A/N: I told myself this chapter would be out by the Sunday right after Chapter 5. Unfortunately I never specified to myself which Sunday it would be it seems. Yeah lads sorry about the wait, what with all the things in real life being hectic I couldn't get to this in time and frankly this whole chapter has been cut by half in terms of length to be able to get it out when it does. I'll put it in more effort in the coming chapters so as to not keep people waiting but for now, please enjoy.
Chapter 6: Growing Strong
A stab, a swing, sidestep to the right and then another swing. Cregan repeated these four motions in an almost mechanical fashion over and over against his straw filled opponent. It was early in the morning, dawn had just breached across the sky and the Red Keep had just recently begun springing back to life. For Cregan however, he had been repeating this process for the past two hours.
He had gotten used to waking up early a long time ago, Garlan and his daily morning drills made sure of that. Yet, in all those years he had not subjected his body to the strain of recent days.
It had been a fortnight since their arrival in King's Landing, and tomorrow, preparations for the Hand's tournament will finally be complete. The atmosphere around the Red Keep and even in the city itself was notably lively, bright even. It was for that very reason he was so disturbed, and hadn't been able to sleep soundly since arriving at the capital. Night terrors, weren't the answer to his plight, nor was it the absence of fatigue. It was a feeling, one of discomfort he had noticed not so long ago, even before they had come here. Ever since noticing it however, that feeling of discomfort would often morph into annoyance, and that annoyance soon became anger.
Another strike and thrust towards the wooden training target, causing small puffs of straw to explode from every corner of the bag tied around the wooden post. With each swing however, more and more of that very same anger started to become reflected in his steps. The second swing pushed too far, the other thrust missed its mark, and finally topping it off he attempted lazily to move his legs to the right and swing once more, this time hitting the target dead on, yet the force caused the weapon to violently shake away from his hand, and launching it out of his grip.
"Seven Hells!" Cregan exclaimed with exhaustion, falling lazily onto the floor.
The hard cold stone managed to cool him off some from the crushing heat he was feeling in his body. It was nothing new, the work put into fighting a straw dummy was tiring to say the least, not to mention a good way to break a sweat. Yet the sight he would make were anyone else to see him would not befit someone of his stature, so Cregan pulled himself back off the ground with what little energy he still had left.
The cut on his forearm had begun to chafe again, 'A sign that it was healing.' said the old maester, yet he never knew healing to be so troublesome. Still, compared to the bruises of old he would receive back in Highgarden, this was nothing.
His thoughts quickly came back to that feeling, that damn spider crawling inside his head that would not let him sleep or be at peace. He fought many a time not to show it to father or his siblings, and especially not to Myrcella. 'They'll think I've gone mad from an infection most likely.'
His affliction was not in regards to his health, that much was clear from the very start. Yet why he was having so much trouble was the mystery Cregan had been asking himself for four long weeks now. In all regards, things were peaceful, there were no troubles. In spite of that however, the feeling remained. That sense of discomfort at nothing, of anger and frustration at the unknown. It tortured him to no end that it could not even be explained. Eventually, the headaches began, and yet another sickness had begun to plague him, one that proved an even bigger disturbance, one that would only be quelled when he could focus on something.
That was the real reason why he was here. 'Maybe if I just become too tired to function I'll grasp a touch of sleep.' he thought, and it worked for the most part. Yet the headaches would remain afterwards, as would that feeling.
Cregan sighed. There was no use troubling others with it. He was simply nervous about being in King's Landing, that was most likely it. The feeling would pass, the headaches would pass. And if not, he'll go to father about it. 'For now, I'll stick to beating the shit out of you.'
As he got up from the ground to pick up his training sword, he heard a rustling coming from the sides of the courtyard. Had the men-at-arms already come to practice? 'No, it's still far too early for that.'' he thought. Yet his question was soon answered by the small clump of auburn hair peeking out from behind a set of boxes.
"I suppose you think you're being sneaky, don't you?" Cregan said with yet another sigh.
Bran was quick to react, he had to give him that at least. But scurrying back behind the boxes did little to hide him from Cregan, in truth he might not have even noticed the lad were it not for Summer, sitting obediently beside the row of boxes and looking directly at Bran.
"Are you mad again?" Bran voiced himself meekly from behind the boxes.
"Why would I be mad?" Cregan answered with his own question, picking up the wooden practice sword and approaching the young Stark's cover.
"Because the dummy's bleeding faster than a pig with its throat cut." Bran peeked out, showing off those same steely blue eyes all the Stark children had.
"Very observant, I suppose Theon taught you that line?"
"Arya, she said some butcher's boy told her about it, how pigs bleed faster cause they've got bigger veins."
"That does sound like something Arya would ask about..:" Cregan muttered, sitting down on the front row of boxes. "Come on out Bran, I'll not whip you."
Summer was the far more receptive one to Cregan's request, walking up and sniffing his hands and proceeding to sit next to him. Bran seemed to train him well, the wolf was calm and quiet, always by his master's side and able to observe the world around him without getting distracted. All of the direwolves by this point were beginning to shape into their adult forms, and soon would begin growing far past what their places in the kennels would allow. Cregan couldn't help but wonder if the Queen would ever break on her more or less order to keep the direwolves well away from the Keep. Soon enough they would have their answer most likely.
Bran shortly followed behind his wolf, eventually finding a spot beside Cregan, sitting there defeated that his stealth mission had failed so miserably.
"Now, why are you up so early?" Cregan asked as he scratched Summer's ear.
"I could ask you the same…" Bran muttered.
"Don't try and smart your way out of this, Maester Luwin isn't here to save you once you get in too deep."
"I…" Bran stopped for a moment to ponder. "I heard you. You've been going out here for some time now, I just wanted to see why."
"Nothing better to do, eh?" he could see the nod from his little brother an ocean's away. "I can't say I blame you. King's Landing is a city bustling with life, as is the Red Keep. But it seems that doesn't extend to us, we're too important for the courtiers, too royal for the guards, and too noble for the servants." Summer quickly jumped back to his master's side, to which Bran scratched the wolf under his chin. "What about Lord Renly, have you been doing well as his squire?"
"I have… at least that's how he tells me. He's very patient with me."
"You're young Bran, and never even squired, it's good to make mistakes. However, there's a line for everything, those mistakes will only mean something if you learn from them. And it doesn't matter how patient someone is, everyone's patience wears thin eventually, so don't use up too much of Renly's goodwill." Bran listened to his lecture intently, yet it was clear he was ready to say something the moment Cregan had finished his sentence.
"You sound just like father." the young Stark chuckled.
"Yes, that's what Sansa tells me as well. King Robert is not want to remind me either." upon the thought of being a squire for the King again, Cregan immediately began to slump. In some ways, these past few weeks had made him understand why the Queen always looked at Robert with such disdain for his actions.
"How has it been, being King Robert's squire?" Bran immediately perked up once the conversation began to be about squireship, yet it was the mentioning of Robert's name that really livened him up.
"I'll not lie to you, little brother. It has been far more than what one would expect, sometimes I ask myself if knighthood is worth it if this is what one must go through."
"That bad?"
"Worse, but if I start now we would be here till dusk, so best to leave it at 'Not very fulfilling'. What about your training, has Renly begun teaching you how to fight?"
"No." Bran answered simply. "He says I should first learn from watching him, so I don't get hurt during sparring."
"You'll get hurt regardless, that's the point of sparring."
"That's what I said, but he just laughed me off." The boy gave his direwolf another scratch on the head. "It's not all bad though. He let me ride his horse once, says I'm a natural."
"Good lad. However, the weapons training is something you will have to push for I believe. Renly seems to think father won't allow you to be hurt."
"If I get hurt…"
"Overconfidence will get you hurt faster than any training session."
"I know, I know." Summer laid his head on the boy's lap while Bran continued to stroke the thick brown furs of the direwolf. "When did you start training brother?"
"Me?" Cregan pondered on it for a moment, laying a hand on his chin. "It was a year after I arrived in Highgarden I believe. The second eldest son of Mace Tyrell, Garlan, took me under his wing as a sort of half-squire you could say. I must have been just a bit younger than you at that point, but I'll never forget the first time Garlan knocked my tooth out."
"Really?" Bran once again perked up, though Cregan wondered if it was because of the mention of Garlan or because of Cregan being hurt. "And you weren't scared?"
"Oh no, I was terrified. Every time I went there my legs and hands would shake so much Garlan would always ask me if I brought a cold with me instead of my sword." he pointed to his nose, bent and scarred so many times Cregan still wondered how it worked so well. "My tooth was the least of worries when it came to our training sessions. But every time I would go there, I would come back with a new bruise, yet with those bruises came lessons."
"And?"
"And soon enough I started to get bruised less often. I took his words to heart, I learned. Then, on my thirteenth name day, we went out into the courtyard. And I beat him." The gleam in Bran's eyes was unmistakable; one would not be remiss to mistake him for a lighthouse right now, with how much he was shining with excitement.
"You beat Garlan Tyrell?"
"Oh yes, and soundly so if you were to ask anyone there that witnessed it that day. Though, if you ask me, I believe he let me win."
"What? But that's not fair; a true knight would never let someone win just like that." Bran immediately deflated at the suggestion.
"I always wonder what you and Arya see in all of Old Nan's stories. Besides, there's nothing wrong with letting someone win, even if it was out of pity or some sort of strange lesson." Cregan's eyes couldn't help but wander into the scar still clearly visible on his forearm.
Bran himself was not so blind so as to not notice his brothers look of discontent. "Is that why you let Joffrey win? Because you felt sorry for him, or wanted to teach him a lesson?"
"I suppose I should be surprised…" Cregan murmured, in truth he was more tired, the exhaustion was finally setting in, and yet the day was only beginning. "Arya told you, I assume?" he asked, to which Bran nodded simply. "Well, it's not like I have tried to hide it much."
"So why did you do it?" Bran pressed further on his original question.
"For my own reasons." Cregan answered. "And because I knew what the alternative would have looked like." the wooden sword had its blade pointed towards the cobble they stood on; it wasn't much longer than the stick Cregan had used against the prince.
Speak of the devil however and he shall appear, with his loyal dog behind him. Joffrey very noticeably appeared into the courtyard from the entrance, his red linen robes shining amid the sun's peeking gaze. Behind him stood the Hound, Sandor Clegane, adorned by his signature black steel and helm. The differences between the two were palpable to say the least, and it seemed Joffrey at least knew the leverage he could pull just by the sight of Clegane at his beck and call. Cregan shuddered at the implication then when he realized the prince was heading right towards them.
"It's-" Bran called out yet Cregan was quick to stop him.
"I know, stay quiet and by my side. Keep an eye on Summer as well."
The Stark brothers both stood up in unison, exchanging gaze's with the two persons approaching them respectively. Joffrey smirked and slightly raised his head while the Hound remained still as the grim statue he was.
"I would wish you a fine morning, good-brother, yet it appears you've started your day rather early. A good morning to you as well, Bran." Joffrey announced more than he spoke. He didn't know what was more grading, Joffrey's true poisonous nature or the visage of courtesy he would rarely prop up. But King's Landing was not a place where words could be exchanged lightly, so Cregan would play the game as best he could.
"Greetings your Grace, Ser Clegane. I would enquire as to how and why you both are up so early yet from my brother's testimony I fear I may have woken up the entirety of the Red Keep." The mention of Clegane's presence made Joffrey lift a brow and the Hound himself shifted his weight for a moment, causing a quick clicking sound in his armor. 'Everyone sees you, they fear you most likely. Which is why when you're with Joffrey they don't acknowledge you, to make themselves look more relaxed and affable.'
"Of that you need not worry, good-brother. Like you no doubt, I myself have had some trouble sleeping and find that a fine stroll around the Keep helps clear my head." his words taken at face value had no special meaning to them, yet it seemed Joffrey inherited his mother's sense of coating his voice with an air of poison. "Just like it seems you enjoy tearing up defenseless heaps of straw. Strange, I did not ever think of you as a violent man."
"Violence is the last thought I have in mind when training, your Grace." Cregan leaned the sword on his shoulder, putting his free hand on his hip. The sleeves of his shirt were well folded to expose the scar Joffrey had given him all those weeks ago, and he made it sure that the Prince could see it well. "You could say I had reached an epiphany of sorts after our last… conversation back at the Ruby Ford."
"And what would that be?" Joffrey had seen it as clearly as Cregan meant to, there was no doubt about it, just as there was no more reason to hide the open secret of their little duel, he was just waiting for him to admit it.
"That if I ever wish to fulfil the expectations set for me as a Stark of Winterfell, I should at least know how to carry a weapon properly."
"Hah! Indeed, you should. I will not lie; your display of combat prowess back in the Riverlands was sloppy to say the least." The lie was so well crafted Cregan could see even Joffrey believed it a little bit, but it was a lie nonetheless, one that would help fuel the Prince's pride further and hopefully keep him away from Cregan's siblings.
"Indeed." play along for the game; play along for your life. "And so afterwards you could imagine my surprise when King Robert himself wished for me to be his squire, and not only him, but Lord Renly as well. Why, it served to wake me up more than a bucket of ice water to the face."
"Then I commend you. Though you may never come to surpass me or the dog here, your determination shall make you a fine knight no doubt."
"My thanks for your words of encouragement, your Grace. However, I do have a question of my own, if you will permit."
"I shall, since you have been so willing to answer mine own." he waved his hand leisurely whilst inspecting the damaged dummy left behind by Cregan's outburst.
"Why are you here?" the game could not be played forever, and it was clear from Cregan's tone that any sense of polite conversation may just be thrown aside. He could only endure so much venom encrusted courtesy for so long.
Joffrey's smile faded, and for a moment it seemed he was ready to sick his Hound on Cregan. He chipped a crack in the little Stag's pride, one does not question the Prince's motives it would seem. But soon that same smile returned, filled with even more contempt than before.
"To apologize." Joffrey said simply, crossing his arms as if he had just won a bet. Cregan's eyes couldn't help but both widen and narrow consecutively. "I realize that my behavior was rather… untact, for someone of my noble standing. It was beneath me to challenge a lowly peasant, and for mine own mistakes I had harmed my sisters own betrothed in the process. So, Cregan Stark, you have my sincere apologies." the words being spoken by the Prince felt like they were coming out of a different person, and no doubt they were as it was so rehearsed he expected a mummer's quartet to come out any moment.
"While I believe apologies are unnecessary..." the sudden shock made Cregan begin playing on the defensive again. He wasn't sure what this conversation would entail now, he wasn't sure before even yet not he was utterly baffled. "I thank you, your Grace. For giving me the benefit of the doubt."
Joffrey huffed and clasped his hands behind his back. "I've not only come for that however."
'And there it is…' he thought.
"You see, good-brother, my father believes that I should put more effort into matters of martial study, just as you have been doing these past few… days? Weeks? I do not know. And so, I thought, who better to learn these things I believe I am already quite qualified for than alongside someone who has no idea of even the basic concept of it."
Whatever goodwill Joffrey may have built up with that apology of his, it drained faster than if they were speaking in a sewage canal. Cregan stood still as stone, and contemplated. On the implications of this, of the hidden intent, of the machinations that were going on behind the curtains no doubt. There was too much to consider, and it was clear from Joffrey's gaze that he expected an answer immediately, and rejection was well off the table.
"I would be honored to, your Grace. Training by one's self, I have been told, is only a way to instill one's own faults further."
"Excellent." the Prince quickly performed a clap of his hands, yet his tone showed no signs of excitement, it was clear this was not his idea. "We shall not be alone, my father has instructed that senile old man Selmy to oversee our training. We begin at first light tomorrow, do not be late." and as quickly as he arrive, Joffrey and the Hound left the courtyard, leaving Cregan and Bran alone once more.
The courtyard fell silent, with only the life above them and beyond being heard. Yet after a few moments Cregan felt a tug from behind. Bran looked at him confused yet afraid, his curiosity still unmatched however, the young boy still asked.
"Are you really going to train with him?"
"It seems I've no choice in the matter, little brother." just like the Ruby Ford, Cregan would have to play to the whims of the Prince, yet even now he can feel the vultures begin to gather around. If he does not play this game well, those same vultures may just begin flying closer.