A Song Of Silver and Gold

by FanBoysDelight

A story which Robert Baratheon, and Cersei Lannister have a pair of true born twins with Targaryan traits, who end up being a new wonder to all of Westeros. Throughout their lives they'll be tested and challenged with adversity as they grow as royals in a medieval age. Tested by gods and faith, forced to takes side between family as a war that'll be quenched with blood rages.

6. Tourneys, Promises, and Things Inbetween

Since the arrival of so many competitors from all across Westeros looking to gain some glory and make names for themselves in the nameday tourney, trouble began to brew within King's Landing. The prince found himself at another council meeting hearing about these notions from Janos Slynt, the captain of the Gold Cloaks.

"It's the Twins Tourney, the city is packed and more people are flooding in everyday. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the street of sisters,'' he recited.

"Dreadful" Varys chimed in.

"If you can't keep the peace, perhaps the city watch should be commanded by someone who can," Renly says, popping a grape in his mouth as he eyed Slynt. "I need more men," Janos abruptly said.

"You'll get fifty, commander, Lord Baelish will see it paid for," the hand said. Alycilles looked towards the commander of the city guard, leaning forward on the table to peer closely at Slynt.

"There's more to it than just commanding more men, commander. You need to prioritize your men fluidly, station them at key parts of the city and have them keep a constant patrol in those districts. Have them maintain the patrol around those districts so they can have eyes on each side. It's not about how many men you have but using them effectively," the prince said in a stern commanding tone of one of his station.

The commander of the city watch looked a little taken aback, having trouble finding his voice. The rest of the council members simply stayed quiet as they raised their chins towards Slynt.

"As you command, my prince," Janos said with a bow.

"I'll also give you twenty of my own guard until the tournament is over, so put them to good use," Lord Stark said, rubbing his forward.

"Thank you my lord hand ser, I won't waste this charity."

The commander made his way out of the council chambers, leaving the remaining members back to their discussion.

"The sooner this is over the better" the hand said as he took a sip of water from his cup.

"The realm prospers from such events my lord. They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes" the spider said trying to find reason with Lord Stark.

"And every inn is packed full and the whores are walking bow legged" Baelish said. A snicker escaped the prince's pressed lips, but the council members caught wind. Renly found this amusing.

"We're fortunate my brother Stannis is not with us. Remember the time he proposed to outlaw brothels? The king asked him if we should outlaw breathing and shitting as well. I often wonder how Stannis ever got that ugly daughter of his," the storm lord said with a wide grin. His nephew eyed him fiercely as he heard his uncle speak with hardly any tone of regret.

"Careful uncle. That girl is your niece, your blood and mine. A child of innocence and I won't hear you make her the center of your jape," the prince said, his words slow and cold. It was silent for a while, until Renly, looking a little shook finally said, "of course."

"Well if we have nothing else to discuss my lords," Stark said, getting up from his chair. Everyone followed suit and left the chambers.

The prince took his once the other councillors left, wishing to be last to leave. On his way towards the door, he noticed Ned Stark staying behind to talk to Pycelle. Their words were quiet,as they were talking close, but he had no interest in their talk.

He ignored it and found himself trailing down the hall to find Tyrek waiting for him, casually with his hand on his hilt while he adjusted the leathers he wore.

"Alright, I think it's time to settle the wolf matter with Sansa,'' the prince said.

"Right, I nearly forgot about that wolf. Are you sure you alluded the queen" Tyrek said.

"Well enough. Keep your eyes peeled. We're not in the clear yet cousin, you never know when you'll catch the attention of the Red Keeps many lurkers" the prince said, eyeing the area.

The two made their way to the chambers Sansa Stark were settled at. Sansa's room was easy to find as he knew which way led to which rooms.

"I believe this is her room," the prince said knocking on the door in front of him loudly. It was silent for a while with the only amount of sound coming from behind the door.

They heard the door unlocking, and with a slow pull the door creaked open halfway. One blue eye peered through the crack, and when she saw who it was, her eyes widened as she pulled the door fully open revealing herself in a deep blue gown.

"My prince. What do I owe this surprise visit" the redhead said with a curtsy.

"Come lady Sansa. Let us take a walk," he told her charmingly, holding out his hand to her. Like an obedient subject, she grasped his hand and wrapped her arm around his own.

She saw his sworn shield standing to the side wearing his red leather armor with a roaring lion on his chest, as he kept a good distance.

"You remember my cousin, Ser Tyrek," Alycilles said. She nodded her head. "Good to see you ser" she said.

"Likewise my lady" Tyrek responded back with. They strolled through the halls of the Red Keep, the prince leading her through unfamiliar parts of the castle. The hallways were surprisingly quiet and they hardly ran into anyone. Those who did cross their paths simply gave them a glance and looked away.

"Tell me Lady Sansa. How have you taken to King's Landing. I hope the ladies of the court have been treating you nicely." She perked up at his question.

"Yes, the whole place is marvelous, and court is just how I thought it would be. Your sister has been showing me around and introducing me to her many lady friends. Winterfell was never this grand, and the warmth is welcoming too," she said. Her face was full of excitement at the prospect of what King's Landing offered her.

"Yes, you have the temperament of a southern girl, and the beauty," he said, locking eyes with hers. The girl's face turned the shade of crimson as she avoided his gaze but the smile on her face was obvious.

"Your words are too kind my prince," she said, caressing his arm unwittingly. Whether she meant to do it or not the prince didn't mind. Such a beauty wasted on Joffrey .

"Tell me Sansa. What do you think of my mother?" he asked. The mention of the queen must have brought up cold memories as she began to sulk. She peered her head behind her and saw Tyrek was keeping a steady distance behind them, but he was fully alert for anything it seemed with his hand on his hilt.

"Don't worry about him. I promise anything you say will be between just you and me," he spoke as he noticed her wandering eyes.

"The queen is a great beauty and is very kind to me," she spoke but the words sounded almost shaky.

"Hmm, she wasn't kind when she sentenced your direwolf to death," he said flatly.

Her face contorted from quick rage to sorrow and to a plain look all in the second the prince finished speaking. She didn't speak, just simply kept her head down as they walked.

"Come now Sansa. Tell me how you truly feel about it, and don't lie like you did at Castle Darry" he said.

She locked eyes with him and this time she didn't cower under his gaze. She held strong and the prince was slightly impressed at her unyielding eyes.

"It was wrong," she said strongly.

"Lady didn't do anything and the queen had her killed anyway. She didn't deserve that" the Stark maiden said, letting a tear run down her cheek. So there's some bite to this wolf.

He quickly whipped the tear away from her delicate face and gave her a smile. Sansa looked at him a little confused.

"It was wrong, but Lady was gone when your father went to do the deed, correct" he said.

"Even still. She's probably out there, scared and alone," Sansa sniffled.

"My lady, that's why I brought you here," he said.

Their walk had taken them to a far off corner of the Red Keep, and were now stopped in front of a wooden door with a crown stag carved into the woodwork. He saw the confusion, and wonder on her face when she turned to him.

"This is one of the rooms I occupy from time to time," he told her.

"Tyrek. Can you stand guard?" he asked his cousin.

"I'll be out here" Tyrek spoke as he turned and stood in front of the door. With that the prince turned the door handle and opened it, the thing barely making a sound. The main portion of the room was split into two separate areas connected by a short hallway. The Stark girl seemed hesitant at first but as she looked at the prince, his smile reassured her, and she gracefully followed his lead.

---

The door closed behind her and she studied the room as the prince walked towards the connecting hallway. There was a furnished long chair, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and a balcony looking onto the outskirts and courtyards of the Red Keep. Sansa found herself slowly walking towards the open area, the day time cool air whipping into her face. The sun was out, giving the city a yellow glow. She was stopped in her tracks when she heard the prince speak out.

"You can come out now," he said aloud. Alycilles stood in the center of the room as Sansa moved to stand next to him. They stood silent as the sounds of pitter pattering feet silently rang off the cobblestone. The wagging of the wolf tongue and her breathing filled the room.

The prince turned his face to hear Sansa gasping who now had both of her hands up to her face. Before them came a woman wearing a red cloak with the hood down. A woman with olive skin and straight auburn hair.

She had in her hands a leash that was attached to an excited wolf. Sansa bent down and Lady rushed to her side, engulfing her mistress with wet licks all over her face and hands.

"But how?" she asked aloud looking at the cloaked women and then to the prince. He bent down next to her and lady, "I was the one who freed Lady before your father could get to her, then I had my friend here safely escort Lady back here, where she's been keeping excellent care of her,".

Lady hearing her name spoken more and more, saw her attention turning to the prince, whipping her face to him, trying to put a couple licks on him.

He rubbed her soft fur, the wolf laying on her back as he rubbed her stomach. Her fur is soft as silk he thought. Sansa bent down close to him as she layed on her knees. "She really likes you," the Stark girl said.

"She's a spirited thing" the prince said as he dodged Ladies tongue each time she darted for his face. They played with Lady for a while, the two of them sitting together on the furnished seating with Lady resting in between Sansa's legs.

"Now Sansa, you will be able to come here as many times as you like. When you're not visiting Lady, my friend here will watch her for you" he says waving his hand towards the cloaked women.

"I am at your service, my lady," she said.

Sansa looked at the cloaked women hesitant for a second then spoke the words, "thank you," to her.

"And thank you as well Alycilles. This is the best gift anyone could give me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a close hug slightly sniffling into his shoulder. When she released herself from him she found herself placing a long peck on his cheeks. "Just make sure my mother doesn't find out," he said. She looked at him almost shocked as she realized something.

"You disobeyed her. Your mother" she asked as if he committed a crime. "That I did," he said casually. Her open mouth and wide eyes gave her such an innocent look.

"But, she's your mother. Aren't you supposed to do as she says.

"Maybe, but my mother has a habit of going to the extreme on things that don't warrant it. I couldn't watch an innocent animal fall under her wroth" the prince said.

Sansa looked up to him, marveled by the princes' mercy. She wanted to speak and say more but she couldn't find the words to express herself.

"Well I'll leave you here so you can have some time together" he said. He stood and pressed his pants down and was going to head for the door but felt Sansa grab his hand. Her hands were soft and warm and smooth. He added a little pressure as he kept his grip strong.

"Do you mind staying for awhile?" she asked, her eyes pleading with his own. He softly smiled.

"If my lady wishes it." He sat back down on the bench with Sansa talking into the night.

The day of the tournament came quickly, much to the princes liking. Since returning back to King's Landing, he's been preparing greatly. He was on his way out when one of his mother's handmaidens, Bernadette, came to inform him that the queen was requesting his presence.

The two made their way to the queens royal apartment and stopped as he simply stood outside her door. Tyrek looked at the stopped prince, confused. "Something wrong?" he asked his unmoving cousin. The prince flinched, breaking out of some trance as the words of the man awoken him.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just wondering what she could say," he said. He wondered if this was about what happened at the Ruby Ford with Joffrey.

"I'll be quick, Tyrek." The sworn shield shook his head and proceeded to stand against the wall next to the queens door. The prince exhaled some air from his mouth and knocked on the door twice loudly. He always knocked this way, which the queen took to remembering to identify his comings. From behind the door he heard her voice.

"Enter" she said, and so he did.

Her room was grand, tapestries and banners of lions all across the walls. She had the finest myrish silk carpets laid on the ground that muffled his steps. Fresh sunlight pierced through the windows, giving the room an orange glow. The Queen herself was sitting at a fine table with a red cloth atop of it. Her red dress spilling over her feet and painting the ground.

She held a goblet which the prince knew had wine in it, her favorite most likely.

She turned her head dramatically, her long mane of golden curls swaying with the movement.

"Come my son. Sit," she said sweetly. He did as she said, knowing what was coming next.

She would try to use her sweet words and return him to her favor. He wondered himself if he would fall for her spell like he did when he was a young boy. He pulled out the chair nearest to him and sat as the queen watched him do so. She smiled at him, her face glowing like gold in the sun. He looked away from it, cowering away like he was staring straight at the sun itself.

"We haven't seen each other since we've returned home. Why is that?" she asked.

"Sorry, I figured Joffrey wanted your undivided attention with his gnawed hand" he snidely replied. He didn't know why he said it the way he did, but the words just came out, along with some buried hurt in his tone.

The queen mother dropped her smile. The response didn't seem to please her and the prince was quickly regretting his choices of words.

"You're mad at me," she said matter of factly. The prince was about to speak but bit his tongue, and shook his head. He was more mad at Joffrey than his mother, but he was mad that his mother acted exactly how he expected.

"Why would I be mad at you? Joffrey was hurt and you simply did what any mother would do for their eldest," the prince said. "Let alone the crown prince." He always tried to validate his mother's reasoning when he felt her wrath coming. To save himself some hurt.

He didn't meet her eyes.

He kept them locked onto the fruit that was spread atop a small plate. With how he was speaking he assumed his mother would soon reprimand him. He knew her eyes would tell him. Cersei noticed that as a child, her second son would look away from her when he was upset. And this time was no different.

"Alycilles… your brother isn't as… strong or independent as you are. You've always been one to hold his own," she said gently, coursing her hands through his hair.

It felt nice to him.

He looked up to her, her hand rubbing against his scalp. She gave him the gentle smile he grew up seeing so little. Her green eyes were sharp and had an intensity behind them.

"As the one who will become king, your brother will need your help in sustaining his reign. I need you two to get along. For the future of our family," she spoke with honeyed words. He nodded his head obediently.

"You know I'll do anything for our family, mother," he said.

"I know you will my sweet silver" she said with a kiss to his forehead. "Well if that's all mother, I'll be taking my leave" he said, standing up from his chair. He swiftly moved across the myrish silk keeping his form forward until the voice of the queen halted him. "So I hear you're taking part in the tourney coming up," she said, her previous sweet tone gone. "Well yeah, it is for my nameday mother. It's only right that I be the one to find glory amongst others," he said with a cheeky grin turned at her.

"Sheesh. You sound like your uncle. Fools always thinking with their swords. Why must you chase fantasies. Your place is by my side in the box. Let your uncle do what he does," the queen said trying to convince her son.

"But what about what I do mother. Do you believe me to not be the same calibur a warrior as uncle," he said with a pout, and soft eyes. He had his own tricks he used on his mother as a young boy. The routine of the privileged prince always worked on her.

"What if you get hurt?" she asked.

"Boys get hurt all the time mother."

"But you're not like other boys. You've always stood out amongst others, I can't deny that," she said finishing off her wine.

"Fine, just be safe okay" she said.

"Pray to the seven that I will," he said, and with that he took his leave.

---

The sky was clear in readiness for the festivities to take place and the sun was shining bright, with nary a shadow in sight. The two boys made their way up to Visenya's Hill, the streets busy with people going to and fro.

Knights and squires were together, crowding the many smith shops looking to acquire fresh armors and blades. The tourney had everyone looking for a better arsenal, hoping the gods found them glory.

Occasionally they would turn their heads and notice the prince, but kept to themselves leaving him only looks. Each stand they passed by had a merchant asking the prince to check their wares, trying to persuade him with discounts and deals. He waved them off and the two kept their stroll to one place they had in sight. They made their way to the far end of the street up the high end of the hill and bask in the shop. It was the biggest building on the street reaching two stories. There were armored mannequins standing guard in front of the entrance. The sounds of hammering metal rung out every second and they could see the owner of the shop himself moving around. The prince moved closer to the entrance, skimming past people who were leaving themselves from having their own work done.

He saw the fresh armor they wore, and the shiny new steel they held tight to. Mott himself noticed someone entering his shop and turned with a not so shocked look on his face. The man wiped the dirt from his hands with a slightly dirty rag. "My prince, a pleasure to see you. I almost thought you forgot about me" the smith man said with a gritty smile.

"Come now Mott, Kingslanding doesn't have any other smithys with your fine quality. Plus you still have my armor and sword," the prince said happily. The old man laughed as he paced around his shop. "Ser Tyrek. A pleasure as always to see you beside the prince.

"Mott. seems your business is as good as usual" Tyrek said.

"With the tourney coming up, I'm making triple the coin I normally take in."

The sound of steel on steel caught the princes attention again. He saw someone further in the back, somewhat shrouded by smoke. He figured that was Gendry as usual.

"I hope you're taking care of that metal I made for you," he heard Mott say to Tyrek.

"Aye, it never let me down yet" Tyrek said, patting his sword at his hip side. "So, my prince. I'm sure you're eager to see your new armor set," Mott said. This caught the prince's attention as he perked his head up and shot a smile at the man. "You finished the work I commissioned for you?" the prince asked.

"Yes, right this way" he said, leading them further into the back. The back of the shop had more room, kept all of Mott's work, and where he worked. A bright light from the forge kept the place from darkness.

He saw the many armors and weapons that rested on his desk, daggers, long swords, greatswords, and axes. He took grand notice of a mannequin in the center away from the other armenants, covered in a black cloth.

"Gendry, grab the sword, you know the one" Mott shouted out. Alycilles watched as Gendry quickly moved to the table closest to him, and picked up a sword in a red sheath. That caught the prince's attention on how exquisite the detailing on it was. "This is probably the finest set I developed in all my years. Your instructions and detailings were far beyond my understanding so I had to hire extra help. Some man from out of Essos, he's gone now though."

The prince fixed himself onto the covered mannequin which he knew wore his armor.

"Well let's see it then" he said.

"Right," Mott said. He moved close to the mannequin and removed the sheet dramatically.

It was brilliant.

Something to cease the prince's breath. When he designed this armor, he was excited just from his thoughts of it, but seeing it realized now was strange.

The armor was gold plated, head to toe. The golden chest plated cuirass had a lion's head in the center of the chest with two black emeralds embedded within its eyes.

His eyes drifted down the torso to the part of his armor that resembled an abdomen. There was a gorget of black metal made to protect the neck. The vambraces were designed small to protect the forearm, but left his upper arm revealed. He likes the freedom and mobility it gave him.

For his legs he had golden greaves and a cuisse for protection. He designed the pauldrons for his shoulders in the likeness of a lions head as well. He wasn't one to be flashy at first, but when he started to design the armor he couldn't help but fantasize the details and let his mind take over.

Lastly, the one piece he admired the most was the headpiece that completed the armor. A great stag helmet with carved pieces of antlers forming around the helm like a crown, signifying his house's status. Hovering above the crown was two large antlers trimmed thin as to not be so heavy. It was tradition for Baratheon men to bear antlers in battle, and hearing the stories of the Baratheons of old only added fuel to the prince's flames of being a warrior.

The antlers were dyed dark black standing out against the golden crown. He walked around the armor to look at the back of the helmet. There was a mane of white fur sewn into the base of the helmet.

A combination of stag and lion, just like himself.

He softly rubbed the fur down its length, admiring the perfection before him. He had to admit Mott did well. He thought if he should give the man some extra gold.

"You've outdone yourself this time Mott, truly" the prince spoke kindly as his eyes stayed on his armor.

"You're too kind, my prince. But I have one more thing for you" Mott said. "Gendry, bring it forward."

Gendry came forward towards Mott and the prince, holding the sword with the well designed sheath.

"Ofcourse, the sword," Alycilles said enthusiastically. Gendry held the base of the sheath and the prince lifted his hands and gripped the hilt, steadily, adjusting to the feel of his new blade. The hilt was dark red with a red ruby at the end of the pommel.

He drew it.

The first song of the blade, cutting out all noise that polluted its birth. Alycilles couldn't help but grow a grin that any child would have when receiving a new toy. He studied the sword, the quillon was a crossguard with golden antlers wrapping around it. In the center of the crossguard was a roaring golden lion with two small gems within its eyes.

The blade itself was simple steel, freshly forged and clean. He took a few practice swings with it away from those around him, and listened to the blade. The way the air wooshed when the blade cut through its force was a song to his ears. He held it in one hand, the weight easily manageable considering its look.

It stayed upright, his grip keeping it from falling to the ground.

"Oh yeah, this will do nicely" he finally spoke.

"It's no valyrian steel, but it's one of the best swords in all of King's Landing" Mott said proudly.

The prince had to admit that he said no lies. The amount of coin he put in this blade would drive his mother into a rage. He had to make sure he didn't lose this sword. Alycilles turned to his cousin who was standing there looking proud for his cousin.

"Well Tyrek. What do you think?" he asked, holding the blade outward with his hands. Tyrek studied the sword and then looked back to the armor resting on the mannequin.

"Gods, all that gold was worth it, I'll admit, you almost make me what a set of my own" he said.

"Maybe on your nameday," Alycilles said with a chuckle putting the sword back into its sheath.

"It is superb, but it doesn't offer you any protection for your arms and legs," Tyrek said.

"Yeah, I designed it like that on purpose. I hate the feeling of full armor. It feels too heavy for me, not agile enough. With this I can move more freely than someone in full plate armor and still have the same protection it offers. Of Course I have many tricks up my sleeves, cousin. And thanks to Mott and his godly forgery who I couldn't do this without," he said winking at Mott.

"My prince, you're gonna have em on their toes," Mott simply said, taking a bow. "Anyways, here, I believe this is yours" he said holding a large coin purse that jiggled and clinked around each time he moved. The old blacksmith eyes lit up and his hairy mouth grinned.

"I'll have someone come over and gather the armor for me, but I'll be taking my sword now," he said as Mott took the coin purse from him. "

Of Course my prince," Mott said with a bow again. He removed his sword belt and attached his new steel to his right side. His basic sword that he always carried was on his left.

"Two blades eh," Tyrek said.

"I'll probably stick to the one when the tourney starts," Alycilles said, fitting his belt back to his waist.

"Alright then. We'll be heading out now that our business is done. Take care of yourself Mott. You too Gendry" the prince said as he and Tyrek made for the entrance. He heard Mott and Gendry say something as he left, and his mind wandered to Gendry. There was something familiar about him that he couldn't put his tongue too. Whenever he saw him, something at the back of his mind would cause him to double back to Gendry, like there was something more to him than he knew. The prince shrugged it off as the blinding light of the bright sun beamed down on him. He squinted his eyes, stopping as he saw a figure in front of him. Tyrek stopped next to the prince and looked at him. As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out a form and put a face to this shadow. The cold Lord Stark along with someone else.

Jory the prince remembered.

Stark seemed surprised to see him, his walking coming to a halt. "Prince Alycilles, you're an early riser. What business do you have here?" Stark asked. "Well I needed some new wares for the tourney, and Mott is the best of the best," he said, giving off a grin similar to his uncles. Stark gave him a half grin himself, not really amused.

"I should be the one surprised. What brings you here. Are you planning on taking part in the tourney yourself?" the prince continued. Stark was quite hesitant at first as his face became guarded.

"Just...hand business," he said. The prince studied his face. Stark's face was stoney and left an impression that he was done speaking. Alcyilles' smile was a sly one, "okay then," he said and made his way around the two with Tyrek keeping up with him.

"Well, that was eventful. What business do you think Lord Stark had at Motts shop?" Tyrek asked as they walked down Visenya's hill. The prince waved him off with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Hands business" he said, seeming to lose interest, but his thoughts were another thing, as he tried to wonder what Stark was hiding.

"Maybe he's finally catching on to the way the game is played," Alycilles said. "Come, we need to head to the barracks. It's about time I brought Nessi back into our fold."

Nessi's back from huh? So are your plans for Summerhall still ongoing? Tyrek asked. "Yeah, I've been putting a lot of gold into reconstructing that place. Nessi said she'd be back before my nameday to give me an update on its progress. If anything completion should be almost done so we can finally have a new residence if The Red Keep grows a little stale," Alycilles said.

They swept through the Red Keep quickly, passing servants and workers rushing back and forth, holding wood planks, banners with the crown stag and other equipment most likely in preparation for the tourney. Won't be long now.

The Barracks, home of the Gold Cloaks was a building about two stories high casting shadows down on them. The Gold Cloaks were quite active; surprisingly, they could hear roaring and shouting within the barracks. The two stopped in front of the double doors leading into the barracks, a door made out of a black barked tree, with the etchings of a cloak seared right into the middle carved into both doors.

The handles were trimmed gold, bolted on both sides of the doors. The roaring grew louder, jeering and words of encouragement breaking through the cracks of the wood.

The Gold Cloak seemed to be enjoying themselves to whatever entertainment attained them. Alright, let's see what has our men so lively," the prince said wondering what had the Gold Cloaks so venerated. Alycilles went first with Tyrek following behind him as he pushed the double doors open, the cheers of voices growing louder the further they ventured within the barracks. They came upon the inner yard where the men of the cloaks would spar with each other, testing their skills and improving themselves. They pushed through the flap leading into the courtyard and eyed two individuals moving around each other. The prince looked around and saw numerous men around the yard, hands up in the air, paying no mind to their prince. The sparring yards were covered in sawdust, tainting the prince's nose with an earthy smell. "Come one Coleman, show her what the Gold Cloaks are worth," someone shouted out.

His eyes focused back on the two in the ring, a woman and a man, each duking it out, and the lady pounding the man to the floor. She was tall, had short black hair, half dyed purple, that barely reached her ears. Her bright olive skin matched the orange lighting of the yard, adding to the fierce beauty she had. A scar on her cheek that shaped like a diagonal X, that didn't deter her allure. The prince watched the man on the ground began to pull himself back up and saw Ser Coleman, rush towards Nessi.

He quickly swung a dagger he held wildy about, as the woman who was covered in sweat and nothing but a breast band strophium and some brais, dodged the man easily. She moved with confidence, smiling as she dodged and swayed each swing Coleman made. She brought her arms up to her chest, preparing to move on the assault. After Coleman made a poor swing, she geared her arm back and connected it to Colemans face, knocking him to the ground. Coleman went limp as he hit the ground to the cheers of the Gold Cloaks.

"None of you men can handle me," she roared, thrusting both of her arms to the roof. Her arms were quite toned, muscle on muscle, yet still slim. Her abs were like a stone wall, flat with no sight of pudge or fat.

A couple of men ran onto the yard to help Coleman to his feet as Nessi strutted away when she took notice of the prince. Alycilles met her gaze, and couldn't help but form a small hint of a smile.

"Alright, time for a little reunion," the prince said as the warrior woman made her way closer. Once they were in reach, the prince held out his hand.

"Nessi, i'm glad you made it for my name da-," he tried to say but Nessi grew a cherry grin, then grabbed his arm, pulling him close to her. He felt her arm wrapped around his neck, her grip tight but comfortable. He then felt her closed hand rub his head top.

"You think I'd miss my little prince's special day," she said. Her fierceness was cute in a way that the prince couldn't deny, for a warrior woman most would find that off putting, but Nessi could charm any man on the battlefield.

Most of the Gold Cloaks were shocked as they stared at this woman so casually fraternizing with their prince. Tyrek on the other hand wasn't remotely surprised.

It wasn't so uncommon for Alycilles who had his own way with people. She let go of her grip on him as he nearly stumbled backwards, but caught himself as he straightened up his back. He looked back onto her and got a much better look at her. She stood there with her hand on her hip as she simply smiled, letting her prince finish his once-over of her.

"You look well as usual, Nessi The Fierce," he said.

"You have grown quite yourself since I last saw you Allie" she said. There was that nickname his sister had made for him.

Now every girl close to him has been using that nickname for him.

"To put it simply Allie, I've returned to King's Landing because I missed your company. Those men at Summerhall are decent company, but I grow tired of smacking them around. She moved close to him and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Happy nameday by the way," she said with a smile.

"Thank you, and you know how I feel about that name," the prince said with a red face.

"I know, but it's cute when it flusters you," she teased.

He decided to save himself from the stares he was receiving and take their talks elsewhere.

"Walk with me Nessi, tell me about the progress of our summer home," he said. The three of them made their way out of the barracks as Nessi told the prince on how Summerhalls reconstruction and the great progress the builders had made. With them going how they are, the old keep should be finished come end of summer.

The prince was quite pleased to hear that, wanting to have a place to get away too for some time that he could call his own. Kings Landing at times could be too crowded, and his family members being around almost every corner was sometimes bothersome. He loved them, but at times he wanted his alone time.

With Summerhall, he could be the lord of his own keep, even if he didn't inherit Storm's End or even Casterly Rock, he could still have something to call his own.

The servants of The Red Keep were still in a rush as the Twins Tourney was soon to start. Alycilles intended to find a page to send for his armor at Motts shops. He needed to start his own preparations for his tourney.

He was excited. Each time he saw a lord, or the son of a lord proudly displaying their banners made him somewhat anxious. He moved quicker through the Red Keep, his ambitions leading his path.

---

Sansa arrived at the Twins Tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, and her sister Arya. She was talking to Jeyne Poole about all the Knights that were in attendance, all taking to the fields. They tried to name all the seven knights of the Kingsguard who were present on the field, and they managed half of them, but one knight whose name they could never forget was missing. Jaime Lannister was absent from his fellow brothers, and Sansa was wondering where he could be. They continued to play their game at putting names to the men before them.

Lord Jason Mallister, the Lord of Seagard, and his son, Patrek, standing next to him.

Thoros Of Myr, the red priest was present, his flapping red robes and a shaved head. Others she saw who she couldn't name, but they looked threatening, even to Sansa. Ser Balon Swann.

Lord Bryce Caron of The Marches.

Bronze Yohns's Royce, and his younger brother, Ser Robar, clad in silver steel plate armor. The two twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, who both wore shields with a cluster of grapes painted on them.

Six Freys of the crossing, The Mountain That Rides lurking around, and more sons of lords and lesser lords. She eyed the man with the scarred face, The Hound, Joffrey's sword shield as she recalled. He entered the list as well she saw, as well as the king's own brother, Lord Renly of Storm's End. She could hardly breathe soaking it all in.

It was something like straight out of a book she read, and she was witnessing it all first hand. With so many names here, she believed she might be living life as one of her favorite books about a lowly girl who elevated to royalty, and she couldn't help but grow a wide smile. With all her gawking around the tourney field, she realized she failed to see Prince Alycilles anywhere. She found herself saying aloud, "I don't see Prince Alycilles anywhere," her septa, Jeyne, and Arya all heard her.

Jeyne herself began to turn her head around the tourney grounds searching herself for the silver prince. "Perhaps the prince is preparing for the tourney," Septa Mordane said. Sansa looked towards the royal box and saw most of the royal family in attendance. King Robert was sitting in his chair, a horn mug in his hands as he watched the tourney men arrive.

The Queen was there sitting next to him, her hair in a traditional southern style. She saw Princess Saphira resembling the queen herself other than her white gold hair. It was in the style of her mothers, her hair tied in braids that wrapped around her head and entwined within a circlet that was sitting comfortably wrapped around her locks. Even from where Sansa was seated she could tell the princess had to be one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros.

Her face was powdered, and painted, a light gold coloring lining her eyes. When the sun made contact with her face it would shine brightly like a porcelain statue with hair made of silk. She stared at the princess for a second more then looked at the ladies near her.

She was surrounded by ladies of great beauty as well. Each one around her was equally pretty to each other, the young Stark girl thought. Ladies she didn't know, but judging on their appearance they each had high standings. A beautiful lady of brown skin with long raven hair that fell in ringlets dressed in fine orange dress.

Another lady was a fetching beauty with a doe's soft eyes and a mane of curling brown hair that fell about her shoulders. She wore a dress of green with golden flowers sewn around them.

On the princess's other side sat her younger sister, Princess Myrcella, and two other blonde girls she figured to be Lannisters next to her. By the way they smiled at each other, they seemed to be enjoying each other's company, Sansa thought. She wanted to make her way to the princess and wish her a happy name day, but she was held back by her shyness, and the other ladies there intimidated her. She continued to watch them as the Knight of Flowers approached the stand and spoke some words to the princess. Afterwards her, and her accompanying ladies fell into jovial laughter.

She then glanced towards Joffrey who was leaning back in his chair, chin held high as his arm held his head up. Sansa wondered why he looked so uninterested. Her golden lion had a poor expression, one she didn't think Joff could make.

Her mind drifted back to Prince Alycilles, still curious about his absence. With all the tents that surrounded the tourney fields, she figured he was occupying one of them. She still had fond thoughts of him, and felt she needed to thank him again for saving Lady, and thought about leaving to find him. She debated with herself, but with so many tents, and not knowing which one could possibly be his, she stayed in her seat.

It was then her father made his appearance, Lord Stark sighing as he took his seat as he greeted his daughters. She noticed his face was somewhat similar to Joffrey's own. She hoped that would change once the tourney started.

---

The prince was in his tent, tracing a oiled rag across his new nameday sword. The blade was plenty sharp, but he wanted to keep his blade from rusting, and liked the practice of coating steel in oil. It was a sort of ritual for him whenever he got new steel. He had yet to give it a name, no matter how many of them popped in his head. Stagscorn, Lionsbane, Golden Truth, Stags Wrath, and so on.

His tent was average size, only housing his armor, some furnished chairs, fruit and wine, a table and a rug. He was surrounded by men mostly from his family's houses. His uncle Jaime was just one tent over, and had come to see him earlier.

He was thankful.

The seasoned warrior always gave the prince words of wisdom when it came to fighting in tournaments.

If his Uncle Jaime knew anything, it was the art of combat and how to bend her to your will. To master the art of ending a life and handling a weapon better than the next man.

His uncle drilled it into his head ever since he found an interest in him. It was his fourth nameday and both his uncles, Renly and Jaime, honored him with his very own swords. It was the first time Jaime had ever given the prince anything worthwhile. After that he sought his uncle out more, watched him whenever he was in the yard, studying how he moved, and how he swung his sword. He found confidence to finally confront his uncle, and begged him for lessons. The Kingslayer was reluctant, but something about the way Alycilles looked up to his uncle, made the Kingslayer weak to his pleas. And so he instilled all that he knew into his nephew.

His tent flapping loudly awoke him from his daydreaming memory to the sight of Tyrek and Nessi standing before him. "Well, what can you guys tell me,?" he asked.

Nessi was the first one to speak. "There are many knights from all over it seems."

"It seems like the host of a great army out there. Most of the Kingsguard, your families bannerman, and even the Dornish prince is here. It's quite the spectacle really," Tyrek said.

"It's a grand thing, this tourney then," the prince said gleefully.

"Your name has been floating around the fields as well. Word of you competing this year has brought out those looking to prove themselves against you," Tyrek said.

"That's no surprise," the prince simply spoke.

"So are you nervous,?" Nessi asked, curious.

The prince looked at her. His nerves weren't splitting, but even he couldn't deny the intimidating force that lay beyond his tent.

He saw the two of them waiting for his response, and he wasn't sure what to say, but a soft voice calling Alycilles' name from outside of his tent turned all their heads. The voice made his ears twitch, and was familiar to him.

"Come in, my lady," he said, sheathing his new blade. He saw two slender hands peak themselves through the flap. Milky white hands, as smooth as a fresh born babe. They then pulled themselves to the side and there stood the Flower Of Highgarden.

She had an innocent look to her small face as she scanned the room, looking at the two others before her eyes rested on the prince. His two sworn shields made their way past the girl, leaving the two alone in the princes' tent. He placed his sword down and stood up to face her.

She eyed him up and down.

He wasn't wearing anything special, but he figured that she was looking for something else.

"Happy nameday Alycilles," she said with a soft alluring tone. Her lips were parted when her words ceased, he could hear the low hitch of her voice as she breathed. He gave her one of his most charming smiles, as he walked closer to her. "Thank you my lady. Fifteen years. Almost a man grown," the prince said.

"You look beautiful, though that's to be expected from the maid of Highgarden," he teased her, eyeing herself up and down.

She seemed to notice his gawking, and with squinted eyes closed the distance between the two. "You like what you see?" she asked turning fully to face him, showing off the revealing dress she wore. Her hair swayed to the side with the tilt of her head. Her smile was like a trap for his lips, tempting him to be the first to break the barrier that stopped them.

Gods she smells good.

He took a chance and moved a hand across her waist. She didn't resist, or pull away when he pulled her close to him.

She seemed to enjoy it in fact.

Their faces were within reach of each other, lips parted, vying for contact. The last time they were like this was the last year he was at Highgarden. He shared his first kiss with her on his last day in the Reach lands. She had pulled him away, finding a secluded hallway where she timidly planted her lips on his own, hoping he wouldn't turn her down. When the prince returned the gesture, they stayed like that for minutes before he finally took his leave.

His first kiss, and here she was again.

He hadn't noticed how close their faces had gotten to each other, as his lips found hers. Their contact grew more fierce as they attacked each other's face, their lips and tongues returning to a flavour familiar to each other. Strawberries. My favorite.

The maid herself was warming with her kiss, wrapping her tongue around his, fighting for control. They separated their lips with a smack, her sweet taste still lingering in his mouth. They had a forbidden love, and for those of their stations, they had to be careful with their secret affairs.

"So what's this I hear about you being betrothed to the Stark girl," she said curiously. That caught him by surprise, and by the way Margaery looked at him she thought so too.

"It's my father's fault, the drunk fool. He promised me I could choose my bride, but the second we arrive in Winterfell he falls in love with the Starks all over again. Now he wants our houses joined," he said, the heat in his tone rising with each word.

The Highgarden maid simply watched the prince as he paced around his tent. "Joffrey can have Sansa for all I care, but I don't plan on marrying Arya," he said chillingly. Margaery let a chuckle escape her mouth. "What, you don't like the Stark girl?" she teased.

"I barely even know her," he murmured, "but I do know you."

"There are some things that even we cannot control. We must often do the biddings of our parents, for the sake of our families" she said, her voice falling low. Her gaze left the princes which made him wonder. "You remember the promise we made to each other when we were kids?" she asks, finding her voice as she moved close to him.

A quirky smirk formed on his face, "of course."

"We both promised to have no other. To be with no other but each other, and when the time comes I'd march up to your father, and demand your hand. Who is he to deny his prince," he smugly spoke.

"Oh, and do you think you can still uphold that promise?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

"Have I ever fallen through on my promises to you," he stated more than asked. She simply smirked as his hands found her waist again, her soft body forming together with her dress. She let out soft moans each time he gave her body a squeeze. She was leaning into his chest. Their foreheads together, both of them waiting to go on the attack again.

A loud VROOOOOM of a horn caused them to jump in surprise, breaking apart quickly.

"It seems, your tourney is about to begin. I should leave you so you can prepare. Less distractions the better. You'll have my brother to worry about out there," she warned.

"Loras won't be my only concern, but thanks for the words," he said. She quickly gave him a peck to his lips, "for luck," she said, and made her way out his tent.

---

Back at the tourney grounds, seats were beginning to fill as commoners and lords, ladies and whores alike were waiting in anticipation for the coming rivalry. Cersei was eyeing them all, their need to see violence was blooming, and it was like her king husband to satisfy his subjects.

She looked to her side and saw Robert there, drinking from a large horn full of whatever ale he consumed.

He was red faced and was visibly waning on patience as well. Below her were her children, gawking in every direction, most likely looking for their brother. She herself was curious. She had hoped to stop her son from taking part in this tourney, once she saw all the men who traveled so far just for her twins. She had to admit she was proud of her two silver lions. They brought love and admiration to her family from these people like they had some unknown sway over them.

Maybe it was because they resembled Targaryens so much. The people reminisced on days of old. The days when the dragon flew over their heads. Well, now it was the lion that prawled through their streets. The lion that keeps them fed. Not the dragon.

A man caught her attention, the herald, she presumed as he walked onto the field being trailed by two squires with horns. The announcer himself was dressed well, wearing a studded doublet with the colors of yellow, with a blue cape flapping on his back and puffy black pants. The squires behind him blew the two horns they held loud, which abruptly gained the looks of everyone. The man began to read from an unfurled parchment he held in front of him.

Everyone was silent as the crier wet his lips as he red from the long strip of paper. "May the tourney in celebration of the Silver Twins, Prince Alycilles, and Princess Saphiras' nameday officially begin," he said out loud with all the hints of proudness.

Cries went out loud from the ladies on the stands, and eventually the rest of their subjects erupted in cheers. Cersei looked to see what had them in an uproar and saw her son riding onto the field atop his golden steed, dawned in his gilded golden armor with a great lion resting on his chest. She was just like all the other ladies, finding herself captured by her son's grace.

He rode gallantly, she saw Jaime in him, but her son was more gorgeous, she had to admit, not even Jaime had the looks her son had at his age. He made his way riding around the tilt barrier, waving to the crowds with a bright smile across his face. Tommen and Myrcella were cheering and waving themselves as they watched their brother. He passed the stands where the Starks were sitting and stopped in front of the royal box, his destrier rose up to the sky standing on her hind legs. The horse let out a loud whinny, full of life, when her son rubbed her mane. She watched him as he hopped down from his horse, and made his way up the royal box. "Sister," he said as he stopped in front of her and held out some sort of box. He opened it and revealed a gold necklace embedded with green and blue gemstones. "May I?," he asked.

She nodded her head and stood from her seat, a bright smile stamped across her face. Everyone was watching as the prince hooked his present to her neck. The princess stood straight, her hand feeling the necklace, flaunting the fine jewelry to the crowds.

They immediately burst into applause and claps, a gift from their prince to his sister was setting the tone before the tourney started. The princess looked even more beautiful than the queen herself, and with the twins standing beside each other, they shared a radiance that was unparalleled in all the realm.

She was so lost in their faces that she almost failed to catch the look Alycilles gave her. By the time she realized he had locked eyes with her, he was already greeting her youngest. He pinched little Tommens' cheeks and patted Myrcellas' head as he kissed her forehead. She was in a heavy blush as she massaged her hair. After that he stepped back down, returning to his horse. She noticed how all those girls near her daughter had their eyes on her son the whole time he left. The Dornish princess, and Margaery Tyrell, and a couple of her Lannisters, cousins of hers, Cerenna and Myrielle, and Joy Hill. She had to keep tabs on them all she told herself to remember.

---

The first of the matches were beginning with Jory Cassel one of the first up to the list, along with Ser Horas Redwyne. Jory's armor was quite simple, blue-grey plate armor without device or ornament, along with a thin grey clock that hung from his shoulders like a soiled rag. They rode around the tilts once passing each other until Jory proved himself well as he dismounted Ser Horas. Afterwards he managed to dismount a member of house Frey, until being beaten by Luthor Brune, a man with armor just as plain. Neither of them had lost their seat, but Brunes lance was steadier, and his blows better placed, and the king gave him the victory after three passes. It was then time for the prince to compete as he rode up to the tilts to the yelling of the crowds.

They were eager to see him in action, each shout towards him sent his blood high. He was gleaming in his new armor, the lion of his chest lookin fierce as the black eye gems glared back onto the people. It was a fancy set, no doubt more valuable than most of the other competitors on the field, given his family's status. He stopped at one end of the tilt and saw his first opponent.

Meryn Trant, a member of the Kingsguard. He wasn't quite fond of Trant growing up, and the man barely said any words to him at all. This was going to be a match up where his personal feelings wouldn't get in the way.

Yes.

Personal feelings were a weakness here. He had to give it his all, no matter who he faced off against. The two made their way in front of the royal box and gave their bows to the king and queen. Once the king waved them off, they took their place back at their ends of the tilts, and waited. Meryn looked down to the prince, somewhat smirked at him, and put his helmet on. The prince simply did the same, his dark antlers casting a shadow onto the ground. He could tell the sight of him had an effect on the people. His eyes caught Sansa and the girl, Jeyne sitting close by the royal box, watching him intently.

He hoped he could give them a good show.

To his side, Tyrek appeared and gave the prince his blunted lance and shield. His cousin gave him some words of encouragement before he made his way off quickly.

At the sound of a horn, the two took off, their horses picking up speed as dust was kicked into the air. Trant's white cape was flapping in the wind, looking quite majestic in the gleaming sun. Alycilles wore his own cape, a black sewn thing with a gold stag with a crown around its neck. He raised his lance high and held his shield in place. The prince did the same as they grew closer as he focused on Trant. He tightened his grip on his lance, held it high as he grew closer and closer, until.

A loud crack shot out quick as wood splintered upon both of their shields. The prince felt himself jerk wildy and his bottom lifted from his horse. He held the reigns as best he could, when Trants lance collided with his shield. Half of the princes' shield was gone, but Trants angle was off, where else the prince aimed directly for Trants chest. Trant at the last second brought his shield up but that ploy didn't save him. The prince's lance shattered Trants shield easily, scattering pieces everywhere.

His lance met the golden armor Trant wore and lifted the man from his horse. With the amount of force the prince put into his thrust, Ser Meryn was almost flying like a bird through the air. His helmet had managed to fly off as the man landed on the field.

As Goldy made the rounds around the tilt, the prince managed to right himself atop her and steady his breathing. The people cheered for him as Trant clumsily pulled himself up from the mud. Alycilles looked at Trant. My first victory. And hopefully not my last.

He smiled as Goldy trotted in circles as the prince could see his young siblings happily cheering for him. Following the rest of the tourney he unhorsed many men that came down on him. A man named Alyn and Harwyn all fell to his lances' strike.

When his matches were over he watched the other competitors in action, Thoros of Myr was lined up at his end of the list while his opponent. A man wearing a black hound helmet being carried by a black steed. The crowd was silent, Alycilles notice as he too watched the two men charged down to each other, reaching closer and closer until the red priest shocked everyone taking down Sandor Clegane. The prince himself didn't know what to expect after Sandor unseated his uncle, Renly.

To him, it looked like Sandor was barely even trying, and with how long he knew the man he had reason to believe Thoros would be the one graveling in the dirt. He looked back to Sansa and saw her and Jeyne both gleaming with excitement on their faces. All throughout the jousting he noticed the two crying out together whenever the riders clashed with each other. Jeyne would cover her eyes whenever a man fell, like a frightened girl, but Sansa was made of sterner stuff. He, a couple of times, had seen her casting looks his way, and a couple of those times their eyes met. He would give a smile and she would return it before turning her gaze.

Thoros left the field and Alycilles watched the next riders taking to the yard, his uncle Jaime came next to his side.

"Nephew, still on the fields?" he asked. "I'm not out of this yet. You on the other hand have been having some close calls" the prince answered with. "Yes, well like you said, I'm not out of this yet. Excellent victories so far, that armor of yours still looks stainless," his uncle said.

"Thanks. Looks like your opponent is arriving," Alycilles said.

His uncle nodded his head and rode off to start his joust. He rode brilliantly, overthrowing Ser Andar Royce and the Marcher Lord Bryce Caron as easily as if he were riding at rings and then took a hard-fought match from white-haired Barristan Selmy who won his first two tilts against those much younger than himself.

Ser Gregor, The Mountain seemed unstoppable during his onslaught, all throughout the tourney, no one was able to phase the man. Earlier in the day during one of Ser Gregor's matches he rode his lance through a young knight from the Vale under his gorget with such force that it drove through his throat. Everyone was shocked by the scene. Alycilles and Tyrek simply stared at the young knight as his life's blood pumped out his mouth with each cough.

He had heard Jeyne Poole scream out in terror at the sight as he watched her cover her face. Sansa and Arya both didn't turn away as they watched the man die. The young knight's armor was shiny new, a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm as the steel caught the sun's light. The prince thought himself lucky he had yet to face the man, and felt pity for his next adversary. He watched as men came to the yard to remove the lifeless body and a boy came to dry out the blood.

His ears twitched to the whinny of a horse and took his attention as the prince's eyes wandered to his left and saw a white horse close next to him.

Atop of the horse was Loras Tyrell, slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a binding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots, looking down at him and locked eyes for a second until Loras smirked suggestively to him as his hair swayed with his movements.

Alycilles continued to watch as he handed Sansa Stark a red rose.

A false gesture if the rumors of him and my uncle are to be true .

Loras was just putting on a show he knew.

This was always like him to do, even back in Highgarden when they held tourneys, Loras would play the crowd to his charms, and whenever the two of them ended up at the ends of the tilts together they would compete to see who could gain the crowd's favor first.

Sansa said something to him, most likely her thanks and then Loras rode up to the royal boxes. The sky darkened as the clouds shrouded the sun from the tourney fields. There was an ominous feeling that came about it which gave the prince chills.

He then saw Loras' opponent.

The Mountain That Rides, Gregor Clegane, the biggest man in all of Westeros. As a kid the man absolutely terrified him, especially with all the rumors that surrounded the man. To the prince, he was the monster that hid under your bed at night, like the ones from the stories his old nannies would tell him.

He felt his own nerves racking for Loras.

He wondered if he could actually emerge victorious against such a man. As they grew closer, The Mountain's horse went to be in a frenzy near Loras' horse, moving about uncontrollably. The Mountain kicked at the horse savagely with an armored boot. The horse reared and almost threw him. The Knight of Flowers saluted the king and queen, and rode down the end of the list, and couched his lance, ready.

The Mountain brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reigns. The prince held his breath as the two horsemen strapped on their helmets and readied their lances. Could Loras be skilled enough to fell a mountain? He thought not. Even in size Gregor was like a horse himself. Sturdy and strong, and not easy to move no matter how forceful.

He heard Tyrek move to his side to watch the two riders as he spoke, "Loras against the mountain. There's no way he stands a chance, no matter how good Loras is."

Alycilles simply watched on, even though he thought the same.

And suddenly it began.

The Mountain's stallion broke into a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while the Loras' mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there , and with the blink of an eye The Mountain was falling. The man was so huge he took down the horse with him in a tangle of still and flesh. The prince heard applause, cheers, whistles, and shocked gasps. Their muttering was exciting, and over it all was the laughter of the Hound.

"Well, looks like you were wrong, cousin."

The prince looked at the Knight of Flowers reigned up at the end of the lists. His lance was still intact. His sapphires winked in the sun as he raised his visor, smiling to the crowd. Alycilles felt a little jealous at the way they cheered for him. It wasn't too long ago that they rang out for him like that, and now they found a new spectacle. In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came rushing mad to his feet. He threw off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground. His face was dark with fury and his hair fell down into his eyes.

"My sword," he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well.

Gregor killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it severed the horse's neck.

Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists towards Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist.

"Stop him," the prince shouted but his words were lost in the uproar. Time seemed to stand still for the prince as he took notice of everything that was happening around him. Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage two-handed blow that took the boy in his chest and knocked him from his saddle. Sansa was crying out, Loras was stumbling on his feet shouting for his own sword while Gregor went for him.

The prince didn't think, and just moved.

His feet carried him as he brought his shield up, preparing himself as he reached Loras. He heard shouting behind him, most likely Tyrek screaming for him to stop but he didn't. The mountain swung his sword, aiming for Loras, but the prince made it in time, and blocked the strike. The force was heavy, and nearly brought his arms down with its hard force. Loras stumbled behind the prince's legs finally finding his feet, but as Gregor lifted his sword up for another blow, a raspy voice called out, "leave him be," and a steel-clad hand yank the prince away from Gregor's range.

The Mountain pivoted in a wordless fury, swinging his longsword in a killing arc, with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow and turned it, and what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other as the prince dragged The Knight of Flowers away to safety. The prince's eyes never left the two men that stood fighting. Thrice Alycilles saw The Mountain aim for his brother's hound helmet, yet Sandor never once tried to go for a killing blow against him. It was then his father rose from his seat, looking to use his voice to put an end to it… along with twenty swords. His father always had a commanding voice, the prince hearing it plenty of times, and now he was going to hear it again. "STOP THIS MADNESS," he boomed, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!"

The Hound went down to one knee. Ser Gregor's blow cutting the air above his head, and he finally came to his senses. He dropped his sword and looked at the prince, which he found strange, then to the king.

He then turned wordlessly, strolling pass kingsguards and Gold Cloaks.

"Let him go," King Robert said, and as quickly as that it was over. There was commotion all throughout the stands.

"I owe you my life ser. You too my prince," he heard Loras say.

"I'm no ser," the Hound said to him, but Loras didn't desist. He grabbed both the Hounds hand, and the princes, and raised them to the sky. The commons then cheered them on, as they gave their love to the two. Alycilles saw his father and mother both clapping, which surprised him. Myrcella and Tommen were some of the loudest as he could make out their voices easily. Joffrey sat forward, feigning interests to not look rude. His twin, Saphira, and the ladies that surrounded him all had cherry faces as they clapped for him. He met a couple of their eyes, and couldn't help but grin ear to ear.

It was then the King decided to end the jousts for the day and resume tomorrow. The sun was going down and Alycilles remembered there's to be a feast. The prince packed up his armor and left his tent up, then left back to his chambers. He wanted to wash up quickly, and change into fresher clothing. The feast would be starting soon if it didn't start already, and the prince was eager to make his appearance.

He had to say he liked the attention. Having all eyes all him swelled his pride. The way their heads would turn just from his mere presence. It did something for him. He dismissed Tyrek so he could prepare for the feast himself telling his cousin he need not follow him to his room.

He made it to his chambers, and stripped himself of his still clean armor. He had a servant bring him a basin of warm water, as he stripped down to his smallclothes. He poured a thick liquid within the pool, some type of substance he got from Pycelle that leaves a pleasant aroma on one's skin.

The substance mixed with the warm water, as the prince stirred a clean rag within it. He scrubbed his body all over, washing away the sweat, and leaving a vanilla scent.

He liked it, the scent it left on him. He dunked his head with the basin, engulfing his whole head into the thing. He scrubbed his hair thoroughly, until his locks were soaked, then pulled his head up. Water fell down in plentiful drops, raining down his face and neck, and onto his chest.

He grabbed a bigger towel and scrubbed his head until it was dry. The filth was gone from him, and he was ready to get dressed. He made his way to his closet, a walk-in that had arrangements of outfits, some leftover from the days of his youth. He flipped through articles of clothing and he came upon an eccentric sleeveless jerkin made out of black silk with shouldered wings and laced buttons riding down the front, the color of black with gold lining.

On the left breast side, there were two golden crown stag's facing each other looking graceful, sewn with gold yarn encircling them. He grabbed a cream colored shirt and wore it under his jerkin. He wore matching black brais with them and some fine black leather shoes with wrapped laces. After combing his hair out he threw on a gold chain with circle pendants and lions carved into them, connected wrapping themselves around his chest. They were a little heavy, but the weight wasn't a bother to him. He liked how he looked. Like a true prince from out of a story, but he was real. He stood in front of the mirror that rested in his closet, and stared at himself, his clothing fitted nicely, and looked perfect on him. He threw a short gold cape over his shoulders and left his chambers.

His father had always made an event out of his children's nameday, spending large amounts of gold just to put on a show for the commoners. He let the throne room doors stay open for anyone to enter, with a red carpet leading out the entrance. The halls that led his way were empty but he could hear the chattering of people not too far away. He turned around a corner and there was the great hall. The lights lit the entrance and brought faces to the people who stood next to its doors.

Nobles and ladies alike were chatting, waiting for the feast to begin. One of the faces he saw outside was a golden one with flowing hair. His uncle stood there wearing his kingsguard armor, standing vigilant.

As he grew closer, the nobles noticed his appearance, and so did his uncle. He ignored their gazes and looked to his uncle.

"Finally you show up nephew. Your guests were getting antsy," his uncle said. The prince gave him a smirk as he crossed his arms.

"Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I showed up smelling of dirt and sweat to greet my awaiting guest. Shall we go in then," he said. His uncle nodded and followed his nephews lead as they strolled into the throne room.

The great hall was grand. The floor was polished, and glossy, their bodies reflecting off its sheen face. On each side of the hall there were feast tables lined up. There were four huge aurochs they were roasting, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised for those to take their rest at, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries. He looked around him, catching the many glances the attendees gave him.

Their attire was formal in nature, and they were dressed smartly. The ladies were in evening gowns wearing precious jewels that made them accentuate, while lords were in studded doublets, and dinner jackets as they proudly stood tall in the princes' wake. He felt at home in his place at court.

The prince saw Selwyn Tarth, the Lord of Evenfall talking to his uncle, Renly, both in deep conversation. He saw Lord Morrigen and his heir, Ser Richard Morrigen chatting it up with others. Many of the Bratheons' sworn houses were here for the feast, his father's bannermen always making the trip south. Singers voices were running through his ears, casting a pleasant tune to them. He peered at moonboy, walking on stilts and jesting at the nobles. His walk with his uncle brought them closer to the throne itself, seeing his family members sitting above the raised dais at a table with a red table skirt.

There were fresh fruits and meats lined across it, which his little brother, Tommen, and Myrcella were picking at.

His mother was eyeing him his whole walk to the table, along with his twin. Joffrey strangely enough was staring at him too as he made his way. He was wearing a deep blue doublet studded with a double row of golden lions. For a second, he thought he did something wrong.

His father then shouted down, his loud voice booming from atop his throne as he made his way closer. "About time you showed up boy, we can't get this thing started with just one of you," the king yelled out.

With that he made his way to his seat at the table, his uncle taking his place standing guard to the side. His mother was on his right side, wearing a deep red gown, a gold jewel necklace, and a tiara lace through her hair. His sister sat on his left look quite the same, dressed in a black gown and still wearing the necklace he gave her earlier, and a crown like tiara. "You look dashing brother," she said. "Likewise sister. You look stunning," he gave her.

"Now, let's get this feast started," the king said.

With that the feast started in full, servants brought dishes to their table, cutting pieces of auroch and placing pieces on his plate. Cooked salmon with sweet lemons, boiled crab and lobster, along with chicken stuffed with spinach. His sister was delicately eating slice pieces off the stuffed chicken, holding her fork like her septa taught her, and brought small pieces up to her mouth. One thing their mother made them learn was the proper way to use utensils.

"Alycilles, eat like a proper prince this time. Not like a beast," his mother suddenly said. He had picked apart some salmon he put on his plate and ignored the rest. He didn't really care what his mother thought of what he ate, but this wasn't the north anymore, and he was faced with many nobles. From his position he could see everyone else that attended the feast. He saw Lord Stark and his two daughters along with their septa. They were enjoying the feast it seemed, Arya looked to be loudly talking to Sansa as the redhead ignored her.

Closer to his table to his right were the Tyrells.

Margaery and her brother Loras, along with their mother and father were with them. Opposite of them sat Arianne Martell, closely guarded by Dornishmen. Her uncle was absent from the feast, the prince not finding it surprising. The princess would drag her uncle here with promises of tourney victories and chances to shame the Lannisters, or at least that is what Arianne tells him. He had learned quickly the bad blood Martells, Baratheons, and Lannisters had with each other, but somehow managed to convince his father to let them in his walls, with less than a dozen guards.

The music grew louder, singers letting the tune of, Fair Maids of Summer, The False and the Fair, and The Nameday Boy, cry out all throughout the hall. He knew all of these songs, even singing some himself when he was younger. He would sing for his siblings when they could barely walk, and his sisters and mother would say he had a beautiful voice whenever he sanged. So he did so often, learning song after song pleasing those with his voice.

"The songs are quite lovely, don't you think Allie,?" Saphira asked.

"Yes, they all pale in comparison to moonboys' resonating voice," the prince said. He heard a sneer escape his mother's lips as she quickly brought her goblet to her mouth. Their table was soon cleared away, servants removing the leftovers and plates. The prince knew what this meant as his mouth gave an upward turn.

"Gift time sister," he whispered over to her. She wiped her mouth with a rag as she turned to him. The first of the guests lined up with gifts in their hands. They received silver and gold jewels, books made with fine leathers, clothing and silks. The princess was given new dresses and gowns, while the prince was given new doublets and coats.

Lord Stark stepped forward along with his two daughters, the three of them holding gifts. Lord Stark was first as he held out a chainmail vest that shined like white silver. He took it from the lord. Feeling it between his hands.

"Thank you Lord Stark. I'll be sure to put this to good use," he said.

The lord bowed, then stepped aside as his two daughters walked forward. "Lady Sansa. Lady Arya. What have you two got there? Princess Saphira asked. The prince watched them as both girls moved fidgety, placing two small boxes in front of him and his sister. "What are these," the prince said absently, taking hold of the finely carved box.

His sister did the same as they both revealed two necklaces, a pendant of a stag. He noticed that the pendant seemed to be split in half. His sister said something as she leaned over to him.

"Look Allie, these two pieces seem to connect with each other," she said with exuberants. She held up her piece to him and from her eyes she wanted him to do the same. He did, and they pressed their pieces together as they connected perfectly.

"Wow, I've never seen any type of jewelry that functioned like this," the astonished prince said. The oldest Stark daughter perked her head up and spoke, "we had them specially designed that way, it's supposed to represent twin stags," she said. They disconnected them, "it's brilliant. Thank you, you two," Saphira said. "I'll cherish it forever," Alycilles said. Both of them had hopeful faces as the prince and princess put on their new gifts. The two seem satisfied, Sansa gives them a curtsy, Arya refraining from doing so, then returns to their seats. Next, the Dornish princess herself stepped forward, one of her guards holding a spear that was golden from top to bottom. A couple of the kingsguard gripped their hilts and stepped towards the dornishmen but the prince held his hand up. Arianne stepped closer to him as her guard placed the spear on the table. "My prince. May I present you with this war spear, made of pure gold and lined with a special substance on its blade," she said. He looked closer at it, peering it up and down and saw the Martell sun traced onto the blade. "Thank you Arianne," he said.

---

Cersei watched as the dornish girl left her table and took her place back below them. She saw the servants she acquired to bring forward her gifts, and stood gracefully from her chair as she rounded around the table.

"My dearest cubs. You two look splendid on this day. Allow me to present these gifts to you," the queen said. One of the servants walked forward, placing a golden tiara, encrusted with white diamonds lining all along the front. The thing was pure gold, and shinned nicely, perfectly clean and unscratched. His sister grasped it delicately, scanning the thing as she carefully rotated around. "Thank you mother, it's almost too perfect to wear," the princess said. Their mother looked pleased, then turned to her son as another servant placed a small golden harp in front of him. He caressed the curves of the harp, grazing his fingers against the strings, its voice quickly humming through the room then coming to a halt.

"I know it's been a while since you played, so I thought this might bring back some memories," the queen said. "It has been a while hasn't it. My old harp has probably gathered dust. I wonder if I remember any of my old tunes," he said. She watched him as his hands glided over the strings, adding more fingers as they worked the strings, strumming them with ease.

The sound was beautiful and mesmerizing, everyone's eyes beaming at the prince in wonder. The queen watched herself, stuck in a trance as her son played with such grace as memories flooded her mind. A familiarity came across her as she truly looked at her son.

He reminded her of Rhaegar. His hair, pleasant voice and beautiful face, but her son was not Rhaegar. He was meant to be better. A hard pluck of the harps string broke her trance as her son grimaced.

"Guess I need more practice," he said looking up to her. The crowd chuckled out, and she herself couldn't help but smile. She presented her twins with the remainder of her gifts, some nice furs for her daughter and informed her son of the ship her little brother got him.

"I'll have to thank uncle the next I see him," her son said. She smiled as she returned to her seat and grabbed her goblet and filled it with wine. She heard the clacking of heels growing closer to the table as her eyes saw the young maid of Highgarden and her brother make their appearance. The queen had a quaint relationship with the girl. Having fostered her here in King's Landing for some time when her son, Alycilles, had persisted on having her stay. This was shortly after his first visit to the reach. They were both young and she knew that their child-like bond was going to blossom into something more.

She made precautions to prevent it, but her son always found ways to work around her. His uncle, Renly, didn't help with him dragging Alycilles to Highgarden every year. She saw the way she looked at him, and the way he looked at her. "Hello Margaery, Loras," he said standing up.

"My prince," she said with a curtsy, keeping care of the box she held. The change to her son was noticeable, he stood straighter, smiled more, and gave her his full attention. She looked around and most seemed to notice as well. She looked to the table the tyrells sat at and saw Lady Alerie.

She had known the lady only through her daughters fostering, and hardly cared to further it. She must also know of her daughters… infatuation with her son. It was obvious on her face. Cersei smirked as she took a sip from her goblet, watching the two younglings exchange. Loras presented her twins with a tall falcon and for hunting. A servant quickly took the falcon and caged it.

Margaery placed the box atop the table, the thing rattling as she did so. Her son's eyes lit up as he looked up to the maid. "Is this the new cyvasse set?" he asked her as he rubbed his hand across the boxset.

"It's the latest set, yes. We played a lot back in Highgarden together, I hope your skills haven't gotten rusty. I wouldn't want to embarrass you when I utterly destroy your forces," she teased. He smirked as he leaned forward, "oh, if I remember correctly, you never once reached my king."

The maid let out a scoff, "you best get to practicing then," she said slyly. "Oh, we are so having a match before you leave, my lady." The two sent baseless banter back to each other as they talked, less about the gift he received. She heard her eldest sigh next to her, Joffrey looking uninterested the whole night so she decided to move things along.

"My son, there are still others who wish to present you and your sister with gifts. His eyes snapped away from Margaery's and to her own.

"Of course mother," he said, taking Margaery's hand who graciously let him as he planted his lips upon it, then took her leave back to her family of roses. Her son watched her the entire time. The last of their gifts were presented to them, Robert's brother Renly giving her son a fashioned bow and boar spear for hunts. Their cousin, Tyrek, gave them some nice horse saddles and studded boots.

After him the spider stepped forward, two servants placing a large chest on the table with him. Her daughter Saphira stood up next to her brother as they looked to Varys. "My prince, princess. Allow me to present you two with my gift to you. Go ahead. Open it," he said.

Her twins looked at each other, and her daughter gave her son an expression as he unclipped the lock then both of them together lifted open the head of the chest. Cersei found herself intrigued as to what the spider could have possibly got her children. She heard her daughter gasp, and her eyebrows raised.

She stood herself to get a better view and saw what the spider had gotten them. They were white stoney things with scaled gold. "What are they, rocks?" the queen said, looking as she glanced towards Varys.

"Oh, they are more valuable than rocks, I can assure you," the spider said with a sweet tone.

Her son grabbed for one the stones and gripped it in his hands. "Well, come on, let us see them," the king shouted. The twins looked at each other, then both turned to Varys who gave them a smile and bowed his head. They held them up so the whole of the throne room could see them. She honestly couldn't tell what they could be other than fancy stones, then her son said something that surprised her.

"Varys, are these….dragon eggs?" he asked, thumbing his fingers around the egg. The plump man smiled.

"That is correct, my prince. From the Shadow Lands of Ashai." Murmurs went out through all the nobles to this surprised gift. The queen's eyes widened. Dragon eggs. Real life dragon eggs. Now that she really looked at them, they did resemble large eggs. "Why though. We aren't true Targaryans. What use are they to us?" the princess asked.

"That's true, though ages have turned them to stone, they will always be beautiful," Varys said. That wasn't a lie. The eggs were both the color of silver and gold, shining like a frozen sun.

"And who knows you two. The world is full of surprises. Take care of those eggs and who knows what wonders they'll bring you," Varys said.

The prince and princess simply stared at their dragone eggs, entranced with their mere shells.

"I can picture it now. Dragons flying all over the court," the prince said. He and his sister had a laugh together, but it seems to be only shared amongst themselves as the nobles stayed quiet. King Robert himself looked wary as he was leaning forward on the iron throne, peering down at the dragon eggs himself. The queen noticed, and wondered what Robert was thinking. He had a hidden despisement for their twins. They reminded him of the Targaryans. She can see it in his eyes at times.

A blur of gold passed by her chair, taking her to her daughters side. "I want a dragon egg too," her youngest son's high voice squealed. Princess Saphira looked down to her brother, smiling at him. "I'm sorry Tommen, there's only two, but, you can come over to see them anytime," she said.

The plump prince blushed at her, nodded his head and walked back to his seat. The king gruffed and got up from the iron throne. The queen eyed him the whole time as he marched down the steps. Her son took notice as well and was watching him too as the king rounded on him. Suddenly that blacksmith, Mott, was standing before them and one of his helpers held something underneath a cloth. She watched them place the object on the table with a heavy thud as Robert moved to Mott. "My prince, your father and I have been working together on this project for some time now, and I have to say, I'm proud to present this to you on your name day," Mott said. He removed the cloth and revealed a large hammer that was just as tall as the prince himself. "Ooohs," sounded all around as people tried to lean forward to get a good look. The prince stood from his chair and anxiously grabbed the hammers shaft. The shaft was long and black with circular golden accentuated rings layered in sections. The head of the hammer was cast metal with a spiked face and a pointed horn at the butt.

The prince rotated his wrist, turning the hammer to see a well designed symbol etched into the metal with golden paint.

"The thing is a replica of my own hammer. With some differences made," the king said. Alycilles looked at both of them, his face contorted into shock with wide eyes. "Go on, give it a lift."

The prince tried to lift the hammer upwards but the weight of it made him strain. He took a few steps trying to balance himself and keep the hammer high. His father laughed loudly, "you'll need to build up some more muscle to maintain this glorious weapon." The prince laid the hammer down carefully but it came down hard, disturbing the table. His face was red as he relaxed. "Thank you father, and you too Mott." Mott bowed and soon after left the throne room while all the gifts that were given to the twins were taken away, except the eggs which they both were adamant in keeping by their side.

---

The night was growing old and getting closer to the hour of the wolf with many attendees still drinking and dancing. The prince himself danced a couple of times, with many different ladies. Pie faced Moon Boy was still dancing around on stilts, mocking the many nobles with such debt one would consider if he was truly simple.

A couple of times, Alycilles had to maneuver his way out of Moon Boy's way, dodging the fool's wooden legs as he danced. Margaery Tyrell and Princess Saphira joined Alycilles as they danced together to the soothing music. It was magical, the mixture of wine and song relaxing them. They were having fun, grinning ear to ear until they nearly tripped over each other's feet to a loud booming voice. The king had grown louder with each course. Now everybody heard him. "No," he thundered in a voice that drowned out all others.

The prince and his dancing partners stopped to see the king on his feet, red of face and reeling. He had a goblet of wine in one hand, and was as drunk as a man could be. "You do not tell me what to do, woman," he screamed at Queen Cersei. "I am king here, do you understand? I rule here, and if I say that I will fight tomorrow, I will fight!"

Everyone was staring. The prince saw Ser Barristan, and his Uncle Renly, and Baelish all look towards the king but none made a move. The queen's face was a mask, bloodless and cold that it might have been carved from snow. The prince was going to move forward and speak his voice but his sister grabbed his arm, giving a look to not interfere. With him frozen in place, the queen rose from the table, gathering her skirts around her, and stormed off in silence, walking past her son, servants trailing behind.

The prince watched his mother leave with no word or goodbye. Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him hard away. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jewel goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer, and not a man in the realm can stand before me." Jaime lannister rose and brushed himself off. "As you say, your Grace." His voice was stiff.

That was when the prince released himself from his sister who was still holding onto him. He stepped towards his father, eyes quickly turning to him. "With all due respect father, there's not a man in the realm who would dare raise their blade against their king, let alone shame him in a tourney," the prince said believably.

The king scoffed at him. "You believe that these lots would actually let me win. You don't think I have it in me to knock these fools on their asses?" the king questioned. Before the prince could respond, Renly added his own voice.

"Brother, what the prince simply means is, the privileges of a king stretch further than his court. What man wants to be known as the one who would shame their king so." The king seemed to accept that as he simply grumbled and took to his wine. With that the feast died down, many leaving and returning to their chambers for a night's rest. The prince had servants take he and his sisters gifts to their chambers, but the two brought their dragon eggs back personally. Alycilles made sure his sister made it to her room safely before returning to his own. When he entered his room he saw the servants did a good job of placing his gifts around. They covered his table, nearly full.

He saw the hammer his father gave him hanging on a weapons rack he had in his room. He cleared away some space on his dresser and put a makeshift cradle with sand inside atop it. He softly planted his egg onto the sand, it's scales glinting in the candle light that lit his room. When the egg felt stable, he removed his jerkins and breeches, stripping down to his small clothes. He felt a little chilly in his bare skin. He looked back to his egg. The sand cradle was Varys' idea, for whatever reason he didn't quite specify, but they heeded his words. The Spider was right. The egg was beautiful. Gold scales with a silver shell. Could I really hatch this thing? Could I really have a dragon of my own. He ran his hands gently over the egg, feeling the sleeping stone.

He closed his eyes in thought and smiled. A fool's dream. Maybe. He walked away from the egg and pulled back his bed skirts and plopped himself within, pulling the covers over him. He blew out the candles near his bed and sunk his head into his feathered pillow. Dreaming of dragons.