Sansa

Kings landing was everything she had dreamed of as a girl. A large city more impressive than the gray foreboding walls of Winterfell. The Red Keep boasted beautiful red walls as brilliant as any song. The Great Sept of Baelor on Viseynas Hill already a distant memory. They had arrived through the Dragon Gate and passed by the famed Dragon Pits on Rhaenys Hill. Everything was bright and vibrant despite the foul smell. Jeyne Poole was gushing over every detail. She sat in silence, feeling as cold as ice as the coach moved down the streets towards the residence. My dream turned to ash. All she could muster was a weak smile and small nod with every word from Jeynes mouth.

Sansa tried to ignore her.

At night, she would dream of blood. Blood and cruel green eyes. Fool! She thought, tasting the bitterness down her throat that the memory inspired. The day along the Trident had started like a storybook: Prince Joffrey was as gallant and true as any prince from a song. Just like Aemon the Dragonknight or Prince Duncan. It was an adventure! Sansa saw it all clearly: marriage, children, tournaments, balls. Everything was going to be so marvelous!

Then he cut down Bran smiling. Sweet harmless Bran and the dream turned to ash. He was a monster, and she was a fool for not seeing it. How can I trust myself if I was so easily misled? Sansa wondered and had no answer. All of her dreams of gallant princes and handsome knights spilled away along with Brans lifeblood. She begged father to let Bran come back with them, but he said. "His place is in the Vale my sweet daughter."

Lady licked her cheek, earning a small giggle, and she stroked underneath her chin. Lady could still bring a smile to her face and make her feel bolder. What would I do without her?

"Sansa, are you even listening to me?" Jeyne asked, annoyed.

Sansa blinked and froze. "I'm sorry Jeyne, I was elsewhere."

Jeyne rolled her eyes. "I was just asking what dress do you think you'll wear during your first day of court!"

The world spun, and for a moment she couldn't breathe. A court filled with potential Joffreys. Something lodged deep in her chest as she stiffened. "I won't be going." She said with some bite and her friend stumbled back, speechless.

"But Sansa!" Jeyne recovered with enthusiasm. "The Lords! The Knights! Balls of Splendor!"

"I have a betrothed." She reminded. Plump Prince Tommen, he seemed very sweet offering flowers before he left, but Joffrey had seemed all too gallant as well. "And I shall not go." She had no intention of leaving the residence save when she must as a daughter of Winterfell. The only thing she looked forward to was a pleasant warm bed and safety of being under fathers protection with the swords wielded by Stark men.

I won't be deceived ever again. Sansa vowed.

Jeyne looked to complain, but a rare hard look from Lady had her as white as a ghost. She all but bolted when Jory opened the door. "My lady," He offered his hand.

She accepted and gazed at everything and sighed. It was everything she had once wanted and now she just wished they were back in Winterfell.

Sansa retired early to her quarters that had been prepared ahead of time and curled up on the bed with a book only stirring when summoned for dinner. Arya was stabbing her meat with a kitchen knife savagely to the exasperation of Septa Mordane, whom looked close to tears. "Stop that, Arya dear. You are a lady, not a savage. If only you were more like your sister." Those words once would have made her feel pride, but now she knew better. Arya lifted her head up, glowering. She still blames me for the butchers boy. The Hound cut him down and Arya still hadn't forgiven her for not defending her before the king.

"It's the Prince! And his no good dog!" Arya said.

"Arya Stark!" Septa Mordane said, horrified. "You should pray for his blackened soul that he may find the Mothers forgiveness. Not wishing for something so wicked!"

Sansa nearly snorted, but kept her vow of silence. I hope he dies painfully. He almost killed Bran. The maester told her father. "He should regain most motion in his limbs, but his left arm will always be slower. I fear the scarring was intensive." The large cut over his small body requires dozens of stitches. Only the small mercy of the Gods that it could be hidden away, unlike the gruesome burned marks of the Hound.

But Prince Joffreys death was unlikely. Ser Jamie was one of the greatest knights in the realm and the Hound frightened her. No doubt they would frighten others whom wished Joffrey harm.

I should have spoken up. Sansa lamented. But Joffrey was going to be her husband and she couldn't speak against him so brazenly. A tense silence descended between the two of them as she ate small bites. A small meal of steak and fruit from Highgarden: peaches, oranges, and apples. When father arrived, he looked worn and weary from his first day as Hand of the King, but he offered them a kind smile. Jon was behind him grinning before offering their lord father a small bow and took his seat. The South agreed with him. Sansa thought. In the distance servants tossed enormous slabs of meat for Nymeria, Ghost, and Lady to consume and ran for the hills, less they lose a limb.

Arya brightened immediately at Jon's arrival. "Tell me everything about sword fighting with Ser Barristan!"

"Well, you know the basics, little sister. Stick up with the pointy end." Jon said, ruffling her hair.

"I know that, Jon. Tell me something I don't know."

"Sword fighting is not appropriate for a lady to speak of." Septa Mordane chided before looking to father for support.

Instead, an amused look crossed his face, and he chuckled. "I see little harm in it." And with a wave of his hand dismissed her worries. Jon and Arya launched into a conversation, and she toyed with her food. Her appetite was lost as guilt gnawed at her. What if Bran and Arya died? It would have been her fault. Maybe if she had just gone a different way? Maybe if she spoke against Joffrey, King Robert would have killed him? She analyzed that day over and over, too little avail. It always ended with her thinking of blood.

"I have something for you, love." Father said, handing her a beautiful doll. "I got it from the same toy maker that makes Princess Myrcella's toys."

"That's thoughtful of you, father." Sansa said with a forced smile. She could barely look at it. Only father could think me worthy of gifts. Even if I no longer play with dolls.

Father frowned.

"Are you well, daughter? You've barely eaten. You haven't even touched the lemon cakes."

Sansa swallowed uneasily and stood up. "I find I have little appetite. May I be excused, father?"

Father sighed and nodded his consent.

"Now, remember dear to pick out a nice dress for the morrow. King Robert shall host court and your lord father shall be at his side." Septa Mordane said.

Sansa paused and mumbled. "I'm not going."

Jon and Aryas conversation halted. A spoonful of mashed potatoes flopped onto Arya's plate as her sister went wide eyed. Father placed down his goblet of water from his lips and the Septa just prattled on, ignoring her trembling hands.

"Don't be silly, dear, as the eldest daughter of the Hand. You'll be expected to attend. It's your duty-"

"My duty is to marry Prince Tommen for House Stark. Nothing more!" Sansa yelled, heat rushing to her cheeks and stormed out of the room, too angry for words and on the verge of tears. "Lady to me!" she commanded.

Lady nudged what remained of her slab of meat to her littermates and jaunted to join her. She ran to her quarters, slammed the door behind her and collapsed on top of the soft sheets and wept bitter tears. They can't make me! No breath would come to her lungs and her body shuddered. Lady licked the tears away, and she buried her face deep into her soft fur coat. She wanted to be back in Winterfell in her room. Not here. She wanted mother to brush her hair until it glistened and tell her everything would be all right. She wished to dream of something pleasant, not blood and monsters.

Sansa wanted to be home.

Two other balls of fur jumped on top of her as heavy as stones. Licking and drooling all over her. "Get off!" She demanded. "Stop it!"

"I don't think they are going to listen." The blunt voice of her sister made her wince.

Sansa turned around and saw Arya and Jon carrying plates of food. It burned her nostrils and made her eyes water. Jon told her with a warm smile that father permitted them to finish dinner with her. "You came." She sniffled. "I thought you hated me." Sansa pointed at her sister.

"Your stupid!" Arya said. "But still my sister!" And hugged her tightly, and she returned the embrace. I'm still part of the pack! Jon stood aloof in the distance. That filled her with shame.

Sansa giggled. "You can come Jon. You're our brother."

"Half-brother." He corrected.

It was her fault she had treated him too poorly, as a lady should. But when she had wept over Bran, he held her. When she stumbled into camp covered in their brothers blood, he hugged her despite the mess it made to his clothes. Blood was hard to get out. Every night, he made sure she found herself in her own bed. Jon was her brother as much as Robb was and as gallant as any lord. If there was a heroic prince that existed, it was Jon, and she snarled at him. "Get over here Jon or we'll come to you!"

Jon reddened as the wolves howled, scaring whatever ghosts roamed the halls.

Afterwards, they laughed and talked the rest of the night away. Arya told her she was going to be taking up dancing and asked her to join, but she declined. She hardly felt like dancing. Jon told them about his day as a squire and the honor it would allow him to earn. "I'm already better than some of the Knights of the Kingsguard." He bragged. "A bastard can earn a lot of honor here. Even if I don't wear the white cloak, Ser Barristan shall knight me and mayhaps I could earn some keep in these tourneys. Barristan the Bold himself said I was a good lance and gifted sword for a melee. I have a lot of options here, sister." But not in Winterfell? Sansa wondered.

The next morning, father said she didn't have to go to court if she didn't wish it and the week passed blissfully. Arya went dancing (How odd). Jon fulfilled his duties to Ser Barristan, and she spent her days reading, practicing her stitches, and taking walks with Lady. The sun was up halfway in the sky when Fat Tom permitted a messenger, inviting her to afternoon tea with Princess Myrcella in her gardens. It would be a slight to ignore it and that would embarrass father and House Stark. I could feign illness, but a second invitation would eventually come.

Sansa had to rip the bandage off and she replied it would be her honor to attend. When she arrived, Princess Myrcella greeted her like a lost sister and threw her arms around her, giggling. The princess had hair that shined like gold, with slender shoulders and dainty hips. She was beautiful. They had set a canopy up for them, along with an array of biscuits, lemon cakes, and cups of tea. "Oh, it's simple delightful for you to join me!" the princess said.

"I'm thrilled at the invitation, princess."

She looked around and noticed only two chairs with velvet cushions. Shouldn't there be more? Sansa wondered. "Did I arrive early, princess?"

Princess Myrcella shook her head. "No, right on time!" She said cheerfully. "I just wanted to meet my future good sister. One on one. I wanted to ask you in person at court, but you never arrived, and I fear I'm terribly impatient. I hope that's alright?" Princess Myrcella bit underneath her lip and fidgeted with her hands.

"No, I have no complaints." Sansa replied, taking her seat, biting into the sweet lemon cake and dabbing away with a napkin.

"Excellent, I even ordered some bones from the kitchens for Lady! I wouldn't want her to be left out."

The princess shot of question after question that she had barely touched her tea. Sansa felt weary of the inquiries and tensed.

"And I- "Princess Myrcella stopped and blushed prettily. "I'm sorry Lady Sansa, you must think I'm interrogating you. Go on, ask anything of myself. I swear on my honor as a princess I shall answer honestly."

Sansa placed her cup of tea down. "What did Joffrey say when he had his hand around your throat? I couldn't hear."

Princes Myrcella tightened before her shoulders slouched with her left hand gripping her right arm nervously. "Oh, you saw that? It's not for civilized company I fear." She admitted as she tried to disappear into the seat. "In truth, I've wronged you my lady."

"You wronged me?" Sansa asked in disbelief. How could the princess have possibly wronged me?

"Yes, I knew my brother's nature, and I didn't warn you. I was worried you wouldn't believe me and they would punish me for speaking the truth." Princess Myrcella sighed. "It was cowardly and a princess should show greater courage."

"No, no, no." Sansa said. "There is absolutely nothing to apologize for. I should be the one apologizing." She grasped the princess's hand and squeezed. "I've treated you with such suspicion. You must think me wretched."

Princess Myrcella laughed. It was a bitter sound. "You should suspect me, for I have my motives no matter how well intentioned they may be. My mother has plots. Everyone in this court has plots though I strive to be kind."

Sansa withdrew her hand, and suddenly she wished to retire back to the safety of the residence.

"Oh, it's nothing so terrible." Princess Myrcella said. "I simply wanted to befriend you for my brother's sake. I care little for Joffrey, but I adore my little brother Tommen and I wanted to get to know his future wife. Love and peace are my only true plots, my lady."

"Is that why you threw yourself over Joffrey? For love and peace?"

Princess Myrcella shuddered from the memory even in the heat of the summer. "It would be terrible for our families coming to blows. You love your family, don't you?"

The bloody form of Bran came to her and the tears she shed over him. She thought of Jon and his comforting hands. Robb teasing her. Arya annoying her and even Baby Rickon. Fathers warm smile and mother brushing her hair.

Sansa was aghast. "Don't all daughters love their families?"

Sweet laughter erupted from Princess Myrcella. "Oh, no. But I love you do!" Every word out of her mouth was making her head spin. She spoke of Queens. Hands. Plots. Intrigues. All the things that they could do together. "My lady, one day you shall be Queen. Myself Lady of the Eyrie, and mayhaps the wife of a Hand of the King. For the good of our families, it would do us well to support one another. What better way than through friendship?" A sympathetic look glistened in her bright green eyes. "You grew up in Winterfell and I understand things are different in the North." She grasped her hands. "Listen, I understand this may be overwhelming and I apologize for that, but you need to be prepared. I cannot have you influenced and swayed by my mother."

What did the Queen have to do with anything? "I don't understand." Sansa said. "This makes little sense to myself. You oppose your own mother? Why would the Queen try to use me?"

Princess Myrcella looked vexed for a moment before offering a warm smile. "We'll start slow." She promised. "But you must promise me not to trust her."

Sansa was uncertain about everything. Doubt gnawed at her, but then Lady licked her hands. Lady liked her, and she never liked Joffrey much. "Okay." She whispered, nodding her head.

"That's enough of courtly intrigue!" Princess Myrcella said, stifling a giggle. "Worry not. We are still both very young and have many years to grow into our roles. We can still have fun. No need to be so dour like Uncle Stannis." She offered to take her sailing, walking through the gardens or the maze, even a session of sewing, though she claimed she detested it. "I would have invited your sister, but I think she would be more suited for a day of falconry! She doesn't strike me as the tea and cakes sort."

Sansa smiled. "I think that would suit her fine princess."

It was easy to talk with Princess Myrcella. She always seemed to have a warm smile and a kind word to say. Somehow, the conversation arrived at Cousin Jasper. Did I bring him up, or did she? Sansa couldn't remember and she said only the good things as a lady should. That he was a wonderful dancer and seemed very kind. He offered her a handkerchief when she wept before the king. Even if a part of her would always hate him. Jon didn't deserve what he did.

"Anything else?" Princess Myrcella asked, her girlish voice higher and disappointed.

Sansa struggled to recall anything else. He rarely spoke with her, save idle courtesies. "He likes songs I think and happy stories." She said with some uncertainty.

"Songs?" Princess Myrcella brightened. "You certain?"

She shook her head. "It was very long ago" I was a foolish girl blinded by a prince's love. "But I think he mentioned something of the sort, but I wasn't paying much attention." Too focused on him and the life she would lead in the south. Princess Myrcellas hand intertwined with her own and she gave a warm smile.

"Think nothing of it Sansa."

Cersei

Cersei tightened her grip on the pale throat as it turned fat and thick like Roberts pathetic round neck. Skin turned blue and purple. The pale copy of her twin was withering underneath her touch and she showed she was every bit a powerful queen strangling her enemies beneath a lions claws. Hear me Roar! A daughter of the great Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. She imagined Lancel was Robert, but her ire changed to Lord Arryn. He was more irksome than the old falcon ever was. How dare he take my child away from me?

The business on the Trident was his fault, not her Joffreys. My innocent boy. A diabolical plot to make Tommen into an Arryn King filled with the mummery of Vale chivalry. Lord Eddard Stark was too simple and dull to come up with such an intricate plot. Robert loved Jasper Arryn, calling him a true knight and valiant hunter, but Lord Arryn had orchestrated this by playing the gallant knight to her husband and bullying Tommen into spreading such falsehoods. The Stark girls his pawns through the boy Brandon and the butchers boy to blame if things went awry. The claims exaggerated. Joffrey would never hurt his blood. Myrcella was an accident. Now, Tommen was his puppet and her fat oaf of a husband had pawned of their daughter to him as well. Tommen was weak as a kitten and no lion unlike Joffrey. Joffrey was strong and would have made an amazing king. The people and the lords would have feared him and feared the name Lannister.

Now Tommen will become a falcon, and they'll be mocked from here to Sunspear. Cersei raged.

Lancels fingers tapped against her, trying to pry fingers away as he arched up and spilled his seed.

She roared and released Lancel whom fell back gasping and wheezing before her. I'm the Queen. All bow before me. Falcons. Wolves. Stags. Lions. All will bow before me.

Jamie, her twin and perfect reflection of herself, had been sent away along with her eldest son and the true king. Exiled like common thieves in the dead of night and humiliated before the court. Joffrey carried off in a cart, his mouth wrapped in bandages of silk while men laughed and mocked." The Fallen Stag." the fools said. They had stacked Roberts Court with Northman, Valeman, and Riverlords per the audacity of Lord Stark, as if a wolf could steal everything that was hers. A few positions remained to them and the gold of Casterly Rock could always buy friends, but now all she had was meagre wimpy Lancel Roberts squire in place to act.

She sucked him dry to his groans and moans.

Before she would have killed Robert, but she had no king to crown "He who controls the king controls the realm." Her father once said. But if Robert died, Lord Arryn would hold Tommen and would likely declare himself or Stark Regent. They would march down with his banners behind him and send her away. Already, they had taken charge of positions in the City Watch. Barbaric north man flooded the streets. Vale and Riverlords held more positions in the court itself. Robert couldn't die until Tommen returned and he could summon his brother back to take up the crown.

I shall not endure that fat drunkard for another 6 years.

"Ah, my sweet cousin. You're beautiful." Lancel said with what he thought was a winning smile. It paled to Jamie. Even that vile Lord Arryn had a better smile.

"And I shall be in your debt forever." She whispered, drifting her hand down his thighs. "For helping me with brutish Robert."

Lancel gasped. "Anything, for my queen."

It was pathetic how easy it was to seduce him. A true lion should have shown more spine. Lancel was little more than a house cat, but even cats have claws and with Jamie gone, she needed Lancel to carry out her plans with utter obedience.

The path was clear as day. Lord Arryn must die. Cersei smiled, thinking of how pretty he would look dead. Yet, she had no one in the Vale to carry out the deed. A dagger in the Eyrie would be hard pressed and would likely lead to that oaf Stark deposing her. I need him to come to the capital and for it to look an accident.

Lancel groaned and Cersei smiled as she glanced at that part of him. I'll use Myrcella to get Arryn flying down from his nest in the mountains. She thought. Lord Arryn might be a man of honor, but he had the same thing between his legs as all men. The titles and honors of marriage to her lovely daughter would have him coming for this tourney. Lord Baelish, the little charming fool, had hinted Lord Arryn fancied himself a tourney knight. Such a tidbit of information would lead to his death. Would Baelish remember how such words led to the death of his patronage? It wasn't likely the man was good for a cheap jape and collecting coins little more. He even hinted at the money troubles and mocked the ambitions of Ser Hugh of the Vale Jon Arryns former squire being in his debt. The man would be just as easily swayed as Lancel was. A perfect catspaw, he would have access to Lord Arryns tent and stables as his fathers former squire. Lancel would make for a fine match for Myrcella, weak and under her sway.

Her cousin brushed against her, desiring more, but she would leave him wanting and dressed. "Robert is drunk. Not dead." She said.

"I'm not afraid of that fat man." Lancel declared haughtily.

Cersei almost laughed. Robert would crush you.

Instead, she kissed him on the brow and called him brave before sending him on his way and drank the moon tea Pycelle supplied her. The rest of the day she spent with her ladies-in-waiting. Weak simpering women gushing about like the sheep they were while she acted like Roberts docile and dutiful queen. Only for Vylarr to stick his head into the solar. "Your daughter is here, your grace." Why was Myrcella here? What could she possibly want from her? The stupid girl had much to answer for and she wanted to deny her, but her heart softened.

"Sorry dears. I think we'll have to cut this day short."

They departed with false smiles and promises of friendship.

Her beautiful daughter curtsied before her. "Mother." She said, lowered head soft and submissive to her.

My good sweet daughter, why do you anger me so?

"My doe, come closer to me. Shouldn't you be in your lessons?"

"Oh, they ended some time ago, mother." Myrcella answered. "I'm here as a daughter to you."

The graceful smile faded, and a frowned form. "Whatever do you mean, Myrcella? I think you've done enough as of late."

Myrcella twisted away shamefully. "I'm so sorry about Joffrey mother. I want to help make things right. I want your permission to befriend the Stark girl and make her ours."

Cersei scoffed. "And why would I involve you, my sweet daughter?"

"Look at her mother. No one has seen the girl in court despite gushing about it all throughout the trip. She's scared. I'm the perfect one to pry her open for the good of our family. She'll trust me for the words I spoke on the Trident. You she'll only suspect your intentions and we need Joffs future wife to remain pliable." Myrcella's voice was filled with desperation. "Please, mother let me help. I know I can do it."

The Stark girl was too valuable to be trusted to Myrcella, but it would be a good way for her to prove herself to Joffrey. Her brother would hold her words against her, and she would have to soothe them away with her contributions.

"Only if you tell me everything you learn." She relented and her daughter brightened.

"Thank you, mother!" Myrcella gushed. "I won't let you down. Naturally, I shall tell you everything I learn of her and Stark family secrets. Anything to right my wrong." How did I make such a sweet and dutiful daughter? Maybe Jamie was right, and she would make a good wife for Joffrey. The Targaryens were wedded to brother and sister to keep the line pure. Why not Lannisters? She stroked her blond curls as delicate as her own, only letting go when the fat oaf came stumbling in with ale on his breath, determined to claim his rights with her.

"WHATS OUR DAUGHTER DOING HERE WOMAN!"

"She's just leaving Robert." She said dully.

She seethed as she fulfilled her duty and imagined Robert a corpse. It always made it easier.

Tommen

Bran hated him.

Every time he rode down the caravan of Vale knights on his white pony named Ser Gallop to speak with Bran, it was the same. Cold stoney silence and a scowl. Brans mood was worsened by the fact he was riding in the wagon still and not on horses like them. A maester with a portly belly constantly overseeing his care. Tommen had tried to cheer him up by offering to ride with him. His shoulders drooped at the memory and the harsh refusal. Would you have forgiven me if Joffrey struck me down too? Do I need scars of my own for you to see? Tommen wondered. The scars he bore were harder to see, but he had them all the same. Ser Arys white cloak always a distant shadow behind him on these trips. The Reachman Knight was good and always smiled at him, unlike the Hound whom frightened him. It made him feel braver with a knight of the Kingsguard behind him.

Jon and Adrian treated him differently as well since the Trident. They were deferential to whatever he wished and always asked him to take part in whatever mischief they got themselves into. I'm the Crown Prince. Not the spare. Everyone looked at him differently now as well. When father declared himself heir to the Iron Throne, Tommen thought he was dreaming and could scarcely say the words as oaths were sworn by every knight, lord that traveled with them. In the eyes of Gods and men, he was now the Crown Prince and when father passed, he would be king.

If only I knew how to be one

"Lets go racing Tommen!" Adrian said with an enormous grin. The Belmore boy was always brash, eager for adventure and trouble. "I can beat the both of you to the stream!"

Quiet Jon Waynwood snorted. "I think not. Too slow Belmore."

"I'm fine." Tommen mumbled. "It wouldn't be right without Bran."

Adrian groaned. "He's a bitter wolf. You don't need him, my prince."

Tommen reddened. "Don't call him that!" Something flared in his chest, and he gripped the reins more tightly. He wanted to hit him.

Before he could respond, Jon Waynwood mediated between the two of them. "Peace, Adrian meant nothing by it. Right Adrian? A poor jape on your part." And glowered. The Waynwood boy had a dead look in his eyes that sent a chill to his heart.

Adrian mumbled in agreement and Tommen told him they both should race to the stream, but he wasn't going with them. They both share a glance before departing with. "My prince."

If Joffrey were here, he would have done something cruel to Adrian for his words. Myrcella would have come up with something clever, but he was neither cruel nor clever. He missed Myrcella terribly and wept when then departed down the Kingsroad. He even missed Joffrey and shed tears for him as well. Joffrey knew what he was doing. Mother always said he did.

"Are you well, my prince?" Ser Arys asked with a smile.

Tommen shook his head honestly. "But I don't think this is something even a brave man of the Kingsguard could solve."

"May I speak freely?"

He nodded.

"It was noble of you to defend your friend. Many would have forgotten him. It speaks of your character." He praised, and praise from a Kingsguard could not be taken lightly. For a moment he smiled, feeling like before when he was still a spare and Lord Arryns squire. Life was simple then. Those weeks were happy ones. Perhaps, the happiest of his life. Running. Training. Laughing. Bran was unhurt and had an easy way about him he envied. They were friends and no one else really noticed him, and that was fine. He only needed one friend. How he loved him for it!

When they stopped for camp, Lord Arryn summoned him to sup with him in his personal pavilion. They always alternated between the four of them. He was ushered in. A small feast lay before them that had his stomach growling fiercely and his eyes watery. Lord Arryn sat on a wooden chair without a cushion wearing on his surcoat the cream-and-blue in the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, with a handsome sky-blue cloak draped around his neck. "Sit my prince." He said with a lords voice. "Eat and tell me of your ride." Something softened in Lord Arryns eyes when he talked of his day.

"It was a fine ride, my lord. I hold little complaint."

"And you went to see Brandon again, did you not?"

Tommens hand tightened around his silverware. "I- "A cat had his tongue, and he dared not speak.

Lord Arryn smiled wistfully. "It's okay. We need not speak about that, but I wish to speak of your princely duties. You're behind in everything a crown prince should excel in. Swords. Horses. Sigils." Lord Arryn's voice became curt. "Not your fault and at the Gates of the Moon you'll learn from a maester, a master of arms, master of horse, and a septon. The same men my grand uncle summoned for myself. I'm confident you'll catch up and do yourself great honor, but I'm worried for you my prince. You seem despondent since the Trident and that troubles me. Is there anyway I can help you?"

He swallowed something heavy and sighed. "I'm sorry for troubling you, my lord. I've enjoyed being your squire, and I find brothers in Bran, Jon, and Adrian. But I don't think I shall bear the crown of my father well. I believe you shall all be disappointed."

"Your Small Council then. We'll start there. We shall master that until you feel comfortable."

Tommen blinked in confusion. "My Small Council?"

"Start small and work our way up, and whats smaller than the Small Council."

It took a moment for him to realize he was telling a joke, and Tommen laughed awkwardly. "I still don't understand my lord."

"When you become king, whom do you want on your Small Council. You know the posts, don't you?"

Tommen nodded. "Yes, there is the Master of Laws, Hand of the King, Master of Coin, Grand Maester, Master of Ships, Master of Whispers." He shivered at that last one.

Lord Arryn gave an approving look. "And who would you name? You'll be king, my prince. Everyone will look to you to name the men to these posts."

It stumped him. How do you know who to pick for each role? Loyalty? Ability? Family? It was very daunting, but Lord Arryn was looking to him for an answer. "I'd name you Hand of the King just like your father." Tommen said a bit sheepishly.

A loud snort and Tommen thought the Blackfish had snuck in with them. Lord Arryn was chuckling. "You humble me, but I'm still too young. If I were you, I'd keep Lord Stark on the post. He would be your father by law. An experienced man, a proven battle commander of two wars and the Hand of your father."

"What about my grandfather? Lord Tywin?" Tommen asked.

"Ah, Lord Lannister. He is your grandfather and would defend you well, but Lannisters are ambitious, give them a taste of power and they'll desire more. They'll snatch up as many seats as they can, and shall leave the rest out in the cold."

Tommen groaned. "Why don't you just decide for me?"

"Because I'm not king." Lord Arryn said. "You'll be, and I may offer counsel, but justice flows through you, not myself. You rule seven kingdoms. Myself only a modest one." He sagged his shoulders. "But worry not, we shall make you a fine king!" He finished with such confidence that Tommen believed him.

"Well, what qualities determine a good Hand?"

"Good question." Lord Arryn praised. "Some would say blood is important. Competence. Others loyalty." He rubbed his chin. "And I think that's the most important. You need someone you can trust."

They spent all dinner talking about Starks, Lannisters, Arryns, Royces, Dondarrion, Tullys. Dozens of lords for the positions. His head was pounding from all the words and names. The candlelight was fast fading and Tommens voice was hoarse when Lord Arryn said they should both retire for the evening. His shoulder slumped. "But we still don't have a Small Council!" Tommen said.

Lord Arryn gripped him by his shoulder. "We have many years to make your perfect small council and we've made significant progress."

It was true and for the first time since the Trident; he didn't feel entirely hopeless and did the first thing that came to mind and hugged him for his efforts. Lord Arryn stiffened, patted him once, and then pushed him away. "Get to sleep." His eyes hardened and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Authors note: Next up the plot furthers in Kingslanding and Jaspers party arrives at the Bloody Gate. As always I love to see reviews. I'll actually leave a question this time though. Assuming a peaceful realm who would you appoint for Tommens Small Council. I've always loved that question, whats the 'perfect' small council.

Marixgreyjoy: As always I enjoy your ramblings. They really do help give me ideas of where I'm going. Now, I'd say in my mind Renly at his heart is a politcian. He can be charming and pleasant, but at the end of the day he's ambitious and is more than willing to stomp over a few corpses. Is he plotting to overthrow Robert? No, but does he want to sit the throne or rule as regent I'd say so. Guy has no qualms with breaking rules to achieve his objectives didn't care about killing Dany was actually in favor of it. He and Stannis could easily have stomped the Lannisters, but he calculated that he could take the throne simply with numbers. I agree with you though that Renly doesn't know about the incest otherwise he would have acted. Robert doesn't seem to hate him, and Ned sort of likes him. Tell Ned, who tells Robert, bring Maragery in. Bam! You win. Totally agree about Cersei(I hope you enjoyed Cersei POV here) She isn't a player. She's pretty much crazy in my mind. Joffrey can still cause some noise though depending how things shake out. He still has a claim because hes the eldest son despite being stripped from the line of succession. But your right and Cersei can see that. She kills Robert, Arryn, and Stark will come down with Tommen and give her the boot. Now, Cersei needs Robert. She is the last person that wants him to die. Who controls the king controls the realm. I've thought about those two one shot kills Stannis has and I'm too curious on how he uses them.

Kingmanaena:I'm glad you liked it! I try my best.

HoldingOff: I wouldn't say he's insane, but yeah if you aren't raised by either of your parents high up in an isolated castle with servants that are constantly shifted out because of Lysas paranoia and desire to keep Jasper isolated it's not going to end up with Mr. Perfect lord.

ATP:Yep

Guest: I'd say Myrcella is certainly pretty intelligent. She's a defensive player in my mind. I thought long and hard about Sandor and where to send him. Send him with Tommen and you open up much. The Little Cub gets his fierce Hound that'll rip people to shreds and would clash with Arryn honor/chivalry. But Cersei doesn't care for Tommen as much and would be more worried for Joffrey. So ultimately thats where the Hound would go in this scenario. Honestly, I feel bad for the Hound and Jamie I'd imagine they get to some Free City, and Joffrey does something stupid and they have to fight their way out. "Not this again."

LadyKatherine: Well, this chapter might annoy you even more cause Cersei has her delusional POV in it. She thinks shes a player, but she isn't. Ned plays tic-tac-to. Jasper and Myrcella play checkers. Varys and Baelish are playing chess and Cersei is just flipping the table. Tywin is interesting, I think in this case yeah Tywin would buy it cause he would have spies in Roberts party who would report to him what happened and they would say."Yeah, the little shit marred your grandaughter. Total monster. Deserved it." Otherwise he might perceive it an attack on his grandchildren and their legacy. Already, Lannister influence is starting to be curtailed. Tywin is not happy about that. He'll likely support Tommen over Joffrey at this stage, but he's certainly going to want his seat at the table. He isn't happy that Tommen is being raised by the Arryns, and is being married to Stark, but he's just baffled at how badly Cersei has messed things up. Poor Tywin. Terrible kids. Oh, and the only reason hes paying for Joffreys exile is because Jamie is with him otherwise he'd just let him die.