Chapter 2
Betrayals and Plots
...
Vyolet closed her eyes as she sighed, soaking on the hot water. Her handmaid had just clean her hair out of ale and flour and let her mistress to finish her bath. The girl was still confused by Ned Stark odd behavior. She was sure he didn't put that face because she was in covered in flour, so why then?
The girl hurried to get dried and put on a clean dress. There was to be a joust in just a couple of hours and she was already late to catch Sansa or Arya breaking fast.
Her handmaid helped her dress, drying her hair as much as she could, and then Vyolet rushed to the joust. As she sat next to Sansa at her insistence, she avoided Joffrey's satisfied smirk. The jerk, Vyolet fumed.
After a few moments Ned Stark joined them, sitting on the other side of Sansa. Vyolet could swore lord Stark was glancing at her.
"Where's Arya?" Stark asked his daughter.
"At her dancing lessons," Sansa replied derisively.
Then, the horn was rung and a knight in a literally shining armor appear on one side of the field. It was ser Loras Tyrell.
"The Knight of the Flowers," said Sansa love-struck and Vyolet repressed a smile. She couldn't blame Sansa. Ser Loras was really handsome. He looked like an actual prince charming. Vyolet herself had had a big crush on him a year ago or so. That was it, until she learned he didn't like women. But Vyolet still enjoyed his company. He was funny, charming and kind.
Ser Loras rode to where they were, holding a red rose and handed it to Sansa.
"Thank you, Ser Loras," Sansa replied sweetly.
Vyolet caught his eye and rose an eyebrow. Loras gave her a sly smile and rode to face the king.
He started the joust and both Loras and the Mountain rode to the end of the field.
"Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," Sansa asked her father desperately. "I can't watch."
"He's going to die," Sansa said worriedly.
"Ser Loras rides well," her father consoled him.
Vyolet nodded.
"He's one of the best jousters in the seven kingdoms," Vyolet assured her, but she was a bit worried herself. The Mountain was a brute and sadistic man, everybody knew that.
The joust started. Ser Loras and the Mountain charged at each other. But Loras' spade hit the Mountain shield, destroying it and knocking him off his horse.
Prince Renly stood up cheering loudly.
"See, everything's fine," Vyolet reassured Sansa.
"He's the best," Sansa smiled, watching Loras.
Vyolet nodded.
"Loras knew his mare was in heat," Baelish told the Starks and Vyolet, leaning to them with a smile. "Quite crafty, really."
"Ser Loras would never do that," Sansa declared upset. "There's no honor in tricks."
"No honor and quite a bit of gold," Baelish replied slyly.
The Mountain stood up grabbing his horse. He was furious.
"Sword!"He yelled and his squire quickly broguht it, as Loras was still riding around, bowing at the cheers and the king.
But the happy excitment was cut short by the Mountain, suddenly decapitating his horse. The crowd gasped and more when he stomped to an unaware Loras.
"Loras!" Vyolet called him and as the man turned, the Mountain knocked him down his horse with a struck.
The Mountain didn't hold back, attacking Loras as he was down, protecting himself with his shield.
The Hound quickly drew his sword and intervened just as Loras shield broke in two.
"Leave him be!" The Hound said as he started fighting his brother, Loras quickly moving out of the way.
Both men fought brutally. If they had been another, they would have already lost their head.
"Stop this madness in the name of your king!" King Robert shouting, standing up.
The Hound fell to his knee immediately while avoiding a swing to his head.
The Mountain, however, glared at Robert, throwing his sword to the ground and stomping away.
"Let him go!" Robert said the guards.
Loras took off his helmet and approached the Hound who had just stood up.
"I owe you my life, ser," he told the Hound gratefully.
"I'm not ser," the Hound replied, gruffly, but Loras grabbed his hand and held in the air. The crowd started to cheer. Vyolet clapped as well, smiling at Loras, but noticing the Hound's overwhelmed face. He looked almost shy, the girl thought, fascinated.
Everyone feared the Clegane brothers, but maybe there was a bit more to Sandor. Vyolet clapped louder, smiling. Sandor did deserve the cheers.
Vyolet found Arya as she was finishing her lessons with Syrio Forel. The man was gone already, but Arya kept practicing her swings.
"I yield," Vyolet told her with a smile, raising her hands in the air.
Arya turned and smiled.
"I told Syrio you would help me practice," she told Vyolet excitedly.
Vyolet smiled.
"And what did he say?"
"That that would be like the blind dancing with the blind," Arya replied, not wanting to offend her but Vyolet just laughed.
"I imagined the first sword of Braavos saying that about any student of someone else," Vyolet smiled.
"So you would help me?" Arya asked excitedly.
"Right now?" Vyolet frowned, but Arya had already gone to fetch a second wood sword.
Vyolet took it and smiled. Before starting she went to a niche in the wall and took off her rings and headpiece carefully. Then, she pulled a ribbon out of her pocket and tied her hair in a ponytail.
"Alright," told Arya grabbing the sword.
Arya took her position but frowned.
"Don't you want to change? You won't be able to move in your dress."
"I learn to fight in my dresses," Vyolet replied, raising an eyebrow. "My master once told me, 'if you need to defend yourself you'll be wearing a dress, or your enemy would allow you change into practicing breeches?'"
Arya frowned.
"Isn't it more difficult?"
Vyolet nodded, laughing.
"And more impractical too, but that's women's problems for you in a nutshell."
Arya couldn't smile back.
"Come on!" Vyolet nodded at Arya so she could get in place. "Ready?"
Both girls raised their swords and began practicing.
Arya was genuinely impressed with Vyolet now. She was so good. Not as Syrio, of course, but she couldn't understand how she could move so fast and with a bloody dress. And a dress whose skirts were too loose and too twirly.
Vyolet didn't let Arya win, but didn't come after her full force, and gave her tips while they fought. After and hour or so, both girls were exhausted. Vyolet sat with Arya on the floor as they drank water and took deep breaths.
"You're actually good!" Arya told her, excitedly.
"Thank you," Vyolet replied sarcastically. "Though I'll ignore the surprised tone."
Arya laughed.
"You're getting good too," Vyolet continued, fanning herself.
"You defeated me every time!" Arya shook her head, a bit disappointed.
"You can't expect to be good on the first try," Vyolet told her kindly. "But as long as you work hard, you'll notice the difference."
Arya nodded and then she stood up, walking to the door.
"Where are you going now, Arya?" Vyolet asked her.
"I need to catch a cat," Arya shrugged and Vyolet frowned confused.
"What?"
"Syrio's orders. Need to be swift as a cat," the girl replied, happy to keep going.
Vyolet shook her head and smiled.
"Of course you do."
"How is your son, my lord?" Varys asked Ned Stark.
"He'll never walk again," Stark replied, sitting at his desk, writing a letter.
"But his mind is sound?" Varys said while pacing around Stark's office.
"So they say," Stark replied a bit curtly, not wanting to discuss his son's life with 'the spider'.
"A blessing, then."
Ned looked up at this, a bit upset.
"I suffered an early mutilation myself," Varys explained. "Some doors close forever," he said while walking to the office's door and closing it, "while others open in most unexpected places. May I?"
He didn't wait for a reply and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Lord Stark put his pen down and looked at Varys with a mix of distrust and expectancy.
"If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head," Varys explained almost in a whisper. He more than anyone knows, walls could talk in the Red Keep. "And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders. But there are things you must know. You are the King's Hand and the king is a fool-your friend, I know, but a fool-and doomed unless you save him."
"I've been in the capital a month," Ned replied suspiciously. "Why have you waited so long to tell me this?"
"I didn't trust you," Varys shrugged.
"So why do you trust me now?" Ned asked.
"The queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely," Varys gave him a look and a small smile. "There are few men of honor in the capital. You are one of them. I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem."
"What sort of doom does the king face?" Stark asked, this time intrigued.
"The same sort as Jon Arryn," said Varys. "The tears of lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace."
"Who gave it to him?"
"Some dear friend, no doubt," Varys smiled sarcastically. "But which one? There were many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy. All he was he owed to Jon Arryn."
Lord Stark frowned at the implication.
"The squire, Ser Hugh?"
"Pity, what happened to him, just when his life seemed to be going so nicely," Varys commented, sarcastically.
"If Ser Hugh poisoned him who paid Ser Hugh?" Ned started to reason.
"Someone who could afford it," Varys shrugged.
"Jon was a man of peace," Ned told Varys. "He was Hand for seventeen years. Why kill him?"
Varys leaned over the desk and gave Ned a look.
"He started asking questions."
They exchanged a gloom stare, understanding downing in Ned about what really was going on inside this castle.
"And speaking of questions," Varys continued, "there's another thing, my lord. You had noticed the presence of Vyolet Lannister as I imagine."
Ned frowned. What Vyolet Lannister had to do with Jon Arryn?"
"What about Vyolet Lannister?"
"Some little birds have informed me that some people had noticed her reassemble with a past ruler. The mad king." Varys added the last part in a whisper.
Stark shook his head, dismissing the idea.
"I think I saw it too, but it's impossible. The Targaryen had all silver hair."
Varys nodded.
"Yes. The legitimate Targaryen has silver hair," he pointed out. "But I've wondered... Do you know Vyolet's mother, Meralith, served the court of Aerys?"
Ned nodded.
"Some say she was friends with his wife, Rhaella, and the king. Perhaps Aerys took a fancy with her," Varys shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time and Meralith was such a beauty back then... And if a Lannister conceived a child with a Targeryan, well, the child may not have silver hair at all."
Ned looked at Varys considered what he was saying.
"I'm sure you are aware of the hatred King Robert has for Targeryans. If someone would suggest, if they showed a possibility of this being true, the child may be in danger," Varys told him, looking visibly upset.
"Do you want to help her?" Ned asked surprised. "Why?"
"I have no love for the Targaryans, but Vyolet is a sweet girl. I know her since she was little and has a good heart and mind. She doesn't deserve to be butchered. Wouldn't you agree, my lord?"
After Ned talked to Varys, he had a pretty busy day. First of all, they had found Arya, outside the castle. Then he received news about his wife abducting Tyrion Lannister of all people, and now Robert had received some very bad news about Daenerys Targaryan.
"The whore is pregnant!" Robert hollered out of himself. He was drunk and angry. A pretty bad combination on the king.
"You're speaking of murdering a child!" Ned snapped back, but Robert was not having it.
"I warned you this would happen, back in the North. I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both. And that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you?" Robert told his friend angrily. "I want them both dead."
"You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this," Ned warned him.
"Honor?!" Robert shouted. "I've got seven kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms! Do you think honor keeps them in line?! Do you think it's honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear, fear and blood!"
"Then we're no better than the Mad King," Stark declared boldly.
"Careful, Ned. Careful now," Robert warned him.
"You want to assassinate a girl because the spider heard a rumor?" Stark said.
But no matter what Ned argued, Robert just shouted back Daenerys had to die. And Ned wondered if he acted like that, with a girl leaving across the sea, what would his friend do to a girl suspected to be a Targaryen living under his roof?
Ned heard the terrible thoughts of the Council, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't do this cruel thing.
"I followed you into war, twice, without doubts, without second thoughts," Ned reminded Robert. "But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."
"She dies," Robert declared unyielding.
"I will have no part in it."
"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark," Robert said angrily. "You'll do as I command or I'll find me a Hand who will."
It was supposed to place Ned in his place, but he just took off the tiny iron hand and dropped it on the table.
"And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man," he told Robert, disappointment.
The king stood up enraged.
"Out. Out, damn you. I'm done with you!" He shouted as Stark left "Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this? Too proud and honorable? This is a war!"
As Ned crossed the throne room a desperate idea crossed his mind. He would have to take Vyolet with him and his daughters. It was the only way she could be protected from the King and her family.
As Vyolet's handmaid was brushing her hair there was knock on the door. The old lady left the brush on the table and went to open the door.
A boy, probably around her age stepped in.
"My lady, your grace and ser Jamie ask you to join them in the queen chambers," the boy announced.
Vyolet couldn't help but smile. Ser Jamie? She stood up and looked at her handmaid.
"Esthis, can you fetch my sapphire headpiece please?"
The old woman bowed her head, and walked out of the room, to her mistress' jewelry box. Vyolet, in the meantime, walked to her mirror and pinched her cheeks making sure they were rosy enough.
"You're very beautiful already, my lady."
Vyolet turned around startled, forgetting the boy was still there. She looked at him frowning and noticed that he was a handsome boy. He resembled ser Loras but in roguish kind of way. The girl was speechless for a moment and the boy couldn't help but smirk, noticing her blush.
At the sight of his smile, Vyolet cleared her throat and raised her chin, trying to regain her poise.
"What's your name?"
"Ellion Coldrin, mi lady," the boy bowed his head, his smirk still in it.
"Ellion Coldrion, that's how you address the ladies you serve?" Vyolet asked coldly, annoyed by his smile.
"I meant no disrespect, mi lady," the boy apologized. "It's the truth. Though I believed you were kind and gentle. Obviously, I must have misheard a rumor."
"I am kind or gentle or you've been flogged right now for that comment," Vyolet replied, blushing even more.
Ellion's answer was just a bow with his head.
"Mi lady."
Esthis entered the room that moment, handling Vyolet the headpiece. She put it in her head with a bit more of force than necessary and left her room, her head held high, Ellion's eyes following her.
Cersei was fuming after the king had stuck her and dismiss her. Who thinks he was? That old drunk fool. Good thing he was dying sooner than later.
"What he did to you?" Jamie asked her, as he entered her room watching her already downing her anger in wine.
"He went to see that fool Stark. He slapped me and threw me out as one of his whores," Cersei spat furiously. "I am the queen. He should be treating me like one!"
Cersei anger was causing her to be a bit too loud. In fact, her niece Vyolet just stopped outside the door, hearing her rant. Her aunt had summoned her to her rooms and seeing Jamie was going to be there as well, Vyolet rushed to meet them, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to bother Cersei right now. So she just stood outside, waiting for them to finish or for the queen to cool down.
"What did Stark tell him?" Jamie asked her a bit uneasy. After all, he had slaughtered Stark men at his sister's request.
"He told Robert you attacked him," Cersei shrugged, angrily.
"That's great, Cersei. I told you it was a bad idea," Jamie spat angrily.
"I defended you!" Cersei rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, that was before or after he slapped you?" Jamie said sarcastically. "The king is his friend. Whose side do you think he is going to take when Strak tells him I slaughtered his men?"
Vyolet opened her eyes shocked. She could believe Cersei had Lord Stark men killed, but her uncle Jamie? He was honorable and kind... how? Why?
"I told you we should have left Stark alone," Jamie fumed.
"He knows about Joffrey," Cersei snapped. "He knows about us. He was going to tell Robert!"
"He still can."
"Robert is still angry with him, but he still is the Hand of the King," Cersei told him, going to her desk and pulled a piece of parchment and a quill. "We need to act right now before that drunk realizes anything."
"The king could have an unfortunate accident. He still is going for a hunt tomorrow, isn't he?" Jamie asked his sister.
Cersei nodded.
"And he's taking... what is the boy's name? Ulrick, Charles...?"
"Who cares?" Cersei interrupted him, as she started writing. "He'll just have to make sure, Robert keeps drinking."
"Not that's is that hard to accomplish," said Jamie sarcastically.
"Once the drunk is dead, Joffrey would be king."
"And Stark's daughter a queen," Jamie replied.
"Joffrey is not going to marry Sansa," Cersei replied matter-of-factly.
"The king gave his permission," Jamie reminded her.
Cersei shrugged.
"Once the king is dead, he won't have a say on this."
"It is still a good alliance," Jamie said. "That's what father said. We need the North."
"Yes, but if we marry or dear Vyolet to Joffrey, the crown would stay within our family," Cersei smirk.
"Vyolet?" Jamie frowned.
"Yes, she's smart enough to handle Joffrey," Cersei shrugged. "Joffrey will be kind to her cousin."
"That's what you think?" Jamie asked sarcastically. He loved his children, but Joffrey... well, he knew Joffrey.
"She's smarter than Sansa," said Cersei. "And Sansa is so bleak and stupid, she'll throw herself out of the tower within a month of marriage. And we can always marry her to Tommen. That way we keep the North without giving the Starks a crown."
"Vyolet's mother would never consent for her to marry Joffrey," Jamie told his sister. "Meralith doesn't like him and is not afraid to stand up to our father."
"Yes, but she won't have an option if she wants to keep her daughter safe," Cersei replied, looking at his brother with a sardonic smile.
Jamie watched her confused.
"Have you noticed how much Vyolet reassembles the mad king now that's grown?" Cersei asked him.
Jamie's frown deepened, taken aback.
"What?"
Cersei nodded.
"She just smiles like an idiot to you, but when she's not, she does have a Targaryen look on her."
"That's not possible," Jamie shook his head.
"Meralith served in the Mad King's court just like you Jamie," said Cersei. "In fact, it was you the one saying they had something else going on."
"I said the king may have... abused her," said Jamie angrily.
Cersei shrugged, not caring at all about the implications.
"That's still can result in a child. And if word goes out to the people who suffered under the Mad King's reign, that a surviving Targaryen is well and living in court..."
"She would be murdered," Jamie finished, horrified.
Cersei smirked, folding the letter she had wrote, and showed it to Jamie.
"I'm sending a letter to his mother right now. I expect she won't oppose to the idea of our children marrying."
Vyolet didn't know how she left the staircase leading to the queen's room with anybody finding out. Actually, she barely registered she had entered her room. She sat on a chair next to the fire, her mind spinning out of control, the floor breaking beneath her. All that information swarming her mind. First, it was the painful awakening of what her uncle Jamie really was. There was a reason he was called the Kingslayer. Vyolet had always found it unfair to him, to diminish such kind man, but now she knew. He was as bad as Cersei. And she had been blind to it all this time. Blind to that fact as to what was really wrong to her. She had wondered from time to time why she could do the things she did, or why she didn't resemble her mother or her father much. Vyolet didn't have the green eyes of the Lannisters, nor the clear blue of the Tullys. The blue of her eyes was paler, almost looking like ice. And she may have dark hair like her mother, but that's where the resemble ended. Was she really the daughter of the mad king? Was she really the product of her mother's violation? If she was, Vyolet couldn't imagine why her mother loved her so much. She would never be able to love the child of a rape. And now, Cersei planned to use that information against her mother. Vyolet closed her fists so tightly it almost pierced her skin with her own nails. That horrible woman, that bitch... She was not only threatening her mother but forcing her to marry Joffrey... Joffrey! From all the men in the world, Joffrey wouldn't even be an option to consider as a husband. Cersei had worried Sansa would throw herself from a tower after marrying Joffrey, and she was right, Vyolet wouldn't do that. Vyolet would throw Joffrey instead.
Vyolet's murderous thoughts were cut short by a knock on the door. Her handmaid opened the door and a steward entered the room, bowing to her. She had never seen that man before.
"Lady Vyola, Lord Stark wonders if he could have a word with you? He's in the Hand's Office," the man informed her and it was as if a light had turned on in the girl's head. Lord Stark, of course. He was the only honorable man in this whole city. Maybe there was a way out.
"Of course," the girl nodded and stood up. But just as she was about to leave her room Cersei entered. She dismissed both the boy and Esthis.
"Your grace," Vyolet made a perfect bow, controlling her face to be as calm and happy as possible, even if her blood was boiling at the sight of the queen.
"Vyolet, dear, where are you going?" Cersei asked her, her sweetness covering venom not very successfully.
"Lord Stark, summoned me," said the girl.
"What for?"
"I don't know, your grace," Vyolet replied innocently.
Cersei's smile disappeared and a threatening more natural look to her appeared.
"Lord Stark is conspiring against me and our house, Vyolet dear," the queen spat. "Did you know that?"
"No, your grace," Vyolet made sure her face reflected the appropriate amount of shock.
"He's a traitor who would use any piece of information you give him," Cersei continued ruthlessly. "He would come after you. After your dear old handmaid, after your mother. So think very carefully about what you told him, alright dear?"
She was indeed. Vyolet doubt Stark would go after her family, but not the queen.
"Yes, your grace," Vyolet bowed.
Ned Stark was answering a letter from Winterfell when someone knocked at his door. He put his quill down and his steward and Vyolet Lannister, appeared on the threshold.
"Lord Stark?" The girl bowed her head politely.
The man stood up immediately.
"Lady Vyolet, please sit," he asked her, pulling one of the chairs in front of his desk. Vyolet sat as Stark went to closed the door of his office. The girl noticed his cane and his limping, and she realized Jamie had done that to him.
"Are you alright, my lord?" Vyolet asked him.
The man nodded.
"I am getting better," he replied.
"I'm glad."
Ned walked around his desk but didn't sit. Vyolet realized whatever he was going to tell her, may not be so pleasant for her.
"Both my daughters are very fond of you, lady Vyolet," said the man, his voice harder than usual. "Actually, I'm pretty sure both idolize you by now."
Vyolet smiled lightly.
"They're sweet girls."
And it was true. Despite her intentions to be near to them, she liked both Sansa and Arya.
"They are, and I will protect them against anyone trying to harm them," the man replied, frowning. Vyolet recognized the threat immediately, but she was done playing Cersei's games.
"As any loving father should. They're fortunate to have you," the girl replied earnestly.
Ned frowned upset. Vyolet sounded honest, but he knew his share of Lannister to know she could be easily lying.
"You are good Lady Vyolet, but many Lannisters are," Stark replied coldly. "Lying, manipulating, did the queen send you to spy my girls?"
"Yes."
Stark was taken aback by her response. He expected her to deny it.
"What?"
"She did," Vyolet replied almost in a whisper, afraid someone outside may hear. "She wanted me to keep an eye on them. But they're sweet girls. I didn't tell anything the queen that would harm them," she assured him.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ned frown deepened.
"Because I need your help," Vyolet replied, finally looking up at him.
"My help?"
Vyolet nodded.
"I need you to help me flee Kings Landing."
Stark's surprised only grew.
"Flee?" He repeated surprised.
"I cannot tell you exactly, why. The queen threatened my mother and innocent people I care about," said Vyolet, worriedly. "That's why I need to leave."
Ned watched the girl and remembered Varys words. He said she an innocent girl, who wasn't like his family, yet she had spied on his daughter at the queen's request. What if this was Cersei's trap? But something in her face told him she was being honest. She looked frightened, despite trying to hide it from him. Vyolet reminded him of his daughters at that moment. When Joffrey and Cersei had accused Arya of attacking the prince and they ordered him to kill the dire wolf, they had looked at him the same way this girl was looking at him. Afraid, uncertain, pleading for help.
Ned sighted.
"Is this something to do with your father?" He asked her.
"My father?" Vyolet frowned and then understood what he was talking about. So he knew as well. "Rendal Lannister? Or do you mean King Aerys?"
Ned looked surprised.
"Is he your father?"
Vyolet smiled lightly and shrugged.
"I don't know. If he is, my mother never told me, but... I hear the queen saying so. And also, I heard stories about the Targaryan..."
She stopped for a moment.
"Yes," Stark urged her.
Vyolet stood up and walked to his light fireplace. The girl sank to her knees in front of it and rolled her sleeves leaving her arms bare. Ned observed her frowning. Then, the girl pushed her hands full into the fire.
Ned reacted by instinct. He grabbed her arms and pulled them back, but there was no need. Her pale skin was untouched.
"Is it true... is true a dragon cannot die by fire?" Vyolet asked Stark shakily, as she stood up slowly.
"Aye," was his only answer still looking at her arms. Those rumors had just been confirmed. She was a Targaryan, and a dragon.
"I will protect you," Ned vowed, looking up at the girl. "I swear. I'll help you leave the capital. But on the meantime, you have to keep pretending with Cersei. She must not know. Can you do that?"
Vyolet smiled sadly.
"I'm a Lannister, Lord Stark. Lie to protect ourselves is in our blood."
Vyolet didn't sleep at all that night. Her mind going crazy. She was a Targaryan... Her father wasn't Rendal Lannister, but the Mad King. Rendal had died almost ten years ago, but it still hurt her. Vyolet remembered clearly the king and loving man he was. Had he knew he wasn't her father? Vyolet shook her head. She may not have Rendal's blood in her, but he was her father. Now and always.
When the morning came, Vyolet felt thoroughly exhausted. Her face looked paler and lifeless and she was cold for some reason. She broke fast with Sansa and her friends, but she didn't have the energy to gossip, not even to pretend she was interested in it.
"Darling, are you alright?" Lady Marya asked Vyolet. The girl looked up startled, almost dropping her cup of tea.
"Yes," she replied nodding. "Well, my head hurts."
"Oh poor thing, why did you even came at all?" Mariya replied. "Go and rest. We'll wait you for the midday meal."
Vyolet nodded and excused herself. She wasn't sure she would sleep, but at least she wouldn't have to pull on a polite face while lying on her bed.
However, Arya bumped into her.
"Vyolet!" She hugged her, excitedly.
"Hello, little one," said Vyolet with a smile. "Where are you going?"
"To my dancing classes."
Of course.
"Very well, don't let me entertain you."
"Why don't you come with me? Syrio wants to meet you!"
"Your dancing master? Why?" Vyolet frowned confused.
"Well, he... huh, he said he wants to see you fight to see how much you ruin my lessons while helping me."
"Wow, he sounds lovely," Vyolet replied sarcastically.
"Please, come," Arya insisted.
Vyolet sighed and let the girl dragged her to the room where she practiced. As soon as her master saw how tired Vyolet was, she wouldn't waste his time with her.
Syrio was a surprise for Vyolet. He was very short man, around Arya's height. But he had a sturdy complexion. The man looked at her with an amused and smug expression.
"Who's your friend, child?" He asked Arya.
"She's my friend, Vyolet," Arya replied.
"Ah, the one who thinks she's helping you," Syrio replied sarcastically. "I wonder if all Lannisters are always so accommodating."
Arya frowned confused, but Vyolet smiled.
"We are not, but then again I'm not like most Lannisters," Vyolet replied. "For starters, they would never let a girl like me train with a sword, but yet I know how to use one."
"Do you?" Syrio raised his eyebrows at her. Vyolet nodded.
"The child says you have train with a Braavosi, before," Syrio continued.
Vyolet nodded.
"I have."
"Well, you wouldn't mind to show me what you have learn, would you?" Syrio asked her, raising his wooden sword.
"I wouldn't but I'm exhausted. I hardly slept last night," Vyolet replied apologetically.
"Good," said Sryio grabbing another wooden sword and throwing it to her. Vyolet caught it and he smiled. "You'll be a marvelous example. See, I've told Arya that when she's attacked, the conditions won't in her favor."
"I won't be good," Vyolet insisted.
"If you're not now, then you never were child," Syrio smirked at her and suddenly attacked. Vyolet reacted just in time to block his attack.
"Fasts reflects, good," Syrio nodded.
Vyolet sighed, and lifted the sword, while her other hand grabbed her dress. Syrio would be so much harder to beat than Arya. Syrio smirked as if he could read her thoughts and attacked. He was quick and hit harder than Vyolet expected. And because he was shorter than her, she had to watch her feet even more. However, thanks to her dress, she avoided some painful blows with the wooden sword.
He beat her of course, but Vyolet gave him a hell of a fight. Or at least the girl thought that. She ended up on her knees, his sword on her neck and hers a couple of feet away on the floor. Vyolet's face was red and her chest rose and fell rapidly.
Syrio nodded, pulled his sword down and help her to her feet.
"Does the lady's master's name was Irreo Vynohar?"
Vyolet looked at him surprised.
"How do you know that?"
Syrio smiled as he had remembered a fond memory.
"Irreo Vynohar was my friend," he replied. "A brilliant dancing master."
"He was," Vyolet agreed nodding.
"He helped me fight wearing a dress. Gave me a good beating every time I tripped with it," Vyolet reminded softly.
Syrio nodded.
"But now you have good balance. Maybe this child should learn that too."
Vyolet laughed at Arya's disgusted face.
"I don't think you or anyone will catch Arya wearing a dress anytime soon, so she doesn't to worry about that."
Syrio smiled and nodded, then looked at Arya.
"Child, stretch your limbs. Remember the exercises."
Arya nodded and went to a corner of the room, starting to extend her arms and legs. Once she was far enough, Syrio turned to Vyolet, his smile turning sarcastic yet again.
"Irreo Vyohar wouldn't have teach you his ways, if a child lacked honor," Syrio told Vyolet seriously. "No matter how much the Lannisters offered to pay him."
"You're questioning my honor," Vyolet told him, but help but smile. "I mean I understand, but still it hurts me a little."
"That child is under my protection," Syrio reminded her, nodding at Arya. "I won't allow any harm to come to her, while I'm teaching her."
"I won't hurt her," Vyolet told him, earnestly, her smile fading. "I promised this to her father and I promised this to you."
"A Lannister promise don't mean much to Syrio Forel," said the man sarcastically.
"Then it's good I'm not a Lannister," Vyolet replied, fiercely, almost in a whisper.
Syrio then just smiled. As he already knew. As if he was waiting to hear that.
"My friend Irreo did a good job on you girl," Syrio told her. "He would be proud of you. Don't let it go to waste."
And with a nod of his head, he left Vyolet to join Arya.
Vyolet slept all day. She missed the midday lunch and din't woke up until it was dark. She couldn't help herself. She had been exhausted and after Syrio's beating, she couldn't do anything but sleep for hours.
Esthis ran her a bath after she woke up, telling her she had been summoned by Cersei once again. Vyolet sighed as her maid washed her hair, and closed her eyes enjoying the feeling, trying to let all her problems go for just a moment. She had almost drifted to sleep once again when she finished.
Vyolet dryed herself and Esthis helped her in a dress as Vyolet went through all the possible scenarios, preparing herself for the worst ones. With Cersei she couldn't expect less.
She left her room, practicing a cool, polite facade. It had to be perfect, especially when Cersei asked about what she had talked with Ned Stark. And speaking of him, he just entered the corridor, surrounded by his men. Vyolet stopped, not knowing what that meant.
"Lord Stark," Vyolet bowed her head as he approached her.
"The King is hurt," he informed her.
Vyolet frowned not understanding.
"The King is going to die," Stark added, lowering his voice. Vyolet opened her eyes wide, taken aback. "Once that happens, you must not be here. I'll arrenge for you to escape safely with Sansa and Arya."
Vyolet was speechless for a moment before nodding.
"Thank you, my lord," she said overwhelmed.
"Where are you going now?"
Vyolet smiled bitterly.
"I've been summoned by the queen."
Ned Stark tensed.
"What are you going to tell her?" He asked.
Vyolet sighed.
"A colorful expression keeps popping in my mind, but it's not very lady-like."
Stark couldn't help but smile.
"Be careful, child."
Vyolet nodded and then left lord Stark, ready to meet Cersei.
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