had last seen Ned – Medea had been but a girl then, sixteen years old and pregnant with her second child. It had been difficult, that pregnancy, due to the loss of her husband during the Greyjoy rebellion. Clifford Swann had been seven years older than his little wife, but they had come to love each other deeply, and his loss had impacted her greatly.

Fortunately, she had her two children to ease the burden. Valko, her eldest and Clifford's heir. He had been a wedding night babe, she was almost certain, born soon after she had turned fourteen. Felicia was her youngest, two years younger than Valko and conceived just a few months before the Greyjoy rebellion.

Medea could not complain – she had been well cared for after her husband's death. Old Gulian Swann was a loyal ally to Robert, which was why his eldest son had married the King's only sister. He had made sure she was welcome at Stonehelm, but Medea had other plans. She had only been thirteen when she had married, and missed her brothers dearly. So she returned to King's Landing with her two children, visiting Stonehelm often but remaining with Robert and his household.

"Bring me some," Robert commanded, shaking Medea from her reverie. He never asked anymore, simply demanded. She supposed that was what happened when you became King, although she had been only a child when he had, so she did not remember much what he was like before that. Stannis had always been stiff and formal. Renly, her baby brother and the closest to her in age, was more playful in nature.

"I didn't hear the 'p' word."

Robert frowned. "What 'p' word, woman?"

"Please." She sipped her wine. "The one you never use anymore."

"Bring me the damned wine," Robert snapped, clearly in no mood for her dry humour. Medea rolled her eyes and poured him some, walking over and shoving the goblet at him.

"When are we going north?"

"So you wish to come?" Her brother asked, seeming surprised. Medea could not blame him – the North had never appealed to her in the past.

"Of course. Valko and Felicia would be thrilled. He has been following you around, hasn't he?"

"He is growing fast." Robert sounded quite proud – but that was no surprise to Medea. The boy resembled him more closely than even Robert's own son, Joffrey.

"Of course. He will be twelve soon enough."

Robert nodded thoughtfully. "Old enough to learn to fight."

"He is still a boy," Medea protested, fiercely protective of her children. She did not want to admit that her little boy was growing up, and that in a few short years, he would be a man. The thought frightened her, that one day Valko and Felicia would not need her anymore.

"You cannot keep him sheltered forever, Medea." Robert's voice was stern. "He must learn to fight."

"He will." Medea sighed heavily. "He is already learning how to handle a sword. But I don't want to pit him against others, certainly not Joffrey."

Joffrey was a good few years older than Valko, and there was no child Medea despised more. He was a horrible bully, and delighted in tormenting others such as his younger brother Tommen. Valko was more resistant to such bullying – he had brawled with Joffrey several times in the past.

"How soon are we leaving?" Medea inquired, focusing her mind on the task at hand. Winterfell would be bitterly cold, but a journey would be welcome. She thought that perhaps the younger of Ned's daughters was a similar age to Valko, but she brushed the thought away. It was far too soon to be thinking of her son's own marriage and – seven hells – potential grandchildren. She was twenty-five years old, dammit.

"Few days," Robert stated, slurring slightly due to the wine. "Prepare yourself."


Alaric Martell stretched out in the large bed as he felt the warmth of the sun on his bare chest. He let out a loud yawn as he rolled about, raking a hand through his sleep tousled hair. He cracked open one eye to see that the woman sharing his bed, although he seemed to recall he was sharing her bed, was awake and reading. He grinned up at her as he rolled onto his stomach, staring at her.

"So. Winterfell." It was something he had been wanting to discuss for a few days now, having heard about it around court. Medea nodded, placing her book down. Alaric had been sleeping with her for a few years now, and the two had grown close. Their relationship had never progressed from the bed, but they were dear friends.

"Yes, Robert wants to make Eddard his new Hand."

"I shall accompany you." He grinned at her as he stifled another yawn.

Medea raised an eyebrow at his statement. "Oh really?"

"I spoke to my father regarding it already." Alaric informed her. He had a feeling she would be going when he first heard about it, and couldn't help but sate his curiosity of the North by joining her.

"Won't it be too cold for you?" She teased him, tracing a finger down his chest.

He slung an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. "I'll have you to warm my bed."

"Is that so?" She looked down at him, straddling his lap as he rested his hands on his hips.

"But of course. Alysanne will most likely follow as well." Alaric chuckled. Where he went his twin went. They had always been like that and he wasn't expecting that to change.

"Robert will probably try and have me marry someone there." Medea let out a heavy sigh as she rolled her eyes. Robert had been trying to get her to remarry for the past few years, but she wasn't the least bit interested in any of the men he had suggested. She knew she was lucky she had a say at all, after all he could have refused to take her in and left her in Stonehelm, but he didn't. "I don't want to remarry."

"You will have to eventually." Alaric sat up, reaching over the side of the bed to grab his pants as he began to dress himself and start his day. He glanced at her as she made a disgruntled noise, clearly not pleased with the idea. "Well, should something happen to your brothers..."

"Yes, but I've already done my duty by marrying and having children. I don't see why I'd need to do it again." She argued, shifting so that she was sitting behind him as he began to lace up his boots. "I could marry you."

Alaric glanced over his shoulder at her. "I would love that."

"Yet your father won't allow it." She reminded him. They'd had the discussion previously. It would be a smart match, but Medea had already been married and already had children, which meant Oberyn had not agreed with the idea of his only son and heir wedding an older woman. "Valko has been asking for more lessons, you know."

"I can teach him some more." Alaric smiled, raking a hand through his hair. He had taken it upon himself to help train Valko, and the boy had grown fond of their training sessions.

"He likes you a lot." She informed him, draping her arms over his shoulders.

Alaric chuckled. "I'm a good brother figure."

"It's nice for him to have a man around who doesn't drink heavily and boast about all the tits he's grabbed recently." She sighed, resting her head on Alaric's shoulder. She did care for her brother, but she didn't want her son to turn out that way.


"Stop it, Valko! Leave me alone!"

Nine-year-old Felicia Swann sprinted away from her older brother, hiding under a table. Sometimes, she couldn't believe how silly he was. He was almost twice her size, and still chased her around the place. She wasn't interested in being chased. She was interested in trying on pretty dresses and getting her hair done.

"Get out from under the table," Valko commanded, as if being two years older and a boy meant that she had to listen to him. "It's unladylike."

"You chasing me is unmanlylike," Felicia retorted.

"What are you two doing?"

Both children stopped what they were doing to see their mother standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. Valko sensed that they were about to get into trouble, and immediately pointed an accusing finger at his hiding sibling.

"Felicia won't get out from under the table."

Medea raised her eyebrows. "Why were you chasing her?"

"She was pulling my hair."

"Oh, Valko, don't be absurd." Medea rolled her eyes. "Felicia, come out. I have news."

Felicia crawled out from under the table, suddenly excited. She wondered what their mother had come to tell them. Perhaps there was going to be a celebration and Felicia would have a brand-new dress to wear. Better yet, perhaps her uncle Balon was coming to King's Landing. She did so enjoy his visits.

"We are accompanying your uncle, his Grace, to Winterfell," Medea announced.

"The North?" Felicia was somewhat disappointed, wrinkling her nose. "Isn't it very cold there?"

"I'm not afraid of the cold." Valko puffed out his chest, making Felicia scoff. Her brother seemed to think he wasn't afraid of anything.

"Valko, I doubt anyone is afraid of the cold, dear," Medea responded.

"Some people are," Valko replied defensively.

"I heard there are direwolves there," Felicia stated, her eyes widening. She wondered what it would be like to see a real direwolf. The North was a savage and frightening place. That was what Uncle Renly often said.

"That's not true." Medea shook her head. "Direwolves are almost extinct."

Valko looked thrilled. "Do you think we'll see one?"

"Maybe one will eat you," Felicia said, hopeful.

Valko drew himself up to full height. "I'd be too fast for it."

"You wish," she responded.

"Both of you, behave," Medea said, making both of them fall silent. "Unless you would rather stay here."

"Yes, Mother," Valko said obediently, causing Medea to smile.

"Good boy."

"I'm excited, Mother," Felicia admitted. Perhaps there would be someone handsome in the north that she could marry. She was far too young to marry yet, but their mother had only been a few years older than Valko when she had married their father. Felicia hadn't bled yet, but she would in a few years. She hoped to marry someone as valiant and kind as her father had apparently been, not someone loathsome like her cousin Joffrey.

"How cold will it be?" Valko asked.

"You'll need extra furs," Medea stated, glancing between the two of them with raised eyebrows. "Clean yourselves up for dinner."

"What's for dinner?" Valko inquired, which didn't surprise Felicia in the least. He was always thinking about his stomach.

"Whatever the cook makes you," Medea said, noting Valko's yawn, "And then bed."


Alysanne Martell tugged her brother back into the chair as he moved around impatiently, attempting to get up. She tugged on his hair as she attacked it with the scissors, attempting to neaten the mess it had become over the past few weeks they had been venturing North. She had reluctantly accompanied her twin when he'd declared that he was heading to Winterfell. They had been inseparable since childhood, the only legitimate children of Oberyn Martell and his wife – a marriage that had not lasted very long at all.

"It's getting too long again."

"It's fine." Alaric groaned, wincing as she tugged on his hair. "If you cut it too short, Medea can't pull it."

"I don't care if she can pull it or not." Alysanne snapped at him, putting the scissors down as she finished with his hair. There were some things she didn't need to hear, and what Alaric did with his lover was certainly one of them.

"But I do." He scowled, jumping and rubbing the back of his head as he felt her slap it hard. He glared at her as she walked past, washing her hands. "Ouch!"

"Child." She rolled her eyes, pouring herself a glass of water before glancing out of the window. She wanted nothing more than to return home, but she was to stay with Alaric at Oberyn's request to make sure he behaved. Unfortunately, Alaric was certainly his father's son.

"I am not." He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. They were both twenty years old and so he despised the insinuation that he was anything but a grown man. Alysanne rolled her eyes, sipping her drink as she stared out through the tent flap to the plains beyond. Neither of the twins had ever been this far north before, and she felt a slight sense of excitement.

"Winterfell will be interesting."

"And cold." Alaric reminded her. He wasn't looking forward to the cold. Dorne was warm even in comparison to King's Landing, and Winterfell was far colder than both. However, as Oberyn had been all too keen to travel the Free Cities in his youth, so the twins were eager to explore more of Westeros.

"I am sure we will survive." She laughed, walking over to him and ruffling his hair.

Alaric flicked his hair dramatically out of his eyes, winking at her. "I'd hope so. I'm far too pretty to die there."


Medea strode into the royal tent, unsurprised to find Robert drinking heavily – one of the few habits that he and Cersei shared. She had the feeling that she knew what this discussion was going to be about, and she was not looking forward to it. She sat down across from her older brother, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"We need to talk about you remarrying." Robert set his cup down with a loud clang. "I am going to speak to Ned about you marrying Robb."

Medea got to her feet almost as quickly as she'd sat down. "The boy is seventeen."

"It would be a decent match," Robert insisted as Medea paced back and forth. She knew there was a reason her brother had summoned her, and she was proven right. Medea was immediately disapproving, aware of the fact that Robb was a good eight years younger than her.

"He is a child," she said dismissively.

"It would join our families," Robert said, although Medea did not honestly think the match would be a welcome one to the Starks.

"Ned would not want his eldest son to marry a woman who has already had a son by another man."

"It is worth trying." Robert crossed his arms over his chest. "You need to marry."

They had had this discussion several times over the past few years. Robert had allowed Medea a time to grieve for the loss of her husband, but soon after she had turned eighteen, he had started suggesting potential new husbands for her – none of which had impressed her in the slightest.

"No, I don't. I have two children." Medea planted her hands on her hips. "Robb would not have me."

"Then what would you have me do?" Robert asked, his voice growing louder and his eyes narrowing.

Medea threw up her arms. "Not try and use me as a bargaining chip, Robert."

"What other use are you to me?" Robert asked, making her frown. She had obediently married Clifford Swann without question when she had been thirteen, and produced two children for him in the three years of their marriage. She did not like Robert's implication that her only use was to bear more children.

"Don't you speak to me like that," she snapped. "I'm not an object."

Robert stared her down. "You refuse to marry."

Medea lifted her chin. "My son will be lord of Stonehelm one day. I am not breeding stock. I am a princess."

"Which is why I will find you another husband," Robert stated, causing his younger sister to roll her eyes. She did not see why it was so important, considering the fact she had done what any woman was meant to and produced a son and heir for her late husband.

"Robert, surely there must be someone you're considering who is closer to my age," Medea pleaded, although she knew he had gone through many suggestions of men close to her age. She had already rejected men such as Edmure Tully. "Seven hells, the boy is green as grass."

"I will hear no more of this," Robert grumbled, and she knew that the discussion was at an end for now. Medea scowled and stormed out, praying to the Seven that Ned would see sense and reject this match.


"Stop pacing." Alaric ordered Medea through a mouthful of bread. He had been watching her pace back and forth for what felt like hours and it was starting to annoy him. He understood that she was not pleased about her latest conversation with her eldest brother, but he'd rather hoped she'd just eat in peace with him.

"Robert wants me to marry Ned's eldest son. I knew something like this would happen." Medea sighed heavily, sitting down beside him. Alaric rolled his eyes. The idea of her remarrying wasn't a new one, and he was beginning to grow tired of her constant complaining about it. It was no secret that Robert was seeking a new match for his only sister.

"He has been wanting you to remarry for a while."

"I know. But to a boy of seventeen?" She threw her hands up in the air, apparently finding it almost unbelievable that Robert wanted to marry her off to someone so young. Alaric knew that sometimes she even teased about the five-year age difference between the two of them.

"You are still young and able to have children." He reminded her, knowing that was the main reason that Robert was trying so hard. Medea rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair and sipping at her wine.

"Oh, trust me. I know."

"Sit down and relax." Alaric ordered, picking away at his food still.

Medea smirked at him, downing the rest of her wine. "You can help with that."

"Now? I'm eating." He gestured to the plate in front of him. "I like to enjoy my food."

"I could give you something else to enjoy." She grinned at him suggestively, sighing dramatically when he shook his head at her, continuing to pick away at his food. "Perhaps Robert should have suggested Felicia. It's the same fucking age difference."

"Medea. It could be worse." Alaric argued with her, pushing his plate away from himself. "It could be some old man."

She glanced at him as she poured her more wine, grabbing a glass for himself. "Thank you."

"Wine makes everything better." He winked at her, sipping at his glass. He would try and cheer her up like always, but he didn't know how easy that was going to be.

"Most things." She murmured in reply before sipping at the dry liquid.


"Alaric!" Valko exclaimed as he noticed Alaric strolling through the camp. He had been looking for him all morning, keen to throw some spears. Alaric glanced over his shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow at the boy's enthusiasm.

"Valko."

"Can we throw spears?" Valko questioned as he fell into step beside Alaric. The Dornishman nodded, he had nothing better to do as he refused to get involved in the politics of the capital.

"Alright."

"I want a full sized one." Valko announced as they began to head towards the guards' tent, who'd likely have some weapons to spare. He was always excited to spend time with Alaric, especially as many of the people in King's Landing were either younger or older than him and seemed to have no time to entertain him.

"I do not think you would be strong enough." Alaric told him as they reached the tent, pausing outside for a moment. Valko frowned as he turned to face him. He was ready for a full sized one in his opinion, however in Alaric's, the kid always took on more than he could handle.

"I'm almost a man grown, I'm eleven!"

Alaric shook his head, chuckling. "I could not lift one at your age."

Valko sighed heavily, recognising that he had lost the argument. It took him only a moment before his excitement was back and he was bounding into the tent. He and Alaric grabbed their weapons, with a curt nod from one of the men inside, before heading outside.

Valko concentrated on his stance before hurling one of the spears at the target. Alaric watched him as he set about hurling the other couple of spears at the other targets before walking over and collecting them. Alaric moved behind him, correcting his grip as he moved to throw another. As he stepped back, Valko let the spear go, hitting just off centre of the target.

"Good."

"I'm getting better." Valko beamed up at him, his grin wide enough to split his face in two.

"You certainly are.' Alaric smiled, ruffling his hair before glancing around. He had expected Medea to be roaming about like she always was, ensuring her children were kept in check. "Where's your mother?"

"Talking with Uncle Robert." Valko answered, frowning at the question. "Why? Are you gonna marry her?"

Alaric shook his head. Robert and Oberyn would never have allowed such a marriage, and both he and Medea were aware of it. It didn't bother them as they both enjoyed each other's sexual company.

"No. We are friends."

"Why not?" Valko clearly thought them to be a good match. "Friends can marry. Mother says I might in a few years."

"You will." Alaric assured him, knowing that in Valko's position he very much needed to marry.

"I don't even like girls that much." Valko groaned, a scowl forming on his face. He hated the idea of getting married, but Alaric knew his mind would change on the matter in time.