Hello everyone, apologies for being over a month late on the update. I've had a lot of things happen in the last two weeks and none of them were any good.
So I got a couple things to say about many of the things said negatively about the last chapter. Firstly, an apology again because I mislead people to stick with reading it by giving them a false hope that something was going to change after chapter 30 that made it so that Dany wouldn't be subjected to Drogo. I didn't realize that by doing it the way I did was wrong.
Secondly, to those that assumed that the romance was just a giant side piece that meant nothing in the end if Jon and Dany are just going to split. If that was your genuine take on the past several chapters that focuses solely on those two characters I spent 8 months working on with 3 different authors, all of whom are serious Jon/Dany writers, then you did nothing but skim the hard work we all put into it if you believe this is the end. I'm doing things my way as you'll see again in this chapter so if it's not some "Give all" fic you were wanting without any kind of suspense, pain, or consequences, then I gladly say farewell.
Thirdly, to those who left a rant to declare they were leaving, only about two of them have been constant commenters and the rest have never said anything so I never knew you were there in the first place. And if you are one of those on the off chance, called it.
Alright, that's enough of that for now. but I do got a few other announcements on the positive side.
For those of you who remember that I am a swordsmith IRL, I've just begun work on making a shortsword in the same process that Tommy Dune, the weaponsmith for GoT, did in the show and holy crap it's been nerve wracking. But it is all a warm up for doing my own design for Longclaw and it shall be glorious!
Secondly, I got the great chance to volunteer to be on the Skyros Project for Skyrim, a Game of Thrones Mod on epic proportions. For those of you who are hearing of this for the first time, check out this link. I can't post links on this site so if you go to Ao3 you can find it there.
Thirdly, I got the chance to meet with Priestess of Groove who is also a member of Skyros and she hooked me up to be on the Writer's Block podcast on the 30th this month. again, i can't post links but you'll find it on Ao3
well that is certainly enough out of me. I'm sure many of you are saying get on with it at this point so we shall
Jaime
It felt good to be back. The smell was still unpleasant, but aside from that and a few other things, King's Landing was much more fitting for Jaime than the North. It didn't feel so empty or isolated.
He rode straight to the Red Keep ahead of Joffrey's party, beating them by an hour. Hopefully that would give Cersei enough time to come to a reasonable mindset on dealing with their son.
The moment his horse galloped under the open portcullis and into the yard of the castle he hopped off and paced fastly to Barry the steward who was patiently waiting for him.
"Ser Jaime, welcome back to the Red Keep," Barry greeted with a nervous grin, "We only heard of your arrival just recently. I'm sure your father, the Lord Hand, would have prepared a better host to receive you had you sent earlier notice."
"Yes, I'm sure." Jaime rolled his eyes and looked up at the towers. In the tower of the hand, on the balcony of the Hand's solar, he could barely see a figure in red clothing looking down at him, no doubt with a frustrated glare.
"I have an urgent need for an audience with the Queen. Where is she?"
"Ahem," Barry cleared his throat and a few beads of sweat forming were just about ready to run down his face, "her grace is currently with the King for their private affairs."
Robert was fucking his sister right now, wonderful. "I'll see my father then."
"Of course, Ser. Right this way." Barry led Jaime as an escort into the Red Keep. Nothing changed since he left. All the decor was the same, the household was lazy, and the castle guard more half-ass than mules.
They climbed the stairs to the tower of the Hand until they finally reached Tywin Lannister's new home. How his father longed to return to these chambers to a King he could control. How ironic that Robert was the last kind of man to be controlled but so lazy to be a King that he practically gave his crown to the Lord of Casterly Rock.
"He's expecting you," Barry said before scurrying off.
Jaime took a deep breath. He hadn't seen his father in so long that he had forgotten the imposing presence of the Lion. If Tyrion were here, it would be the perfect time to make a bet for what order of discussions were to happen. His money would be on a dull greeting, scolding for the tourney, something too hard to counter, and then finally a postponement.
The door opened smoothly yet it felt heavy to push. He never visited this room since Aerys ruled. Who was the last Hand for the Mad King? Was it Rossart or Chestled who had the office lost before the war ended? He couldn't remember that well, he didn't care to. Regardless, he remembered the room a mess with everything Aerys Targaryen shoved aside that he didn't deem grand or worthy enough for his attention. But here with his father in charge, it was perfectly organized and orderly.
Jaime witnessed his father cross the solar to a small end table with of silver pitcher chaste with gold and poured wine into one cup of equal detail and beauty.
"You look better than I expected after enough years in the North." Lord Tywin took a generous sip of wine, a Dornish Red by the look and smell. "I expected a beard and boiled leathers. But here you are, just as you left."
"Is that a compliment?" Jaime asked with folded arms.
"An observation, nothing more. I had wrinkles already at your age."The Hot springs were to thank for that. Lord Tywin took another drink, not as much as the first taste. "How is your squire?"
"He's lucky he won't be a cripple like the Tyrell heir. Why the interest?"
"He's my granddaughter's betrothed and my son's student. Why should I not be interested? If he died it would have been a terrible wound on us. The Starks are the House without an agenda to get into the crown like the Martells and the Tyrells."
"And the Tyrells won that race. But that was thanks to Jon Arryn's failing duties. Or did you have some part in that yourself?"
"You think I didn't? It's no hidden detail they want their place in the Red Keep. I made sure they think they are in control of finding their way in."
"Of course. The Starks won't take kindly to Clegane's attempted murder of their son. And the North won't forget it either."
"And from what I heard, you made sure Clegane didn't forget either."
"Are you mad?"
"I don't need him pretty, I need him able to do his job. I didn't expect he would try something so stupid."
"That wasn't Clegane's idea, it was Joffrey's. He ordered the match to go as it did. Except Robb wasn't supposed to live."
"And that's why you're here? To make sure he gets a scolding from the right person?"
"You know he won't let this go and neither will the Mountain."
"I will deal with Ser Gregor. Perhaps you should consult the King to deal with his son as he's the only one Joffrey will listen to. I've already been preparing reprimands for the Starks. A new horse for Robb Stark and anything I might offer."
"I can take care of that if you would allow it."
Lord Tywin raised a single brow of curiosity. "Oh?"
"I owe a debt to a local smith and I thought of a perfect way to repay it. I'll need some money though."
"Whatever the cost, consider it paid. But a smith's work and a new steed won't be enough to to appease the anger of Northmen. I've sent a summons to Tyrion in Old Town. He'll be meeting with you in White Harbor for Winterfell to make a formal apology in my place."
"Still afraid of the Starks?"
Tywin glared at Jaime for testing him. "I've never feared them. I have full confidence I could meet with them. But the bannermen on the other hand are more rash and angry then their leader already is. I'd find a disloyal lord's arrow in my chest the first hour I enter that frozen wasteland."
"And Tyrion won't?"
Tywin brought the cup to his lips. "Smaller target's are harder to hit." he drank deeply and Jaime looked away from him for the time after. All of these things they do to spite the other. When would enough be enough? "He secured the mining deal, he can secure his safe passage. But tonight, you'll be helping me decide how to appease the Starks."
"It won't be easy. They tolerate me just enough because they love Myrcella and hate the rest of our family. It's going to be worse now that Ser Gregor did as the dog was told. Or do you plan to announce it was Joffrey's idea?"
"Why ask what you already know?"
Jaime shrugged. "To make conversation?"
"If I wanted pointless conversation, I'd have your brother or sister here instead."
"Have you no faith in your own children?"
"If they serve their family's needs then they will have it. With Joffrey and Myrcella wed, our reach will go as far to the North and the Reach. When Tommen and Cersei's next come of age, we can add two more-"
"What did you just say?" Jaime interrupted.
Tywin turned to him. "You haven't heard? I would have expected Tyrion to let you know first. The King and Queen are expecting another child. She's four months along."
Jaime felt his blood freeze into ice. He couldn't move, but more than that he couldn't show how much this affected him especially in front of his father. "Four months? Four months and not a damn word from anyone? Myrcella would have told me." Anyone else would have questioned how the fuck the North hasn't heard of this, but they kept to themselves so much it was a miracle they knew the other kingdoms existed.
"Cersei wants to surprise Myrcella if the wedding can happen before the birth. But if time does not favor then she will send for her and we shall happily receive her." Tywin wandered to his desk and sat down. "We'll speak more after supper. I'm sure you wish to see your sister."
"I was told she's occupied with the King when I arrived."
"And by now their activities are usually done. Usually. Now go on." Tywin's attention turned to a scroll with a stamp of a bear on it. It almost looked like the Mormont bear.
Jaime had nothing else to say to his father so he took his leave. He was glad Tyrion was not here or else he would have lost his gold. No overpowered remarks? This was a first for Tywin. Perhaps something was accomplished today vital to the family.
Jaime wasn't sure whether or not to hurry and find Cersei or take his time in case Robert wasn't finished with her yet. He decided a slow walk was best as he descended the Tower of the Hand.
When he reached the bottom, at the entrance to the throne Room, he witnessed Petyr Baelish and Renly conversing amongst themselves before they noticed him.
An amused smile grew on the corners of Renly's mouth. "Well, well, well, the Kingslayer indeed returns. Has Ned Stark converted you to the trees or does he sleep in the fancy kennels with his wolves?"
"It's good to see you too, Renly. Shame about missing Ashford. There were many maidens with roses waiting for you."
Renly's smile twitched. Only a few knew of that sword swallower's affection for the Knight of Flowers and they all knew it was too easy to poke at his ego with that knowledge.
"I heard it was quite eventful. You squire near death. What would one expect going against the Mountain, especially a bumbling greenboy of the North. But you know how things are, a student is only as bad as his teacher. Are you purposefully training him wrong as a joke?"
"I'm sure you would perform ten times better than him. You always rehearse for days in front of a mirror for your performance. What a grand and amusing show you could have put on for us all. The Mummers of Braavos would be put to shame."
"Good friends," Baelish interrupted, "I believe we have all had quite strenuous days behind us. Why not freshen up with some wine and save these amusing stabs at another for tomorrow?"
"Sounds perfect. I'm sure Ser Jaime needs to see the queen if Robert's done slamming his spear into her." Renly laughed as he walked off.
Baelish came up to Jaime. "It's easy to insult the common order of things when he dreams of Flower Knight in Robert's place and himself in the Queen's."
"I think Renly would have it the other way around. Loras looks more of a woman than he does."
A small laugh escaped the Master of Coin. "I've heard of him being mistaken as a twin to Margaery. I've also heard she enjoys the same sex as well."
"Maybe she should have married Robert then. He'd have whores by the dozen join them."
"You'd be surprised how few occurrences happen when the King seeks the warmth of a wench or a prostitute. I've lost my best patronage to the greatest competition in the city."
"And who's that?"
"The one he's finishing with right now."
One of these days Jaime would find enough reason to castrate that pompous flesh peddler. Nothing would humiliate that quill neck more.
"It must be a difficult time for you, with the prince's game nearly getting out of hand."
"You know about that?"
"I, Lord Varys, and yourself. Although I assume your father knows as well now."
Jaime said nothing and simply turned away. It made no difference if he answered him or not. Baelish had almost as many spies as Varys, what with his network of whores. No doubt he also knew the reason for what had led to Joffrey's pride being wounded by a simple turn of phrase.
"And the King knows nothing of this yet?" Jaime asked.
Baelish showed the first sign of unease. "None of us are brave enough to be the messenger. But I suppose that is why you're here."
He couldn't stop his involuntary snort. "I killed the Mad King in this hall, but that's never made me Robert's favorite."
"I never said you were. But you are the warrior among us. Your chances fair better. My only worries go out for the prince and tantrum his actions will incur from his grace. I suppose the only mercy is that the realms will never know the prince attempted to kill the son of the King's best friend."
The truth to those words tasted like the city smelled. The crown couldn't allow such a scandal to be known. Someone would call for blood. Years ago Jaime wouldn't have cared about what truth was real and which lies cloaked themselves as such, but not this time.
Baelish smirked and turned his sights to the Iron Throne. "It's quite strange," Baelish began as he slowly stepped towards the throne, "it's looked far cleaner ever since your father claimed the position of Hand. A few people think his influence will turn the iron to gold when the King's heir is ready to sit upon it. Nothing less for the blood of House Lannister."
"My father's no alchemist. The thing's hideous enough already."
"Hideous?" Baelish with such a curious look that unsettled Jaime's nerves more than usual. "For one who has sat upon the seat itself, you still only look at this flawed hulking shape as the throne. The real beauty is the symbol within. It's the presence that gives weakened knees to all who try to stand before it, the symbol that the Targaryens killed each other countless times over for. The beauty, Kingslayer, is the power to change reality by word itself, to hide the misdeeds and evils of friend and family. How many lies make our history because of a King's command? That kind of power is what drives a king mad enough to murder thousands to keep."
Jaime stared down at the Master of Coin. This word games of his, he didn't care a single shit for them. But they gave him unease he couldn't shake. He looked to the Iron Throne. The enormous monstrosity loomed over the entire hall of the Throne Room. The left side is just a jumble of melted swords almost on simple knick away from collapsing. "Well I'm glad it's not you up there then, Baelsih. The gods know what a whore seller would decree. City-wide orgies and women to bear breasts every hour of the day?"
"Hah!" The King laughed. Jaime and Baelish both looked to see King Robert entering the room with Ser Aerys Oakheart at his side. For a brief instant, Jaime felt disappointed seeing the King's shape. Word made it seem like he got as fat as Wyman Manderly but those rumors were false. For his age, the King was in fair health. "As fun as that sounds, the streets would be muddy of shit and cum. The city reeks enough as it is."
"Indeed, your grace," Baelish bowed with a smirk. "I will await you in the small council chambers," he said before setting off in a brisk pace. But wasn't the small council meeting just over? Since when did Robert attend them?
"Now why the fuck are you here, Kingslayer?" The King asked. "Is my daughter too much to look after now?"
"Your grace, I come on behalf of her and myself. There was an incident at Ashford."
"Oh yes, I heard about that. You carved up the Mountain for besting your squire. I thought Tywin's golden son was more than a sore loser. Pisses me off that I didn't go myself. I would have loved to watch that. The capital's become such a drab these days."
Everything always had to be a game for Robert. "Standing by and doing nothing is beneath me when my squire is almost murdered."
"Hm?" Robert's mood suddenly shifted. It was not concern, but growing anger. "Say that again."
"Was that not passed along as well?" Jaime asked. "The Mountain tried to kill Robb Stark and he nearly succeeded."
The King's fury immediately showed. "Seven fucking hells! Does your bloody father have no control over that brute? Stark will want his head now."
"My father is sorting things out. Ser Gregor was heavily drunk before the ride. That is what the realms will believe I suppose. But what they don't know, won't know, is why I am here in the first place. It was Prince Joffrey who ordered the failed attempt on Robb Stark's life."
"Joffrey!? What ensued this?"
"I believe it was because Robb Stark pointed out the prince calling his own self a weakling with a turn of phrase."
"And that's it!? Where is he!?" He turned to Ser Aerys. "Find my son and get his little ass here now!"
"He hasn't returned yet, your grace." Ser Aerys informed.
"And that's an excuse? Ride out and get him here, now!" Robert shoved Aerys away, Jaime's sworn brother taking off into a sprint. "And you…" he growled at Jaime, "keep your squire out of tourneys, you dumb shit. You clearly failed to teach him enough." He pushed Jaime aside on his way to the Small council chambers.
Fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut. Betraying Joffrey like that would upset Cersei. But if he said nothing then it would betray Myrcella. Why did he have to choose?
Jaime stode alone in the Throne Room, only the Iron Throne keeping him company. He looked back at the damn thing once more. He could see perfectly the image of Aerys Targaryen sitting atop it.
'Bring me your father's head so I may cast it into the flames of the city! We'll turn it all to ash! Burn them! Burn them all!'
A ray of sunlight reflected a dull glimmer off the blades. Jaime almost thought he could see some of the metal still stained red with the Mad King's Blood that dripped off his sword the day he failed his real king.
He left the presence of the throne almost immediately. Being near it again, especially alone, made him feel like shit. There was something of Aerys that still lingered in the Throne. He could feel it. That Iron Throne had a pair of eyes that judged him every day like everyone else did.
Now that Robert was busy shouting loudly in the small council room, Jaime had his chance to see Cersei again. Three years. Gods, being without her burned him deeply to his core. There wasn't a night that went by that he didn't think about her.
But now she was pregnant with Robert's brat. If he had known from the start, would he have tried to forget her for this… betrayal to him? They promised each other that they would be the only ones for them. No one else would get in the way of that, no one.
He passed by some of Cersei's handmaidens on the climb to the Holdfast. Hopefully they had just finished with her. When he got to the door, he found himself at a pause. Did he really have it in him to see her, to face her?
He didn't care. He pushed through the door.
When he laid eyes on his sister, he never forgot her beauty or noticed the changes since they were together last. But that bump in her stomach turned his beautiful sister into… something he couldn't get close to. To him, the little whelp in her was a great betrayal, not like the first one, the one she lost. Robert hardly batted at eye at the stillbirth and all of those fucking nobles whispering gossip that Cersei's hips were hardly gold, but led gilded in it.
It was because of that loss they made the decision to fall into each other again, to love, and to bring their own child into the world. And after the birth of Joffrey, they kept on going. As long as they were together like they always have been since their mother's womb. They were lions and they belonged together.
"What are you doing back?" Cersei asked. "Is Myrcella with you?"
"No," Jaime said flatly, "she's staying by her betrothed's side as he recovered from an attempted murder by the Mountain per Joffrey's order." He took a deep breath, not realizing he said it all in the previous one. "That's why I'm here."
Cersei didn't even flinch at the news. She wandered over to a chair and sat down. Her fingers looked itching for a glass of wine right now. "That's nonsense. The Mountain was drunk before his ride. That is what I heard."
"And that's what the realm will know except for the Starks. You really think they'd believe such horseshit?" Absolutely not since he fed some of the truth to the children, an act that he regretted.
"I am the Queen. If I say the Mountain was being a dumb drunk in a game then that's what happened."
"Fine," Jaime scoffed, "But I need you to deal with the truth with me, right now."
Cersei looked at him with a glare he recognized, one that she gave anyone who dared to attempt to lecture her. "That Stark runt must have tried something to hurt him. Joffrey knows never to let those kinds get away with even the slightest."
"It was a simple turn of phrase, that's all. Joffrey can't argue to win a copper."
Cersei scowled. "Those who insult the crown are at fault when facing their penalty."
Jaime didn't want to push Cersei too far with this, he didn't have any better options. "And what about Myrcella? Have you ignored the letters she sends?"
"Never," Cersei hissed.
"Then you know how much she loves Robb. Cersei, when she saw him fall, when she saw him screaming, I've never been more afraid for her. I saw the same fear in her eyes that I saw in yours when mother died."
It struck a chord in her. Cersei's fingers curled during a sharp inhale.
"She knew it was Joffrey, Cersei, before I did, she knew. She slapped him to his knee."
This surprised Cersei more than the rest. "My little girl… the North's turning her into wildling!" She slammed her fist on the table and the force shook her chalice to tip over, spilling her wine. "I won't have this any longer. I'm taking her back."
Cersei moved to stand but Jaime placed his hand on her shoulder and kept her sitting. "If you do then she'll only resent you for this."
Cersei swiped his touch off of her. "You favor the Starks over me? How could you?"
Jaime's jaw tightened to hear that kind of accusation. He had respect for them, but he would always put his family above all others. "I favor our daughter over them," he muttered quietly.
Cersei breathed easier and raised a hand covering her brow, hiding her eyes from Jaime. "And when she's married? When your orders take you away from her? Who will protect her then?"
"The squire Joffrey tried to kill. His desire to be strong is for her, his family, everyone he loves. That kind of strength in its prime will be the best in all the Seven Kingdoms for Myrcella. But he's not prepared for the knives behind his back and the vipers slithering closer. If you truly want what's best for Myrcella then you need to get Joffrey in order."
Cersei's hand fell to her lap and she kept her gaze away from her brother. "I'll speak with him tonight. He will learn."
The words did not inspire confidence in Jaime. But he trusted his sister's love for Myrcella enough that she would do something to help. Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, they would find themselves alone among each other if they didn't put family first, just like Jaime was told hundreds of times.
Joffrey did not display any sign of desire for education of maturity at Ashford. "I hope you're right…" his eyes drifted to the bump of Cersei's belly, "because gods know if he doesn't change, that next one you're having will not last long."
Cersei stood fast and swiped a hand across his face. The slap was loud and the emotion it held struck harder than the skin. He knew he crossed a line.
He didn't rub at his cheek when he looked at her again. "You promised me that there would be no one else but us in this world. No one except our children."
Cersei sucked her teeth at him and sat back down with a hand softly rubbing her bump. "Three children you shall have. Gold will be their crowns. Gold will be their shrouds. No matter how hard I try, I can never forget the witch's words."
Jaime had the urge to throw his arms up. "That woman was as mad as Aerys. I never believed those words but you did. You betrayed me."
"I need to know they are just words! They drive me mad the nights I long for my daughter. I need to know!" her voice sounded shaken at the end, enough that it washed over Jaime's anger at her.
He knelt besides her and rested a palm over hers. "But why not me? You are the only woman I want in this world."
"Robert's been… different. There used to never be a night he didn't bury himself between a whore's legs. But ever since he defeated Balon Greyjoy he's changed. That attempt on his life did something. And when Myrcella left it became more. He doesn't say that Stark bitch's name anymore. He says mine. The night this child was made, it all was perfect. I felt like the girl who adored him on her wedding day."
Jaime didn't like it, not one bit. A good brother would be happy for his sister. But he couldn't be. He was not here to care for her, to help ease her worries. Someone else had to. Damn it all to the Seven Hells.
Jaime couldn't help himself by being so close to her. He pushed into a kiss with her and she kissed back. His body revelled in every sensation he took in of his love. Her taste, her smell, her touch. He missed it all. And yet something about this kiss felt empty, like she was holding back.
A knock on the door broke their kiss and Jaime darted a few steps away from his sister.
"Yes? What is it?" Cersei demanded.
Cersei's handmaiden, Bernadette, poked her head into the room and stuttered when she noticed Jaime in the room as well.
"Oh, pardon, your grace. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. But the prince has returned. And um…" she was hesitant to speak further and Jaime had a bad feeling why. "The King is quite furious with him about something."
Jaime rushed for the door. "Stay here with her. Stress will not do well for the Queen's child." He lightly pushed Bernadette into the room and closed it behind her. Cersei didn't need to see this. But his presence would not be wanted. Jaime went back to the corridor just outside the Throne Room.
He listened in from where he could. The first thing he heard was the loud smack of a hard hand against a soft cheek followed by Joffrey's crying.
"You dumb shit! You pull something petty like this again and I'll denounce you my heir! I've spent eight fucking years waiting for this and I won't have you ruin it for your little games! You understand?"
Joffrey only cried for his answer. How could anyone form words with such a strong hand like Robert's slapping them in his fury?
But Jaime grew very curious as to what had been said. Was a union between House Baratheon and Stark that important to him? Robert hardly looked Myrcella's way when she lived in the Red Keep.
"You'll speak of your little act to no one, you hear? If word breaks out then you'll be the one to pay for fixing it." There was a sudden thump and moments later Joffrey stumbled out of the room, hand pressed firmly to a purple cheek and tears flooding his eyes. On his way to his mother no doubt.
Jaime took him by the shoulders and forced Joffrey to go with him instead. Pycelle would have something to help hide the bruising. As for Robert… the next chance he gets for a spar with the King, there would definitely be a finger or two cut off by 'accident', or maybe a gash on the face like the Mountain's. No one harms his son like that and gets away with it.
Sansa
The journey home wasn't as pleasant as anyone hoped. Although Robb's recovery was coming along steadily, he was still hurt from his defeat and loss of Warpaint. With the stupid storm at the Stony Shore impeding ships, the retinue had to go by land. Jory said it would be almost an entire month before they reached Winterfell.
Sansa was angry to say the least. She hadn't packed for a month and in the time since they left Ashford she hadn't had a proper bath. She and the other girls had to wade into cold rivers to get clean, it was so beneath her. And with only her, Myrcella, and Arya, it was terrifying to think that someone might try to peek at them in such open places. They only ones that any of the girls trusted to keep watch were the pups. Arya was having a good time with all of it. She loved traveling like hedge knights, camping under trees, bathing in the river, she even went on a hunt with Jory, Harwin, and Theon when they crossed the Goldroad. They brought back a wild ram that night.
Now they were stuck waiting for a ferry for the next two days in Lord Harroway's Town. Robb was finally showing better health. He could laugh without feeling pain and he could sit up easier to hold Grey Wind and Myrcella. But he still had to ride in the back of a cart when they traveled.
At least Lady Roote was kind enough to offer shelter in her Round Tower. Given the size, there was not much room for guests. Two beds were available and one was given to Myrcella and the other to Sansa, although she opted to share the bed with Bran but he was having just as fun a time sleeping under trees as Arya.
The rough part was mostly figuring out how to spend the time of the waking day. She didn't have her stitching with her, and Domeric wasn't here with his harp she could sing with. She never liked how she sounded without the harp playing with her.
There was a run down stable that had been neglected for a few years. There, she, Arya, Bran, and Myrcella found wonderful space to play with the direwolf pups. Bran's and Nymeria liked to wrestle and Grey Wind would always pounce on the victor. Sansa kept Lady in her lap, for her pup didn't like to wrestle with the others. Lady is calm and gentle.
While Arya and Bran looked over the pups, Sansa noticed that Myrcella had her head in the clouds with uncertainty.
Sansa scooted closer to her friend. "Maester Dickon seemed a skilled man in healing. I'm sure Robb's feeling better than yesterday."
"Hm?" Myrcella turned her head, clearly not hearing what Sansa just said.
"I said that Robb's in decent hands."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Sansa. I'm sure the maester is taking good care of Robb. I just can't shake these terrible thoughts I keep having."
"Will you tell me? You might feel better."
Myrcella was hesitant but she gave a sullen sigh and pulled her knees to her chest. "I'm scared, Sansa. No matter what I say, Robb just keeps persisting to joust again. Everytime I think it, I keep seeing him fail and scream. What if he falls but there is no scream? What if he really does die if he tries again."
Right now, Sansa didn't know what to say. All she could do was embrace her friend. The worries Myrcella had were mutual. She didn't want to lose another brother. "I don't want him to joust anymore either. I think he's being stupid."
"What am I supposed to ask of him? How can I get him to stop?"
"I don't know. But I think this is something he's going to see through no matter what. And I think I know him enough that he wouldn't do it if he knew he would lose you."
Myrcella sighed and rested a hand on Sansa's arm, the feeling of an anxious shiver still present. "I'm glad I have a sister like you."
"Me too." Sansa smiled.
They continued to watch and play with the pups. Bran decided to go off with his and climb the cherry tree in the south of town. Arya and Nymeria stole everyone's attention when Arya managed to get the little wolf to sit on command and shake with her paw.
A quick streak of flashing grey took Sansa's attention to her pup. Lady was running off somewhere.
"No! Lady, come back!" Sansa scrunched up the hems of her dress and chased after her direwolf. Despite her small size, Lady was a quick runner and keeping up was a hard thing.
Lady ran around the corner of a small cottage.
"What the-"
Sansa heard a man's voice from around the corner. When she turned, she froze in place when she saw Lady yipping up at Domeric. When they both saw each other, he went silent and Sansa noticed that on his horse was a shield half covered by his cloak. On the shield was a familiar sigil, the crescent moon with a lantern.
"Dom," she soon realized, "you're the Mystery Knight?"
Domeric quickly looked back at his shield and moved to cover it but by them he realized there was no point. "Um… I was really hoping I'd get away with it." He half smiled. "If only it weren't for this meddling little pup." he picked Lady up and gently scratched the back of her ears.
Sansa approached him and looked up and down his body like she didn't recognize him. Excitement engulfed her and she nearly became starstruck with Domeric again. Her wish came true after all. Her knight got to crown her his Queen.
"But why? What about Runestone and Ser Robar?"
"He told me it was his business and gave me leave to do what I wanted in his absence. I was going to tell you all but then I had the idea to have some fun." His expression went sullen as he handed Lady back to Sansa. "I only wish that hassle with the Mountain never happened. I wanted to face Robb without anything to hold us back. I was going to reveal myself as well but then it didn't feel right." He looked up from Lady to her. "What are you all doing here? Didn't you sail from Torrhen's Square?"
"We had to change the course of travel for Robb. A storm's making the sea too rough and Rodrik didn't want to take any chances. Were you planning on beating us there?"
"You think I couldn't?"
"I think you can ride to Winterfell and back before we get there. You're the best rider, Half-Horse." She chided. "So how did we catch up to you?"
"Unfortunately, horses can't run on water. Please don't mention this to the others. I'd rather keep my secret and I don't think Robb would feel any better if he knew. Also I may have upset a few other knights and my neck feels safer without them knowing too. I overheard a few things at an inn two days ago."
After the victory he received and the knights he flawlessly bested, of course many would want to know him."I promise I won't say a thing. But, in return you have to pay a toll for my silence."
"Really? I never took you for a money peddler but very well. A gold dragon? Two?"
"I don't want money." Sansa stepped forward and the heat of excitement went to her cheeks. The words were in her mouth but she could say them yet. She breathed almost shivering lungful of air when she finally found the courage to. "I want a kiss from my champion."
Domeric, in all of his pale glory, turned the brightest shades of red and his lips fumbled for words. He blinked at her and then his face settled in silent yes.
She didn't say a thing to him as she tiptoed up and brought a hand to his warm cheek, pulling him closer and wrapping his lips to hers. It was her first kiss. Everything about it felt chaste and amatuer. Theon said that women like to use their tongues but the thought made her stomach wriggle. She wasn't ready for that kind of kiss, but this one was perfect. It was everything she hoped and dreamed it would be.
Their lips broke and each of them opened their eyes. It was strange at first, Sansa didn't quite recognize him after the kiss. It was like something immediately changed in him and she could feel something about her changed too.
"Not a word," Sansa promised. No one would know of this… maybe Myrcella soon. But Arya, who knows what she would blackmail her for.
Sansa carried Lady off from Domeric, giving her knight one last look and smiled at him before disappearing from his loving gaze. She found herself giggling with such joy.
"Sansa!" Bran came running from past a girl selling flowers with petals of orange. "Sansa! You have to come! Father's here!"
"What?" She felt excitement at first, but then a great relief that made her want to cry. She followed her brother running through the town with Lady fast behind at her heels. At the ferry dock when they arrived, the riverboat made port and their father along with thirty of the Winterfell guard disembarked.
Bran sprinted past Sansa with his pup at his heels, falling into their father's arms when he reached him. Sansa did the same when she reached him too. She never realized how terrified she had been since leaving Ashford until now. Being in her father's arms gave her such warm feelings of safety.
"It's alright," her father kept whispering to them, "we're going home."
Ned
When people return home, they're supposed to feel at ease and comforted. But even after all the days that passed by since Ned brought his children home, he couldn't feel that way. Every day he was shaking with anger. He sent a raven every day demanding Ser Gregor Clegane answer for his crimes only to get one response from Tywin Lannister that his sons were on their way.
Ned wanted justice and the North was riled and wanted blood. The lord's didn't believe the Mountain's action caused by drunken stupor like the rumors say. They were silenced when Ned recalled how many countless, idiotic things they've done because of their love of drink. All they could do was wait for what Tyrion Lannister had to say on his father's behalf. And that was today.
By the end of it though, it would be left to Robb's choice. He was the one who was wronged, it would be his choice how it would end. First, he needed some help.
Robb was stubborn when it came to being confined to bed to heal. He could walk with crutches now, but that wasn't enough for him. He wanted to walk so he could train, and he wanted to train so he could defeat the Mountain, and he wanted to defeat the Mountain so he can...
Ned couldn't understand it still. Even after what the children told him, because of how Jon's death impacted him, he had this massive desire to win.
You're sure about this?" Ned asked Syrio Forell as they walked together to Robb's room.
"His condition is nothing more than a babe learning to stand once again. Opportunity presents itself in all misfortunes." Ned was not sure if it was Syrio's accent or the fine voice he had, but everything that man said always instilled a certain confidence."
They both entered Robb's room when they saw the door left open. Luwin was in with Robb doing a check up on his leg.
"How is he doing?" Ned asked Luwin while hiding Robb's gift behind his back.
"Far better," Luwin replied as he gave light squeezes on Robb's leg. "The crack in his leg was not as bad as it first suggested. He'll be walking without trouble in a few months."
To Ned, that was fantastic news. But he saw that Robb wasn't satisfied with that still. He spent weeks confined to his bed to let his ribs heal and it was clear he was tired of staying in.
Ned stepped forward to his son. "You're not happy about that? First it was a year, but now it's only a few months. Is that not enough?"
Robb shrugged with a sigh. "I'm sick of being treated like this. Like I'm a bloody cripple."
"Robb, you're not a cripple. We just don't want to take any risks and make things worse."
"Until now," Syrio said with a smirk and nodded to Ned. From behind his back, Ned brought forth an ironwood cane fashioned by the Forresters themselves. "You grow tired of being in bed, then I will teach you to yearn for rest."
Robb received the cane but looked skeptical. "If I'm using this then how will I swing a sword?"
"Do you only have one hand? When your right is busy, you will use your left. Now stand."
Luwin stepped back when Robb slowly placed his feet on the floor. Putting his weight on his left leg and using the cane to support his right, he pulled himself out of bed.
"How do you feel?" luwin asked.
"It still hurts, but I can walk." he looked to Syrio. "I don't know how you expect me to fight when I can move faster than a turtle in the mud."
"With practise." Syrio said, giving Robb a light pat on the back.
"But that can wait for tomorrow. Ser Jaime and his brother are arriving shortly. You'll be in attendance for them. Get dressed and get moving. You've been in bed for too long."
In the next hour, Ned and Robb gathered with many a handful of the castle guard into the great hall of Winterfell.
The hinges groaned as the doors opened. The atmosphere grew angry at the entrance of Tyrion and Jaime Lannister. No either of the brothers looked at all happy to be back, although Jaime looked somewhat relieved when he saw Robb.
Tyrion Lannister stopped in the middle of the room with two of his personal guards behind him, both men also had hands resting on sword hilts but both casually rather than tense like the Winterfell guard.
Jaime spoke first. "I have returned for my vigil of the Princess, Lord Stark."
"And you are welcome, but you have no part in this. Take your leave."
Jaime looked down to his brother, his fingers fidgeting tightly against each other. It took a subtle nod from Tyrion for jaime to go without a word. The doors shut behind the white cloak of the Kingsguard.
"Lord Tyrion," Ned greeted, "I trust the journey was fair?"
"It was, Lord Stark. The seas of White Harbor are kind to all. But pleasant introductions are not why I am here." Tyrion swallowed. "Lord Robb, it is good to see you recovering well. On behalf of my father's kingdom, we offer our apologies for the tragedy that occured. I have brought with me a new horse for you, a destrier hand picked by my father himself. He will serve well from pleasant rides to the hardest of battles."
"But rather than send Ser Gregor to answer for his attempted murder of my son, he hides away and lets you do that for him. I didn't think I expected him to be as cowardly as he is ruthless."
"His aggressive nature does well to hide it most of the time. But he is preoccupied making his penance for his drunken foolishness."
"Penance? If he wishes penance then he shall have it when I have his hands or the Night's Watch has his life. And I heard many rumors that Ser Gregor was in fact greatly drunk in his ride against my son, but my children speak otherwise. Why should I doubt their words for the gossip of others?"
"You have no reason to. They were there and they saw what they saw. But my father's men do not dare report lies to me. Ser Gregor drank heavily from a cask before his ride with your son. His stupor drew off his aim and in his drunken idiocy became sore at his lack of performance. Believe me, if your son had died, The Mountain's head would be at your feet and his keep razed. Instead I have punished him severely. His lands reduced, a sentence of service beneath his position until he learns humility. And when time comes that you meet him yourself, he shall fall on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness and offering any service he might do for you."
"I have no need for a knight unworthy of the title."
"Nevertheless, he still shall do as I have ordered. I have no need for a man who causes such difficulties. He will never ride in another tourney again."
"What?" Robb nearly exclaimed before Ned could speak. "That's not what I want!"
"Robb, settle down," Ned began but his son was furious.
"I won't let my honor be trampled on without repremanse!"
Tyrion cocked his head. "The repremanse you seek is not what you can have. Ser Gregor has been punished more than needed and still you seek more?"
Everyone, including Ned looked at him with utter disgust. "More than enough?" Ned nearly exclaimed with his broad voice.
"He was drunk, my Lord Stark. Of course problems were to ensue especially with a thick headed man like him. People do idiotic things when they take too much liquor yet what you demand is more than what is fair. Had it been one your fellow Northmen deep in their cups instead, would you still seek such justice?"
"I wouldn't need to seek it, for any man in my allegiance to commit such foolery and dishonor would fall to their knees for forgiveness, not break the sigils of the fallen." Robb's shield was broken after his fall, an act of complete dishonor and disgrace.
"I see, so your friends are an expectation when it comes to your sense of duty and justice?" The Imp switched his focus to Robb. "Your pride was wounded as much as your body. But don't let your greed for revenge outweigh your own morals, boy."
"I don't want revenge," Robb explained, "I want what is owed. A rematch. I would have won that tilt and Ser Gregor knew it too, no matter his ale. But since he couldn't win, then he'd see that I wouldn't either. I won't fall next time."
Ned rested his elbow on the table, pinching the bridge of his nose in a mental exhaustion with Robb's persistent desire for games. "There will not be a rematch. A man who dishonors the sport should not compete at all."
"My honor was tarnished by the Mountain! I have the right to stand against him again in a fair match. You've always taught us that, Father."
"There are always lessons in failures, Lord Robb," Tyrion noted. "You should use this as a lesson on when to fight against a certain opponent and when not to. A wise man once said that the greatest glory is not about falling, it is about getting up. But you should not stand on broken bone and shaken pride."
"Which is why I want to compete against him again when we're both playing fairly."
Ned nearly had it in him to simply say that life is hardly ever fair. "There's no glory facing the dishonorable. Robb, you are my son and the heir to the North. I will not have you risking yourself just because of your bruised pride. That's my final word." Ned's nostrils flared as he breathed. "Leave us, all of you." Without a word of question, the Winterfell guard began marching out and Lord Twin waved his guards to leave as well. Ned looked to Robb. "You too. Your business is done."
"Father-"
"No!" He looked at his son with a stern expression. What happened now would be a leap of faith that no one else should be anchored to be a part of.
Robb sighed, disgruntled but obeying to his father. With Jory's help he and all others emptied the Great Hall, leaving Tyrion Lannister alone with Ned Stark.
Ned rose from his seat and walked out in front of the table. "We'll continue this in my solar. This way." He led Lord Tyrion through the warm halls of Winterfell and into his chambers. No one would disturb them until they were finished.
"Your boy is quite stubborn." Tyrion remarked as he walked over the hearth still lit with flame. "If taught well, it can become an advantage for him but it will always be a weakness as well."
Ned decided to feed some more wood into the flames. "He's always had the desire to be the best of everything he does. Ever since the day I lost my son to a catspaw's dagger and he lost his brother." His fists clenched in clear view of Tywin, displaying the anger he still held for that night.
"I don't think he means to be the best, but merely to succeed at all he does. There's a big difference. The unfortunate part I think is that he doesn't want to face the teachings of failure."
"His heart's in the right place, but not his head. I think Myrcella will help put him on the right path as his wife." If anyone could get through to his son, it was her. The trust they had in each other was immensely strong. But what could anyone expect less of when it came to love?
Tyrion nodded with a proud smirk at the mention of his niece. His glance caught up to Ice in the direwolfskin sheath. "Still marvels me to see your family's blade. If you wanted, you could probably find the right smith and melt it down into two swords. Would be far more practical."
"My sword has taken more heads than the blades of the North have in war. Two swords won't make a difference."
"Apologies, I meant no offence to the blade. I've seen my share of Valyrian steel and none have the intimidating presence that yours does."
Ned had an idea. It was a risk, but one he'd have to try to get some kind of answer. "As it happens, I have another blade, one I think you might find greater interest than Ice." Ned walked over to the oak chest in the corner of his solar and rummaged through to the bottom. He pulled out the dagger and returned to Tyrion, unsheathing it and displaying the beauty that disgusted him.
Tyrion's eyes locked on the dagger, but there was no trace of dread or guilt upon him. "I was unaware your house had a second Valyrian steel blade. And is that dragonbone in the hilt?"
Ned knew that to play this right, he had to keep the nature of the dagger back. "Aye. It came into our possession long ago. I almost considered selling it to your father but had a change of mind."
"While Valyrian steel is always of interest, My father wants a blade that he can display as a great symbol to all other houses. A dagger wouldn't be enough unfortunately."
"And what of you? You're no swordsman but a blade like this might fit well at your hip."
"If I could reach my hands into the Lannister coffers deep enough I would. Dragons fascinate me to the heights they once flew and a dagger with such material would be my greatest prize." Tyrion sighed with a chuckle. "But my father never enjoys the things I hold high. If he knew I had it, it would be gone one day and locked up for no one else to find."
Finally, an opening. "Does he hate your joy that much or does he value the steel more?"
"If he were in possession of a new blade for House Lannister, the only one he would entrust it to besides himself would be my brother. He'd never dare give it to someone at risk of losing such. It would humiliate him more than the rejected offers for blades."
Ned could feel his hands shaking. If these words were true then the Lannisters had nothing to do with the assassination. Was the trail just a coincidence? There was no way to certain, all Ned could do was consider the possibility. For years he pondered the question why they would try to kill Robert when they were already married into the crown? Was it so Joffrey could ascend earlier and they could control him? But then why haven't there been any other attempts of Robert's life since then?
"Where did you say you acquired the dagger?" Tyrion asked.
"I didn't." Ned felt another chance opened. "Do you recognize it?"
Tyrion studied it. "I want to say that I don't, I would remember a dagger like this were I introduced as close as you have. But then again a part of me does recognize the shape."
"Then maybe you might be able to help me find who it belonged to. I've never liked this dagger and I wouldn't care if it departed from my hands without a single coin put in its place. But I've never been able to find the owner. All I know is that he owns a ship that bears a red goblet with wings. None of the Hersy's owned such a vessel but from what I found out the ship makes port in King's Landing."
"You want to return the dagger?" Tyrion looked at him as if he were the most foolish person in the world. "Is it your strong sense of morality that compels you to part with something so priceless or perhaps you hope to gain something else if not coin?"
"My reasons are my own. But I would be in debt to you should you help me."
Tyrion's complexion changed to that of a man pondering the options before him, stroking his chin and arching his brow. "Hm… quite tempting. And what kind of debt would a Stark repay a Lannister?"
Lannisters always had a way to ensnare people to do things for them, now Ned finally had his turn to do it to them. "Anything within my discretion. And if matters find themselves favorable for yourself, then I will give you the dagger itself."
Tyrion pursed his lips and as he began to pace. "If I help you find the owner of this dagger, the debt should be fairly equal to the price. I would ask in return… a small keep of my own."
This was certainly a surprise to hear. "A keep on my lands? Whatever for?"
"I'd like to have a place I know my father would never follow. And it should be somewhere close to a town. I like my women close by and available without a moment's delay."
So the little Lannister wanted a little getaway to go unbothered. "There are a few places near White Harbor that could suit your desire, my lord."
"Wonderful. But if the dagger goes unclaimed, then I would have it instead. And be sure to understand, once it becomes mine I will never let it slip from my grasp."
Ned bent down and offered his hand. "We have a deal, then?"
Tyrion smirked. "That we do," he replied with a strong and excited shake.
What do you think of that?