"Oh gods!" Jon exclaimed loudly in disgust as he held his nose, his other hand gripped tightly around the reins of his horse. "I thought you japed when you said the smell was atrocious! It smells of rotten corpses!"

Lyonel looked forward as his horse walked the streets of King's Landing, "Rotten corpses are doubtlessly the source of the smell." Jon stared at him in disbelief before shaking his head and looking forward. This was not what Jon had expected of the capital. The commons all hailed the royal court's return with joyful cheers. Children ran along the sides and stared at the entourage in awe. Men and women opened their windows to stare out at the royal party and cheer as well.

Lyonel stared forward the entire way until they finally arrived inside of The Red Keep. As the gates closed behind them, Lyonel and Jon dismounted, as did Lord Stark who rode in the front. Lyonel saw a servant approaching the lord, "Greetings, Lord Stark. Grand Maester Pycelle has requested a meeting of the small council. The honor of your presence is requested, as is Prince Lyonel's."

Lord Stark turned to look at Lyonel in surprise, "You are a member of the small council?"

Lyonel looked back at him, "At times."

"I never knew."

Lyonel shrugged ever so slightly with his shoulders, "I never told you." He turned to look back at Jon, "Escort Arya and Sansa to their rooms."

"Of course, Lyonel," Jon said with a slight bow to his head.

The prince turned around and looked at the servant before motioning to Jon. The man understood immediately and nodded, "As you wish. Come, ser. And don't forget your sisters."

Lyonel did not look to see or hear Jon's response as he turned to Lord Stark, "Come." Lord Eddard nodded wordlessly before he was guided through the maze of hallways of The Red Keep. The prince seemed to know exactly where to go in order for them to arrive swiftly. Everything started looking more and more familiar to Eddard. He remembered charging through these hallways, swinging Ice at Targaryen loyalists. He remembered opening the doors the throne room, and being greeted with the sight of Aerys lying in a pool of his own blood at the bottom of the stairs while Jaime Lannister sat on the iron monstrosity known as the Iron Throne. His blade was sullied with the blood of a mad dragon, his mocking smirk as he greeted Lord Stark.

They finally opened the doors and walked through the tediously long hall. They both spotted Ser Jaime Lannister sitting on the steps. Jaime stayed as he greeted them, "Nephew, Lord Stark. Thank the gods you two are here. About time we had some stern, northern leadership, with an iron fist to back it up."

Lord Stark greets the Kingslayer back as the man stands up, "Glad to see you're protecting the throne."

Jaime's smirk lingered as he turned to look at the throne, "Sturdy old thing. I wonder how many kings' arses it's polished." He turned around to look at the somber wolf, "And what's the saying: 'The king shits and the Hand wipes'?"

Before Eddard had a chance to retort, Lyonel replied with an irked expression, "Be quiet and let us go on our way. My temper has not improved since the Trident."

Jaime simply smiled and bowed his head, "As you wish, my prince." He walked past them as his steel boots clanged to the floor with every step. When the clanging noise faded to silence, Lyonel wordlessly continued to lead Lord Stark.

They finally arrived and were greeted by the sight of the councilors. Lord Varys was the first to greet them as he stepped forward, "Lord Stark, Prince Lyonel. I was grievously sorry to hear about your troubles on the Kingsroad. We are all praying for prince Joffrey's recovery."

Eddard opened his mouth to speak, yet it was Lyonel's voice that was heard, "Save your prayers for someone who deserves them. Like the butcher's boy."

Lord Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger, finally spoke, "We should all be praying for the hound's recovery. His agony was the direst, was it not?"

'He was lucky that was all I did,' Lyonel thought, but stayed quiet.

Eddard walked past the Spider and towards Lyonel's least favorite uncle, "Renly! You're looking well."

Renly smiled as he pulled back, "And you look tired from the road. I told them this meeting could wait another day, but…"

"-But we have a kingdom to rule," Baelish finished. Eddard turned to look at him. "I've waited quite some time to meet you, Lord Stark. No doubt Lady Catelyn has mentioned me."

Lyonel suddenly spoke out with his robust voice, "Not nearly as much as you mentioned her."

Eddard looked back at him in surprise while Baelish did the same, but with a discreet glare in place of a surprised look, "A pleasure to see you again, my prince."

Lyonel said nothing as his gaze penetrated into Baelish's soul. Littlefinger felt greatly unnerved under the prince's gaze, but hid it well.

Lord Stark broke the silence and awkwardness as he turned to look at Baelish, "Catelyn did. I trust you knew my brother Brandon well."

Lord Baelish smirked in response, yet the nervousness lingered in his eyes, "I did. I still carry a token of his esteem, from navel to collarbone." He motioned his hand to the aforementioned areas of his body."

Eddard cracked a small and rare smile, "Perhaps you chose the wrong man to duel with."

"It was not the man I chose, Lord Stark. It was Catelyn Tully, a woman worth fighting for. As I'm sure you'll agree."

Pycelle interjected from the side, "I humbly beg your pardon, Lord Stark."

Eddard turned to look at the old maester, "Grand Maester."

"How many years has it been? You were a young man."

Eddard nodded, "And you served another king."

Pycella stared at the man, masking his loss for words as thoughtfulness. He feigned recollection of a memory as he suddenly reached into his pockets, "Oh, how forgetful of me. This belongs to you now." Pycelle held out The Hand's pin. Eddard received it before pinning it to his chest. "Should we begin?"

Eddard looked around, confused, "Without the king?"

Renly had opened his mouth to speak when Lyonel interrupted, "The king is drinking and whoring as always. We rule the Seven Kingdoms, not him."

Eddard stared at him in surprise before nodding slowly. Everyone sat down in their respective seats, with the omission of Lyonel who leaned against the wall sideways. Renly held out a scroll to Lord Stark. As he opened the scroll, Renly explained the contents, "My brother instructs us to stage a tournament, in honor of Lord Stark's appointment as Hand of The King."

Baelish looked at Eddard, "How much?"

He sighed as he read the numbers, "30,000 gold dragons for the champion, 20,000 for the melee champion and 20,000 for the winning archer."

"Can the treasury bear such expense?" Pycelle asks.

Baelish shrugged, "We can borrow gold from Lord Tywin, seeing as we already owe him two million in debt."

Eddard stared at him in shock and disbelief, "You mean to tell me the crown is two million in debt?"

"I mean to tell you we are three million in debt. You should be thanking the prince. Without him, the crown's debt would have doubled, if not more."

Eddard turned to look at Lyonel, his shocked and disbelieving expression still on his face. Lyonel nodded in confirmation. "How could you have let this happen?" Eddard demands as he looks at all of the members but Lyonel.

Baelish was the one to answer, "The master of coin finds the money. The king, hence the hand, spends it."

"I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm!"

Pycelle spoke next, "The previous Hand often offered wise and prudent advice. But I fear the king does not always listen to said advice."

"Counting coppers, he calls it," Renly added.

Eddard sighed, "I will speak to him on the morrow."

"No need," Lyonel said suddenly.

Eddard looked at him, "I do not follow, my prince."

"No need. I will pay from my own pockets."

Eddard stared at him in confusion, "My prince, how will you be able to afford 70,000 gold drag-"

"I can afford 20,000 gold dragons," he interrupts.

"Sorry?"

Lyonel shrugged, still leaning against the wall, "Or maybe nothing at all. I aim to win the jousting and the archery. If luck favors me, I will win the melee also, although it might be unlikely. And unless my master joins the archery range, we have few things to fret over." Lyonel mentally added, 'The last thing we need is Tywin Lannister to bend us over the table once he comes to collect his debt.'

"Your master?"

Lyonel elaborated, "The man who trained me in archery. Half of the gold I win will go to paying off the debt."

Eddard nodded his thanks but could not help but wonder, "And the rest?"

"The rest will go to the stone masons."

Eddard, once again, had a look of confusion on his face, "What stone masons?"

Renly spoke in place of Lyonel, "My dear nephew has begun the construction of canteens and housings for the poor and ill, a most noble task."

Eddard turned towards Lyonel, who spoke, "The gold should be enough for the masons to buy materials and tools. Any gold left over will go to the orphanage."

The Lord of Winterfell stared at Lyonel. 'He's as shrewd as his grandfather.'

Lyonel stood straight, "If there is nothing else…" Lyonel did not wait as he turned around and walked out of the room to find Jon and Arya.

Later

Lyonel leaned against the doorframe to the Stark's dining room. The shadow of the door frame hid his figure well enough that the Starks would not notice him. His sworn shield, Arya, Sansa and Septa Mordane sat as they ate together. Arya stabbed at the table with her dinner knife over and over again.

The Septa soon had enough, "Enough of that, young lady. Eat your food."

"I'm practicing," Arya responded as she continued to stab the table.

"Practicing for what?" Sansa asked.

Arya glared at her, "Prince Joffrey."

The Septa looked at Arya with wide eyes as she scolded, "Arya, stop." Sansa glared at her sister. Jon repressed the urge to smile as he pretended to try to stop Arya.

"He's a liar and he killed Mycah!"

Lyonel decided to make himself known, "You want to get Joffrey?"

Mordane and Sansa gasped in surprise while Jon's eyes widened. Arya grinned as she saw him, "Lyonel!" She stood up from her chair before running to hug Lyonel, a hug which he returned.

As he pulled back, he stared at her before repeating, "You want to get Joffrey?" Arya nodded firmly. Lyonel stared at her before he said, "Get in line." Arya smiled in response, as did Jon though his smile was smaller.

Sansa tried to defend Joffrey, "The Hound killed Mycah. He got his punishment. You blinded him in one eye."

Lyonel had thought Sansa would choose her own family over Joffrey, an assumption which he stated during the feast at Winterfell to Arya. He was surprised, and disgusted to be proven otherwise. He had stopped trying to prove to Sansa that his brother was a monster. If she chooses to be ignorant, so be it.

Arya angrily retorted, "The Hound does what Joffrey tells him to do. And if you hadn't been a liar, Mycah would still be alive."

"Enough!" The Septa commanded as she stood up.

Eddard's voice was heard as he walked into the room, "What is happening here?"

Mordane turned to look at her lord, "Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady."

Lyonel turned to her with an angry expression, "You will guard your tongue when speaking about Arya, lest you see it removed." The Septa was taken aback as her eyes widened at the threat. The inhabitants of the room all stared at Lyonel.

Eddard quickly decided to remove the tension from the room, "My prince, please take Arya to her room." Lyonel stared at the Septa, his eyes unnerving her. He looked away before gently taking Arya's hand in his own. He walked away to guide Arya to her room.

Jon attempted to follow, but was stopped by his father, "Not you, Jon. I wish to trade words with you." Jon looked at his father in surprise before nodding.

Lyonel opened the door to Arya's room before he walked inside with her. Arya walked over to the bed on the opposite end of the room before she sat on it. She stared at the ground as Lyonel turned around and closed the door behind him. He walked over before sitting next to her on the bedside. He glanced at her and to his hidden surprise; he saw tears falling down her cheeks. Arya must have seen him notice her tears as she looked away.

"Arya," Lyonel said. "Arya, don't look away." Arya continues to stare off. Lyonel felt his chest pain ever so slightly at seeing his friend this way. He thought he was close enough to her that she would confide in him as a friend. Perhaps he should let her know she could. His voice was surprisingly soft as he spoke "Arya, it's alright. I'm your friend. You don't need to hide your feelings when you're with me, ever."

Arya turned to look at him slowly. Lyonel saw her wet cheeks, her trembling lips and her welling eyes. He cupped her cheeks with his hands before wiping the tears with his thumbs. "Don't think you need to hold your feelings inside. Not when I'm here. I will always be there to listen. Don't hide what you're thinking or feeling."

Arya stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise and relief. She suddenly threw herself at him and hugged him tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck before sobbing on his shoulder. Lyonel was surprised by the sudden embrace before he slowly brought his hands to rub her back soothingly.

Arya spoke with a trembling voice, "It's my fault Mycah's dead. I should never have asked him to play with me!"

Lyonel pulled back before staring into her eyes, his expression soft along with his eyes, "Don't blame yourself, Arya. You could never have known this would happen. It was Joffrey's fault and his fault only, no matter what anyone else says. I promise you that someone will pay for Mycah's life, be it the Hound or Joffrey. But no matter what, don't ever blame yourself. Understood?"

Arya stared at him before nodding. She suddenly hugged him again, although this time less spontaneously, "Thank you."

Arya missed the rare smile on Lyonel's face as he said, "Don't mention it."

Arya pulled back and saw the smile on his face. They were suddenly interrupted when Lord Stark opened the door. Lyonel and Arya both snap their heads towards the door to see him walk in. Lord Stark noticed Arya's red eyes, "What's wrong, Arya?"

Arya smiled before shaking her head, "Nothing, father."

Lyonel stood up, his smile faded, "I shall take my leave."

Eddard nodded and moved to his right to allow the prince to leave the room. He stared after him before closing the door.

Lyonel's eyes were closed shut as he sat on the only chair in his room. Unlike the rest of his family, his room was not as bedecked. It was spartan as it only had a bed big enough for one person only, a nightstand next to it, a table right next to the window opposite of the front door and a chair. Lyonel sighed quietly, enjoying the rare silence. He sighed once again, though this time in hidden annoyance, as he heard knocking on his door. He stood up before walking over and opening the door. Lord Stark was revealed, his hand closed and raised as he was going to knock again. He lowered his hand quickly, "My prince. May I come in?"

He received a wordless nod in response. Eddard thanked him with a nod of his head as Lyonel stepped aside. The prince closed the door before turning to his betrothed's father.

Eddard turned to look at Lyonel, "I have come to ask of you, who is trustworthy in the council? -Besides you, of course. Your father had told me you would help."

Lyonel stared at him, "Pycelle works for my mother in secret. At least, that's what she assumes. In truth, his words find my grandfather's ears. Renly is as lazy as ever, but someone has his ear as well. But I do not know who." Lyonel knew who it was. 'Loras Tyrell,' He thought. The reason Lyonel knew this thanks to his spy network. He may not have the largest, though he almost did as it was second only to the spider's, but he most definitely has the best hidden. No one knew of its existence, not even Varys. On the council, he put on a stern and honorable face but in truth, he thought of honor as a foolish notion made by those who wish to make themselves feel better and benevolent than others. He would never let honor stop his intelligence or survival.

Lyonel continued, "Varys is a far more enigmatic one. He seems to truly care for the realm. Yet I know not if it is nothing more than a mummer's farce or if his interest in the good of the realm is genuine."

Lyonel stayed quiet about Varys' loyalty to the Targaryens. He had already sent a dear and close friend to act as a spy in the Targaryen's midst and to try mending the bad blood between the houses. Lyonel knew it would mean war if he ignored the Targaryens. War is the last thing Lyonel wanted.

Across The Narrow Sea

Daenerys Targaryen sat next to her new husband, Khal Drogo, as she watched men bring gifts and tributes to the newlywed couple. It did not take too long before a man, who spoke the common tongue, approached them with gifts in the form of books. The man revealed himself to be Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, a man from her homeland. Not long after he gave them the gifts did another Westerosi man approached. The man looked young, no older than ten-and-nine, with the shadow of a beard on his face and short hair. Daenerys noticed that he had two swords on his sides.

The man bowed down and introduced himself, "Khaleesi, your grace. My name is Garrett Penrose. I'm the nephew of Courtnay Penrose, castellan to Storm's End."

Viserys frowned, "Storm's End? Isn't that the usurper's castle?"

Garrett almost corrected him by telling him the brother of the 'usurper' owns the castle, but stopped himself. He instead decided nod, "It is. But he is what he is. A usurper. I serve only the true king. Viserys Targaryen, the last dragon."

Viserys seemed very pleased at the title as he smiled, "Seems like someone hasn't lost their sense. The usurper is losing more and more men."

Garrett simply nodded before he drew the sword on the right side of his waist and held it up as he still bowed. Viserys stood up before slowly walking down to his new soldier. He took the steel slowly from Garrett's hands before inspecting it. He slowly moved his finger to the edge. Garrett quickly stood up, "I wouldn't do that. The blade is no Valyrian steel but it is stronger and sharper than most."

Viserys stared at him before he slowly nodded. He walked back to his seat, not thanking Garrett for the gift. Garrett stood up before walking over to Daenerys. His hand reached behind himself as he pulled out a book. He held it in front of Dany, "This book contains records of every single known dragon. From their birth, to their deeds and finally, their death."

Daenerys looked at him before accepting the book, "Thank you, Ser."

Garrett nodded with a friendly smile before stepping back and walking to the midst of the crowd. The dothraki danced and fucked, while a few even fought to the death over something as mundane as walking into each other. Garrett simply looked on with a neutral expression on his face as he pretended not to notice the dothraki pointing at him as he spoke to his friend in an aggressive tone, no doubt insulting Garrett. The dothraki walked behind him before attempting to push Garrett into the clearing where the dothraki had made room to spectate fights. The dothraki was surprised when Garrett swiftly turned around and grabbed his arms before throwing him into the clearing in his stead.

The stormlander drew his blade before surprising everyone when he spoke the dothraki tongue, "I do not have the patience for this! Back off!" The dothraki's expression displayed rage at the humiliation of when he was thrown. He suddenly drew his arakh before swinging at the summer boy. Garrett simply sidestepped behind the bronze skinned savage before he lifted his blade and brought it down on his neck, severing the head and the braid.

The crowd stared at him in surprise, while Garrett picked the head up and threw it to the dothraki's friend before walking back to his previous place, ignoring the stares he received.

Including the one from Daenerys.

Present

Lyonel continued, "Baelish is the worst of them all."

Eddard seemed truly shocked, "My wife had told me Baelish is a friend of hers, and that he is trustworthy."

"Your wife only thinks he is trustworthy. For she cannot know what is not true. The truth, lord Stark, is that Baelish lusts after your wife, he is loyal only to himself and his needs, needs which happen to include Lady Catelyn." Eddard's shock only grew. "Remember what I said during the first meeting?"

Eddard nodded, "You said: "Not nearly as much as you had mentioned her." Is it true?"

Lyonel nodded, "He has spread lies in court that he had been the one to take Lady Catelyn and Lysa Tully's maidenheads."

Eddard's expression turned to fury. Lyonel stopped him from storming out of the room by grabbing the lord by his shoulders, "This is King's Landing, Lord Stark! You cannot let anyone know that you know, no matter the subject. Let Baelish think you foolishly trusting, swallow your honor and pride and pretend you heard nothing. And revenge will be yours."

Eddard stared at him, seeming conflicted. He realized the hatred he was feeling for Baelish was almost as strong as his pride and sense of honor. He nodded as he looked at Lyonel, "As you wish, my prince. But this deception is as far as I go. I will not be bewitched by lies and poison words at court."

Lyonel nodded as he released the man's shoulders. When Eddard opened the door, he startled a maid that was suspiciously close to the door. Eddard didn't notice as he simply apologized before walking off. Lyonel leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed and waited until Eddard had disappeared. The maid approached him, "Are you in need of anything, my prince?"

Lyonel's eyes shifted to her. Her long, black, curly hair was draped across her back and was brushed aside in the front to reveal the cleavage of her full breasts. Her eyes were green like fresh apples, with high, sharp cheekbones. She was beautiful. Lyonel stared at her before he smirked roguishly. He stood straight before his right hand gently caressed her cheek, "I have many needs."

The woman blushed, unknowingly beguiled, yet tried to hide it as she cracked a sultry smirk, "Any I can attend to?"

Lyonel stared into her green eyes, "I can think of a few." Her hands slowly made their way up to his cheeks as she stared into his eyes. Lyonel gently pushed her up against the wall, prompting her to gasp lightly as their foreheads touched. Lyonel's lips made their way to her neck as he gently kissed her. His warm breath left a trail of fire on her neck as her breasts heaved. Lyonel gripped her wrists gently before pushing her arms against the wall. Her guard was down… good.

Lyonel suddenly pulled back before slamming his hand on her throat and gripped it tightly. Her eyes widened as she grabbed his hand, trying in vain to pry his iron grip, her breathing struggled. His eyes glared into her soul before he dragged her into a room, not too far away.

He dragged her into the room and threw her onto a chair. There were two other occupants in the room, but thankfully they belonged to Lyonel as spies. Their eyes widened in surprise before one of them quickly closed the door behind them. The maid breathed heavily in panic as her breasts heaved up and down. Lyonel glared at her. He had been using the water in his room as a reflection to work on a smirk that could be considered 'attractive' or 'seductive' in order for him to seduce spies working for others. Lyonel thought it a ridiculous and humiliating thing to work on, yet he believed his reason was justification enough. He had also seen in brothels how to 'properly' kiss and arouse, among… other things. He used these observations to his advantage, yet went no further than simply kissing and arousing. The more… intimate things were spared only for the woman Lyonel would marry. His mind went to Arya, before he decimated the thought in his head before it went any further.

He stared at the maid in front of him. She had been following him ever since he left Arya's room after comforting her. She had also been foolish enough to think he would not notice.

Lyonel ripped off a piece of her dress, causing her to let out a short scream, before he tied her hands behind the chair. He crouched down to her level before unsheathing his knife and bringing it to her throat. The woman closed her eyes in fear. She opened them before looking at Lyonel, "What are you going to do to me?"

Lyonel stared at her, "Good question. Although, I suspect you have some ideas as to what I might do. I might beat you…" Her eyes widened. "…or perhaps rape would be a better option." He dragged the blade from her throat and down between her cleavage. "More fun for me and you get to satisfy my needs. It's what you wanted, is it not, to feel me inside of you? I could be gentle if you wish it… or I could make it the most painful experience you ever had. Of course, you might enjoy pain. I could even have these two men join me." The two men behind her smirked, knowing what their leader was trying to do. "It's your choice, really…" Her breath quickened in fear as she closed her eyes. Tears fell slowly from her eyes.

"Please… I beg of you, I'll tell you any-" Her sentence was cut short by a sob. "… I'll tell you anything… just don't hurt me, please, my prince."

Lyonel had to admit, the rumors of his ruthlessness and brutality did have its advantages. In truth, he would never rape anyone, or have anyone raped for that matter. As ruthless as he was, he was disgusted by the act. To do something so heinous and hateful simply to satisfy your wicked needs, and masking it as a method of interrogation... it was repulsive. If Lyonel was to harm anyone in any way, he would at least be decent enough to be honest about the reason. Unless it would put him at a disadvantage.

His hand went to her chin as he forced her to look at him. "Who do you work for?"

"Baelish!" She blurted out swiftly. Lyonel stared at her, looking for any sign of deception, yet found none. Seems she was really desperate or very afraid of Lyonel. He suspected it was a bit of both.

Lyonel nodded slowly, "…Very good." He stared into her eyes before he began to slowly lift the blade from her chest… or so she thought. In truth, he pointed the tip directly at her chest before pushing the blade into her heart with ease. Her silent yet pained gasp silenced the room as her eyes widened. She stared at Lyonel, wanting to ask why, yet she found herself unable to form words. A small stream of blood poured from her chest wound and ruined her dress. Lyonel stared into her eyes, his own not wavering for a second, until her mouth closed slowly, along with her eyes. He slipped the blade out before wiping the blood on the shoulder of her dress. He sheathed it before standing up straight and looking at his men, "Dump the body."

One of the men sighed, "It won't be easy, but… we'll try, my prince."

Lyonel stared at the two before responding, "Take her body down to the sewers. The guards along the path work for me." He pulled out a small rectangular wooden plate with his mark carved on it. The mark displayed the back of a black gauntlet with red outlines. The back of the hand had the yellow stag of Baratheon. "Show it to the guards, they will know I sent you. Once you are finished, bring the mark back to me."

The two men nodded in gratitude for making their objective much easier. Lyonel did not respond as he turned around and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Lyonel heard Lord Stark speaking to Arya as he made his way to Jon's room. "Cats?" Eddard's confused voice said. Eddard continued, as Arya didn't answer, "Syrio says. Lyonel made himself known as he walked around the corner and saw Arya standing next to Jon at the top of the stairway. Eddard stood at the bottom as he looked at them.

"Who's Syrio?" Lyonel asked, slightly startling Eddard.

"My dancing master," Arya responded.

Lyonel turned to look at Jon for explanation. Jon realized how odd it sounded when Arya put it that way, "She means the Braavosi water dance."

Lyonel nodded in realization. Arya turned to look at her father, "Can Bran live with us now that he's woken up?"

Before Eddard could answer, the prince turned to look at him with a surprised expression, "Brandon's awake?" Eddard nodded. Lyonel had a look of relief as he whispered, "Thank the old gods."

"Can he still be a part of the kingsguard?" Arya asks.

Jon answered instead of Lyonel, "He can, thanks to the prince."

"I'll put in a good word for him." The prince turned to look at Jon, "You just make sure he trains well." Jon nodded in response.

Arya looked at her betrothed in excitement, "Will you be jousting tomorrow?"

He nodded curtly. Jon smirks at his younger sister, "Why? Planning on giving him your favor?"

Lyonel hid a playful smirk as he watched Arya's angry expression. He knew she had something planned, judging by her sudden change in expression. Her face turned mischievous, "You mean like Princess Myrcella gave you her favor?"

Jon blushed as regret crossed his eyes. He turned to look at Lyonel, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The tension dissipated as Lyonel spoke, "If she gave you her favor, you had damn better make sure you win, or fight with everything you got trying."

Jon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as he nodded, "I will."

Tourney of The Hand

"I've been sitting here for days! Start the damned joust before I piss myself!" The king of The Iron Throne shouted drunkenly. 'Filthy pig,' Lyonel thought. He stared forward and quietly. His mother stood up, disgusted, before she walked past The Hound, whose burns seemed fresher and more recent. His right eye was milky white as he had been blinded by Lyonel when the prince shoved his face into the burning torch. Beside him stood Jon, who Lyonel had purposefully placed next to Myrcella, separating the two siblings. Lyonel heard Sansa's voice.

"Who's that?" She pointed at the giant of a man on horseback.

Baelish answered for her. Arya had been ignoring him when Lyonel told her of his feelings towards her mother. She sat next to Sansa and tried to ignore his voice, and the ever increasing urge to pull out needle and poke his eye out, "Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain. The Hound's older brother."

Lyonel already knew who it was. 'If I see even the smallest excuse to murder him, I will take it.'

The prince had jousted against Andar Royce and several other knights before. And he had unhorsed them all. Tomorrow, he would go up against the winner of that day's first joust.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Sansa once again, "And his opponent?"

And once again, Littlefinger answered, "Ser Hugh of The Vale. He was Jon Arryn's squire. Look how far he's come."

The two 'knights' bowed to their drunk king before riding to their respective sides of the field. During the first ride, they both missed their target as the crowd gasped. They soon turned their horses around and rode once more. The crowd looked on as excitement rose the closer the two got. The excitement was replaced with horror when The Mountain's lance splintered against Ser Hugh's throat. The boy fell from his horse with wood sticking out of his throat while coughing out blood. Sansa screamed loudly as almost everyone stood up. Myrcella swiftly looked away and closed her eyes as Jon crouched down and hugged her to his shoulder. Lyonel stared at the dying valeman with a blank face.

An eerie silence fell over the entire tourney as only the sound of Ser Hugh choking on his own blood was heard. Lyonel stood up before making his way down to the edge of the stand. He vaulted over the fence and landed right next to Ser Hugh. He landed right in his blood puddle as it splattered all over the dying boy. Lyonel stared at him before crouching down, ignoring his now-ruined pants as blood seeped into the fabric, and pulling out his knife. Ser Hugh looked at him and nodded slowly. The prince slowly lifted the boy's head to his chest, covering his eyes, before he quickly slipped the blade into the back of his skull, taking care not to push it in too far. The choking stopped immediately as Lyonel held his head to his chest before pulling the blade out. He placed the knight's head on the ground gently. Lyonel stood up, ignoring all the stares he received, before looking down at his ruined clothes. He turned around slowly to look at Arya, who stared at him in shock. There was the slightest hint of admiration in her eyes. She looked down at the corpse as it was about to be dragged away by two men. How could they be so disrespectful?

Lyonel saw the look in her eyes and put his hand on the shoulder of one of the men. He didn't care about Ser Hugh's corpse. But Arya did, it seemed. He shook his head, "Treat it with respect." The man shrugged, not knowing what he meant. Lyonel sighed silently to himself as he leaned down. He slid his arms under Ser Hugh's back and legs before lifting the limp body. His clothes were already ruined, so he couldn't care less. He carried the body off to the silent sisters, all while ignoring the stares he received from the crowd.

Next Day

He sat in the exact same seat as yesterday. This time, he wore his thick plate armor, with his antlered helmet on his lap. The antlers belonged to the very same stag he had killed on his Baratheon Hunt. He'd requested the antlers be sent to him when he had fashioned the helmet at his forge. He looked at where Arya sat yesterday, next to her sister. Yet she was absent. Arya had told Lyonel she would rather train with Syrio than to be watching the tourney again after what had happened.

Lyonel was broken out of his thoughts by Tommen, who sat to his left, "Can I wear that, brother?" Tommen pointed at the helmet on Lyonel's lap.

He turned to look at his younger brother before smiling, "Of course."

He lifted the helmet before lowering it slowly on his little brother's head. "It's a bit heavy on my head. And I can't see anything." Myrcella giggled as Lyonel chuckled at Tommen. Tommen turned his head quickly to try and see as the helmet's eyeholes did not match the level of Tommen's own eyes, yet the helmet stayed still, staring forward. It looked rather amusing until Lyonel decided to take the helmet off.

They all missed the look of hatred and envy from Joffrey.

Lyonel looked forward to watch the ongoing joust between Jon Snow and Jason Mallister. Jon had Myrcella's favor tucked in the neck of his plate armor he had received from Lyonel who bought it with his own coin. The first tilt resulted in Jon's lance splintering on Jason Mallister's shield while dodging his opponent's lance. The second tilt was a close hit for both, yet they both missed the same. Jason Mallister was finally unhorsed on the third tilt as the crowd gasped when Jon's lance struck his head. Jon swiftly turned his horse around and rode next to Jason's laying form before dismounting. Everyone was relieved when Jason took his helmet off to reveal himself unharmed. Jon held out his hand, to which Jason accepted as he lifted himself up.

The next joust immediately resulted in the downfall of Jon as he was unhorsed when Lyonel's lance shattered against his chest. Lyonel, himself, was struck in the chest, yet his strength and thick plated armor helped him. It seemed Jon was not as resilient.

Half an hour later and Lyonel was seated once again next to his siblings, absent armor. He wore his normal tunic and trouser as his next joust wasn't until tomorrow. The prince was to face the winner of the joust they were currently spectating. The joust before that was between Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell of Highgarden. Jaime was unhorsed by the young knight and was to face The Mountain That Rides.

Ser Loras rode up to Sansa before handing her a blood red rose. His white shining armor gleamed as it was struck by sunlight. The intricate carvings on his armor depicted roses and thorns.

"Thank you, Ser Loras," Sansa said shyly. Loras nodded with a smile. Lyonel did not miss the glances his uncle Renly and Loras would send each other. He was no fool. He knew the two were lovers. It was Loras who whispered into Renly's ears. Loras rode off and stopped before the king's platform. He bowed dramatically atop his silver white mare. Lyonel noticed as the Ser Loras and Ser Gregor rode off, that The Mountain's horse seemed crazed and uncontrollable. The moment Lyonel spotted Loras' smirk, he knew the Knight of Highgarden was riding a mare in heat.

When the two finally arrived at their respective sides, Sansa spoke to her father with a concerned voice, "Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," as she put her hands on his arm.

Eddard turned to look at her as he put his own hand on top of hers comfortingly, "Hey."

"I can't watch." Lyonel felt dumbfounded. One moment she acted as if she was in love with Joffrey, and the next she acts as if Ser Loras was the love of her life. Was she truly so easily swayed by a simple rose? All women couldn't be like this, could they? No, of course not. Arya was living proof of that.

"A hundred gold dragons on The Mountain," Littlefinger offered, waiting for someone to accept.

Renly was the one who responded, "I'll take that bet."

"Now, what shall I do with a hundred gold dragons, hm? A dozen barrels of dornish wine? Or perhaps a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?"

Renly opened his mouth to retort, "You could even buy a friend." Lyonel resisted the urge to burst out laughing, while most people on the stand did.

A squire sounded the trumpets as the two knights spurred their horses, the crowd cheering in the background.

They rode closer and closer until finally Ser Loras' lance shattered and splintered against The Mountain, unhorsing him. Ser Gregor broke the fence separating the two different lanes when he fell on it. The crowd cheered and Renly stood up, laughing at his victory on the wager from Littlefinger, "Such a shame, Littlefinger! Would've been so nice for you to have a friend!"

Baelish turned around to look at Renly, "And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend?" He motioned his hand towards Loras.

The Knight of Flowers rode towards the king's platform as the crowd cheered. When he arrived, Gregor stood up with a furious expression before shouting, "Sword!"

Lyonel stood up swiftly, almost knocking the chair back as Jon looked at him, "What's wrong?"

Gregor's squire brought out a giant sword and held it out. Gregor unsheathed it before he lifted the massive blade and brought it down on his horse's neck, severing its head. The crowd gasped in shock. Loras turned around and was knocked off his horse when he blocked the strike from The Mountain. Lyonel rushed as between the seats of the stand. Just as Gregor was about to bring down his sword on Loras with the intent of murder, Lyonel planted his feet on the fence before leaping at Gregor with his fist pulled back. He slammed his knuckles on Gregor's face, staggering the giant of a man, before he landed on the ground and rolled gracefully. He quickly stood up and turned around with his fists held up. Lyonel may be an average swordsman, but his hand-to-hand skills were another story.

He ducked under the swing of Gregor's blade before upper-cutting him and grabbing the sword's guards. Lyonel saw an opportunity when Gregor was dazed as he swiftly and roughly pulled the sword out of his hand before throwing it away. Lyonel fell on his back when Gregor kicked him in the back of his feet. Lyonel rolled away from a stomp before pulling out his blade and stabbing Gregor's kneecap and twisting it, disabling his leg. Gregor shouted in pain as he fell to the ground next to Lyonel. Lyonel pulled the blade out but The Mountain's hand gripped his back and pulled him off the ground and slammed him against Gregor's other side. Lyonel was given no time to react as the Mountain slammed his own fist into Lyonel abdomen. Lyonel groaned out in pain, before recovering with surprising speed. He pulled out the knife before grabbing The Mountain's arm and stabbing him in the armpit, disabling it.

The giant of a man screamed out before Lyonel suddenly straddled him and lifted his fist. He began to brutally beat Ser Gregor, giving him no time to recover as his powerful punches dazed and staggered him every time.

Lyonel's father shouted out loudly, "ENOUGH OF THIS!"

Lyonel stopped his fist mid-air before standing up and turning to look at his father. He stared into the king's eyes before slowly shaking his head, "No."

Lyonel suddenly planted his foot against Gregor's head. The defeated knight tried to lift his head, but once again found Lyonel's foot being brought down on his head. Lyonel stomped once again, finally knocking him out, before stomping again, and again. Before long, Lyonel had gripped the fence in the middle of the field as leverage and started stomping furiously at Gregor's head as the sound of his skull cracking and smashing filled the air. Everyone stared at Lyonel's brutality in shock. He kept slamming his feet on Gregor's head as his panted furiously. Lyonel stomped one final time, and Gregor's skull was crushed into a bloody pulp as blood and brains splattered the ground.

The silence was deafening as Lyonel let go of the fence. He turned around slowly, and looked at where Sansa was seated. She had a shocked and frightened expression. Lyonel was so glad Arya wasn't here to see him like this. He wouldn't be able to bear the look of fear in her eyes. Lyonel's eyes slowly wandered up to where his siblings sat. He ignored Jon as he saw Myrcella and Tommen's shocked expressions. Lyonel realized what he had done. It wasn't the fact that he murdered someone that filled him with shame. It was the fact that Myrcella and Tommen saw him doing it.

Lyonel looked away in shame. He turned to walk away from the field, and didn't look back.