Archagel9418: We'll soon find out

Master of Dragons God: It is a troubling business they're in

DannyMcDingles: With so many flaws it's struck me as rather odd that Bruce has never been so popular in people's reviews

Silver crow: Indeed it won't stop him

SimFlyer: We still have sometime to wait for the rematch unfortunately

just some guy:Even Tywin Lannister would be so cruel as to marry Bruce to a Frey

Saint River: Unlikely given this new chapter

raidensokwl: it's difficult times they live in

naleight: He was fond of Arya but not in the same way as he is with Margaery. Plus it would be difficult for him to love a girl who is presumed dead

Bruce

His head was aching again. It did it often now, ever since he had woken up in fact. Random bouts of sudden pain would render him near immovable to the point to which he could no longer stand. After a while the pain would lessen to the point were he could move again, but his head would continue to ache for the rest of the day.

He had gone to a maester about it but he had only been rebuffed. The maester had simply assured him that it was part of the healing process. Bruce didn't believe him. What was there left to heal? He would never be able to see out of his left eye again, his eye brow had started to grow back and the flesh which had beeen cut as far down as his cheek was already scarring.

Pycelle had offered the prince milk of the poppy but Bruce wouldn't take anything from the old man. Bruce had heard that Pycelle wouldn't treat Tyrion for his wound so why should he expect better treatment. Instead the prince had chosen a treatment which would have been more befitting his father. Wine did the job of dulling the pain and still kept him awake for the most part. Though since the moon had long risen Bruce was unsure if that was wise.

The summerwine was sweet on his tounge and kept the ringing his his head quiet as he sat in his chair. Across from him was his fire. The coals cracked and the wood spat sparks as the flames danced in circles beneath the hearth while smoke filtered through the room. Bruce was unsure how long he had been sat like that for he only knew he would have prefered better company than the wine flagon and his reflection.

The looking glass sat in his hand starring up at him and he glared back at his reflection. He had removed his bandages sometime ago and they now lay in a pile across the table the undersides slightly bloodied from when his eye had weapt. The irony was not lost on him that no matter where he moved the looking glass the closer the mangled unblinking eye seemed to follow him. When he had first looked at it his eye was more of a red pulp that would often weep blood and tears without cause. Now the eye was more brown and scabby to the point which it, still stung when he would prod at it, no longer would it be as great a pain and nor would it start to ooze blood.

He took a large swig from his goblet. His grandfather's promise hadn't fooled him. Loras would go free for as long as the Tyrell's were within the fold. If Loras was going to be punished it would have to be done in person. Loras would have to be drawn out of hiding, no amount of stags and roses could keep him safe once he entered the capital. Despite the new decorations, King's Landing was still a Lion's den.

Bruce thought back to when he had first met the Knight of Flowers. It had been Renly who had introduced them, Loras freshly knighted by his father and Bruce still the young foster to his uncle, wary of this strange, new, bed of roses, seemingly devoid of any thorns. Bruce had trained with many of the finest knights the realm had to offer but only Ser Loras could ever beat him more than once with anything: lance, sword, axe or spear. That didn't last long.

Bruce had spent near a hundred days trying to best the Knight of Flowers and despite every defeat he faced he would not submit. Loras had told Bruce he respected his defiance in the face of his better and while Bruce had thanked him for the compliment and proceeded to vault Ser Loras from his horse on their next joust. It was a feat which had impressed all the people of Highgarden and brought Bruce to the bed of Loras' sister.

Margaery.

Her name left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. He washed it down with more wine. Tyrion had told him that Lord Tywin had tried to give him her at least, it was that oaf she called a father and the spineless bastard Littlefinger that had taken Margaery away from him. His fist clenched around the goblet as he set it back on the table. He looked to the fire and smiled at how the flames danced around each other, he'd danced with Margaery like that once.

It had been her fifteenth nameday. Highgarden had been alive with dancing and feasting. Bruce had never been one for dancing but he had made an exception for her. His feet were sore and the souls of his boots had been turned wafer thin, but the way she smiled at him afterward made it worth it. He had taken her to his room that night, something they had never done before, it was always on a place of Margaery's choosing but that night he chose their battle ground and she had been most greatful for his choice of weapon.

Bruce frowned and drained the last of his wine. He had never told Margaery how he felt for her but somehow, he could feel she knew. He growled to himself. Joffery would never feel that way for her. Joffery wasn't born with a heart. Joffery couldn't love. Joffery could only hate.

The sound of his chamber's door opening drew Bruce out of his thoughts. He listened sharply for footsteps coming from behind him. When nothing could be heard he angled the looking glass to peer over his shoulder. From out of the shadows he could see a cloaked figure moving away from the door. Bruce picked up the bandages with his free hand and st them in place around his head. "Lord Varys," Said Bruce as he fumbled with knot at the back of his head, "I trust you sent the message."

As expected the eunuch stepped from out of the darkness and into the fire's light. "Indeed I did, My Prince." The Spider withdrew a hand from his cloak, "And I have a reply." Bruce held his hand out for the message, never bothering to look at the eunuch, instead he continued to stare into the crackeling fire. Varys laid the message in the prince's out stretched hand. Bruce's fingers curled around it but when his fingers met no parchment and instead met into a fist he finally looked at his hand.

Bruce's throat tightened when he saw the rose that had been put into his hand. He scowled at it and stood up. After he held it in between his fingers for long while, he finally addressed the eunuch, "Take me to her." Varys was taken aback by the prince's request, "I do not think that a wise choice, My Lord." Bruce's face quick turned into a snarl, "Either you take me to her, and no one need ever know. Or I charge in there and wake the whole of the Red Keep to find her." Bruce was unsure if he actually meant what he said but the eunuch felt he did as he pulled the black hood tighter round his head, "Follow me." Said the Spider as he began to leave the room.

Varys led the Crown Prince through a dozen different blackened corridors and empty passages. The castle was totally devoid of life, draped in the black cloak of night. The further on the eunuch led him the harded the grip around Bruce's heart became. Eventually, Varys led him to a narrow corridor. The walls were lined with various paintings on one side and a number of large windows that had moonlight streaming. Lord Varys went up to one of the paintings and drew his hand across it he then tried to pull on the frame. When it wouldn't budge he moved to the next one along, this was in full view of the moonlight. He gave a tug on the frame of the second painting.

The turning of rusting iron hindges gave way to the passage hidden behind the painting. Varys gave a quick motion of his head that gave the prince leave to enter. Bruce clambered through the frame and together, he and Varys followed the narrow tunnel through the blackness. Bruce held his hand against the wall to give him some direction of where to go.

The tunnel led them on into the dark. They moved down stairs and up, through the side of walls and behind tapestries. It seemed to go on forever until finally the eunuch placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder that haulted him. Varys motioned to a tapestry he held open and Bruce stepped out of the tunnel. Bruce looked around and recognized himself to be in the Maidenvault. The hallway was empty much like the rest of the Red Keep. A few torches were lit across the walls, they cast an orange glow on the green and gold patterns which now adorned this end of the castle.

Varys pointed out which door was the one to her chambers. "I trust you will be able to find your way back?" Asked the eunuch. Bruce gave a gentle nod and dismissed him as he stepped toward the door he had been pointed. When Bruce placed his hand on the door knob his stomach began to turn itself into knots. Was this a good idea? Had the wine gone to his head and brought him here? Should he knock? His head was rife with such thoughts, but he dismissed them, tightened his grip around the rose still in his hand and pushed the door open.

Her room was covered in deep greens and rich gold and candles cast a dim glow across the room. She knew he'd come, damn her. She sat writing letters near the window, brown-haired, slender and beautiful. Bruce looked at the rose and then back to her and flung it toward her. "It's been a long time since I recieved one these." She didn't look at him when she answered, "I didn't think you would take so long." She set down the quill and rose to stare out of the window.

Bruce didn't know what to do, if he should stay where he stood as his head told him to or move closer to her as he wanted to. He chose the former as he spoke, "Paitence and discretion are often needed when sneaking through the Red Keep." She continued to refrain from looking at him, "You were lacking both when we last met." She wasn't cold or scathing just stating fact.

Bruce's eye narrowed at the back of her head. "Look at me." He commanded. It took her off guard if nothing else. She stiffened slightly at his words but obeyed the order none the less. Margaery wore a simple green night robe to cover up her small clothes beneath. When she caught sight of the tattered linen wrapped around the Crown Prince's face the tips of her mouth dropped. "I'm sorry for what happened to your eye."

His jaw tightened at that, he didn't want an apology. "So am I." He said. Her look didn't change, she had been expecting it. 'I haven't changed that much then.' Thought Bruce as he watched the Tyrell girl walk round her table. He approached her now, slowly, testing the waters. She picked up a small box on the edge of the table, and turned back to face him.

"When I heard of your wound, I had this made." Margaery held out the box for him to take. He raised his eyebrow at the box and looked to her face for any notion of what it would be. When it became apparent her look would not betray her, he took the box from her hand and laid it on the table to open it.

The box itself was a simple wooden thing no intricate carvings or jewels engraved in the working. He opened the box to find it was lined with padded cotton. In the center of it was a folded piece of red cloth. "It would have been a nameday gift, but you had not woken." she told him sadly as he plucked it from the box.

He unfolded the red cloth to look more closely at it. Lined with golden thread and the words Hear me Roar! it was undoubtedly beautiful, but Bruce didn't understand it's purpose. Until he found the center piece of the workings. All the gold thread that trimmed the edges met in the center to form a golden cat's eye. 'No!' Bruce told himself, 'A lion's eye.' He laid the replacement eye back into it's box and close it, smiling. "Do you like it?" She asked him.

He wasn't entirely sure why he kissed her, it must have just been easier than saying thank you. Her lips felt soft againsts his and he smiled at the long lost feeling of them together like this. She pushed back against him lightly to bring her hands up to brush along his face. Bruce's head was spinning, be it from the wine or her. A wild thought suddenly struck him. She had expected him to come, she was in nothing but her night robe and small clothes and when he kissed her she did not push him away and throw him from her chambers. Could she... want what he did.

He broke away from her, breathless and panted out, "I... You... Can we..." She brushed her hand along the hairs that lined the prince's jaw and shook her head, "No." Her words cut deep into him further than Loras' sword had. "Why?" Her brown eyes bore into his green one longingly, "I'm to be the queen. It wouldn't be proper." A growl erupted in the back of the prince's throat. "I don't remember that being a problem in Highgarden."

She turned her head fom him. "This is not Highgarden. It's too dangerous." Margaery insisted. "It was dangerous in the Reach as well." He reminded her. She turned from him "We're not children anymore." He coiled his hands around her and drew Margaery back to him. "Which means we can be smarter about it." He pressed a daring kiss to the back of her neck, "I know this castle. I know a few secret passages that can bring me to here every night." That seemed to peak her intrest, "Every night?" He trailed a line of kisses up her jaw line, "Every. Night."

She shook her head and broke away from him. For a moment Bruce felt as though he had lost. "Not tonight." She told him and walked back to the window. "When?" Questioned the prince. She gave him a sly smile, "Eager?" She let out a small laugh when she saw the Crown Prince's cheeks turn a slighter deeper shade of red. "My grandmother arrives in the city tomorrow. She invited Sansa Stark to sup with us, come and see me then and I'll tell you." Bruce felt his heart swell at her words. He gave her a low bow, "Until the morrow then." She gave him a smile and a returned the curtsy, "The morrow."