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Chapter 2: A tale of Murders, Funerals and Arranged Marriages

=ASOSAT=

Part 6

=Durran=


Royal Camping site

Near the King's road

The Crownlands

"Is that the best you can do?" Jaime taunted me. The bloody bastard was smirking at me and waved cheerfully with his practice sword.

Right then and there I loathed the man. With almost unrivaled passion.

That had nothing on the hatred I felt directed at my weakness. I glared at the grinning bastard and jumped back on my feet. If I had access even to the smallest trickle of the Force, he would have been a smoldering heap of cooked meat. Instead, only a taunting void answered my building fury. There was nothing, not even a sliver of the power that have been defining my existence for nearly a century.

Only weak flesh and bone that were lacking.

I rolled to the right, picked up my practice sword and jumped on my feet, feeling every single bruise and scrape I got so far. My muscles screamed with strain, while my lungs were burning as I panted, trying to get enough air.

I was going to erase that smug grin from Jaime's face if it was the last thing I did.

"Oh, ready for more? Are you sure?" The bastard smirked.

I closed my eyes, steadying my breath. My sword arm trembled until I got it under a semblance of control. Getting my rage be anything but a distraction, was much harder.

I opened my eyes and smirked.

"You got lucky, uncle. Care to try again?" I taunted with confidence I didn't feel.

He frowned. "I haven't given you any reason for false bravado. Are you sure you didn't hit your head on something?" He waved at the clearing we used as a sparring mat.

"Nah, my head missed all the rocks." My body didn't and it bloody felt like it.

I stalked forward, gripping my sword lightly. As I was right now it was painfully obvious that I couldn't best Jamie in a sword fight. It was time to stop trying and kick his smug arse.

He shook his head and swung my way. His attack wasn't sloppy or anything like that, yet it was obviously that he wasn't taking our sparing boot seriously any longer.

I parried, the blade ringing in my hand. Did I mention that Jamie was a strong bastard?

Then I twisted my wrist locking our swords together. Then I moved closer, stepping within his guard. That finally surprised him. He reacted by trying to push me back, relying on his greater strength. It almost worked too. It would have if I didn't let go of my blade and sidestepped, barely evading the push that would have thrown me back.

He stumbled, however the damned smirk was still on his face. After all I was already unarmed and he knew I didn't have a knife on me, the only thing that should have given me a chance in this stage of the fight.

He continued smirking until I kicked him in the back of the knee and grabbed the wrist of his sword hand as he tried to backhand me with the pommel of his weapon. I winced. The bastard almost dislocated my wrist as I caught his arm. Nevertheless I ignored the stinging pain and delivered a quick succession of strikes on his shoulder, aiming at pressure points. It wouldn't have worked if he wore his armor. With him clad with only a light tunic appropriate for the warm weather, that was of no concern.

It was my turn to smirk, when his right arm went limp in my hand and he let his sword slip through his fingers. The look of pure shock on his face was priceless.

I kicked him again in the back of the knee and then moved behind him, grabbing Jamie in a headlock after planting a knee in his spine. He grabbed my left arm with his still working hand and tried to pry me off him. If it wasn't for my knee digging in his back he might have done it too. When I say that he was powerful, I do mean it damn him.

Some time later he stopped struggling and I let him go, then stumbled back. The adrenaline started leaving my system and I fell to the ground, panting with exhaustion. I barely heard someone's booming laughter to the right. It wasn't Marrek, who was supposed to be our only audience.

I rolled my head in the direction the sound was coming and groaned. Robert was right there, leaning on a tree and doubled over with laughter. Ser Baristan was next to him and I think that the old warhorse was smirking… His eyes however, they were studying me carefully.

Bollocks.

=ASOSAT=

"Not happening." I snorted. "I'm not getting anywhere near you with a sword until I'm much better."

Jamie, who was sitting on the ground and leaning on a nearby tree, glared at me.

"I'm not giving you a chance to get even. You handled me my arse more than enough earlier."

"Oh, this is priceless, Kingslayer!" Robert, laughed again at Jaime's expense. The King was sitting on a moss covered tree trunk, which somehow didn't fall apart under his bulk.

I glanced at the Kingsguard hovering to my "father's" right. "Ser Baristan can I officially request that you help me improve my swordsmanship? It's obviously lacking."

The old knight looked at me for a few seconds before nodding. "It will be an honor, my Prince."

"What I am, chopped liver?" Jamie grumbled. His voice was a bit raw after the choke-hold.

"One of the best swordsmen in the realm." I smirked. "That's why I finally had my fill of getting my arse kicked and decided to improvise."

Jamie glared my way. By now everyone in the camp knew that I actually managed to defeat him. Most people wouldn't care that it was a lot of luck combined with a training I shouldn't have and his short lived surprise that brought him low. Not something I could count on again. That's why I wasn't going to spar with him until he cooled down and I was much better.

While a long time ago I've been trained to fight with melee weapons, vibroswords to be precise, it was different. Even the I had the Force on my disposal, making me faster, stronger and tougher than ordinary human. Not to mention the other benefits of having her as an ally and tool. During the years I've grown to rely on her more than I realized, even if usually I carried gear that might save my arse if I got in a situation that I couldn't use it for one reason or another. After all, on the top of my head I knew of at least three ways to cut off someone from the Force. One of them was at least semi-permanent too.

The big difference here and now was my body. It was that of teenager. So while I did apparently have all my skills and training to rely on, my body was betraying me. My reach was shorter, something that would be fixed as I grew up. My speed was decent, but nothing to write home about. My strength… Well, it was what one might expect when you compare a lad of fifteen against a knight like Jamie. Even at the end, when I had him at disadvantage it was as much skill as luck that I managed to take him out.

That was a state of affairs that I couldn't let continue. It was a great way to get myself killed, by either an assassin's blade or in the wars that I knew were coming sooner or later.

So on top of all the other shit I had to deal with I would have to bust my ass in training. At least as a Sith I could use the Force so once I was at my peak, I didn't deteriorate physically and had to only train my Force abilities and lightsaber techniques. That was a great time-saver.

No such luck here. I was just an ordinary human again, kriff it all!

I glanced at the people who had gathered near the clearing. Robert, Jamie and there were Ned and Tyrion coming up. My trusted right hand Marrek was at my side as always, too.

"So My Lords and Sers, considering that we are almost back at the viper's pit, any last minute ideas?" I changed the topic. It wouldn't do for someone to start wondering how the hell I took down Jamie, beyond the obvious conclusion that I had the Seven's own luck. Ser Baristan was giving me thoughtful looks already and that was bad enough.

"We'll get a Small Council meeting in the morning after we arrive unless there is something critical. Then we deal with the outstanding issues and start investigating." Ned was the one to start the ball rolling.

"I guess I'll play the bored prince who wants to play with soldiers and start cleaning up the Gold Cloaks. I'm sure that Ser Marrek will hep with that." I nodded at my retainer who looked eager to face that challenge. "My Lord Hand, yours will be the funniest job." I smiled at Eddard. The poor bastard should have stayed back at Winterfell.

"Oh, yours will be fun enough, nephew." Tyrion grinned impishly, no pun intended. "All those maidens that will be vying to be your queen." He wagged his eyebrows my way.

"All those noble fathers Lord Eddard and my father would have to handle and appease." I shook my head.

"Bah, that's why I have Ned!" Robert waved the concern away.

Lord Stark had his patented grim expression on his face and simply nodded. He obviously wasn't thrilled at the prospect.

"Well, in this case I'll be doing my best to keep you celibate, my lord." Marrek smirked. "We can't have you getting some noble daughter pregnant and possibly pissing off everyone who's about to arrive in the Capital."

"There is that. No getting laid for me." I showed my best crestfallen expression for everyone to see, causing most of the people around me to laugh.

"There are always brothels!" Tyrion quipped to Ned's disapproval and Roberts loud cheer.

"That and busty serving wenches!" The King continued.

I should have kept my mouth shut on that topic. Those two weren't going to stop anytime soon.

=ASOSAT=

=Melisandre=


Dragonstone

Blackwater Bay

Melisandre was in her chambers, within the castle that once was the ancestral seat of the Targaryens. It was a fitting in a way, that the Warrior of the Light now called this place home, even if he himself didn't yet know the destiny laid in front of him by their god.

She smiled and knelt before a huge brazier that dominated the center of her room. The heat of the blazing logs warmed Melisandre's heart as she looked hungrily at the dancing flames.

The fire crackled, whispering a warning. A new shadow was rising.

Melisandre leaned forward. For a moment, her eyes became the color of the fire she loved so much. And she saw it.

It was a dark night upon King's Landing. Clouds obscured the light of the stars and moons, casting the Red Citadel in darkness.

Her viewpoint shifted. She was warping from one torch towards another, spying from the flames. There was a shadow stalking through the empty halls of the Citadel. A lithe, cloaked figure. Perhaps a woman or a youth in his teens. Melisandre's eyes narrowed at the figure.

He was touched by the darkness itself. She could make no distinguishing features through the flames she was spying from.

The figure reached a sturdy metal door guarded by a pair of Baratheon banner-men. Words were exchanged and they opened the way. The figure stalked in, paying no attention when the doors closed behind them.

=ASOSAT=

=Durran=


The Red Keep

King's Landing

The night after our arrival home, I couldn't sleep. So I went for a walk after grabbing the first set of clothes I could get my hands on and strapping my sword belt. Just in case.

I walked through the halls of the castle, meeting only the odd servant or a guard, who merely gave me a bow and went their own way. I felt restless, unable to stay in one place for long. So I walked, where my legs led me, while pondering what the hell was I doing in this fucked up world. If it wasn't for the knowledge that eventually there will be undead invasion and that there might not be anyone to stop it from killing everyone, because this was fucking Westeros of all places, I would already be in Essos. It wasn't like I much cared for those people with the possible exception of the few folks that I was fond of. At best.

Getting out of this mess would have been the smart thing to do. Hell, I had contingency plans leaning in that direction at any rate.

Little did I know at the time that my life was going to get much more complicated and interesting.

I ended in front of a pair of thick wooden doors which were reinforced with steel. Two of my father's sworn men were guarding the place, clad in mail armor and proudly carrying tabards with the Baratheon sigil. For a moment I wondered where the hell I ended up until my mind dredged up the relevant information. There was a weapon's collection behind those doors. Daggers mostly, if my memory was correct. Valyrian steel ones among them.

"Hi!" I smiled brightly at the banner-men. "I would like to see the collection you are guarding so diligently."

"Your Highness." The one to the right spoke and gave me a half bow, before he nodded to his buddy and they opened the doors.

There were some benefits to be the trice damned Crown Prince. No awkward questions or barring the way. Just a polite bow and getting out of my way.

I glanced in seeing that the room was dark. So I retrieved a torch from the wall behind me and went in, the men closing the doors behind me and leaving me in peace. Something for which I was grateful.

There were two rows of tables along the walls, with cases upon them. Each one had a glass lid, making so the contents could be seen. I went to the closest one and glanced in. There was a beautifully crafted hunting knife with a dragon-bone hilt, carved in the form of raven's head. My eyes went to the blade itself, which had the distinctive rippled pattern of a Valyrian steel.

I shook my head, the restless feeling was back in full force, and I looked around. It was as if someone was watching me, while remaining unseen. It was just a feeling, my other sensed could find no trace of other occupants in the chamber. In the good old days before I ended here, I could rely on either the Force or advanced tech to check if my senses were lying to me.

No such luck nowadays.

I shrugged and strode up the row of tables. The feeling became even stronger, while subtly shifting. It was… anticipation. Frowning I looked around. It was like almost feeling a whisper, quiet enough to make you wonder if the sound was there in the first place.

The restlessness returned, prompting me to continue with my walk. There was something just not right.

I shrugged, disregarding my nervousness. Probably the guards were talking about my visit and the door was muffling almost every sound their voices were making.

At the wall across the entrance, there was only a single table with one big case on it. I walked next to it and stared. There were four blades laid at forty five degree angle. Valyrian steel and dragon-bone again. Gorgeous and tasteful craftsmanship, which was very much irrelevant.

Right then I had eyes for only one thing. The blade of the hunting knife to the right. It had four symbols engraved at the back of its blade, going from the hilt up it's length. The rest of the weapon was a mere afterthought, the pommel shaped like a roaring dragon head, and the hilt guard ended with stylized talons were of very little interest right then and there.

All I knew was the symbols. I knew them very well. And they had no place being on this world.

My right hand moved on its own volition. My fist smashed the tempered glass, which gave me a long cut. That stopped me for a moment as I stared at the wound. A drop of blood fell on the blade, over the symbol closest to the hilt. It sizzled and was absorbed in the steel.

Before my mind could kick back into gear, my right hand had reached within the shattered case and my fingers closed around the dragon-bone hilt.

I drew a rasping breath and smiled. I could barely make an unintelligible whisper at the back on my mind. A cool wind blew through my whole being. Suddenly the world around me was a bit sharper, it had more color, it felt more alive.

The feeling that someone was watching me grew exponentially. I frowned and looked around. There was no one in the chamber, save for myself, the weapon collection and the flickering shadows thrown by the torch in my left hand. I glanced at the flames, which were flickering wildly. If I didn't know better, I would have though that they actually recoiled from me before settling down in a slow burn.

Whatever. I returned my attention to the naked blade in my bleeding hand, my grip tightening around it. Then I carefully placed it back on the velvet that had been its home for countless years.

It was hard, letting go of it. The moment it was out of my grasp, I felt less. The world was back to the dull sheen it had ever since I awoke in Westeros for the first time. The reality itself looked, felt somewhat diminished. The feather caress of the Force I just felt was gone as if it was never there.

My hand struck like a lighting, my fingers instinctively closing around the hilt of the knife and I breathed out a sigh of relief. It was back. So very weak and distant, yet it was back.

At that moment, everything was right in the world. No matter what my "accidental" discovery heralded for everyone on the face of Planetos.

=ASOSAT=

=Melisandre=


Dragonstone

Blackwater Bay

Melisandre recoiled back from the fire. For a brief moment she had been looking straight into two yellow eyes. And she finally understood.

"The night is dark..." She muttered. "… and I just saw the terrors within." Melisandre shuddered. "The Darkness that is coming to swallow the dawn..." Melisandre whispered. Until this moment she thought it to be the White Walkers and their undead servants.

Now, she was no longer sure about that. There was another shadow born into the world. Another, more immediate enemy.

She had to talk with Stannis. Had to convince him of the danger that now called King's Landing it's home. Because the night is dark and her deepest shadow rises to devour the light.