GERION

The girl quickly put down her tile. "There, a match," she said, merrily. "My hand is empty. I win!"

Gerion smiled at her. "Well done! You are… let's see… yes, three of five now." He spread his hand. "You take the crown."

"Only crown I'm like to get in my life," said Dandy with a smile. Her name was short for 'Dandelion', and her hair put you in mind of one, a frizzy, bright blonde mess. A fine girl, but too young, and too fair for… the other business. Tywin preferred his companions for a night to be dark, and it was generally better for them to be… experienced.

Dandy saw his gaze and smiled. "Shall we try another hand, lord? Make it four of seven?"

"I'm no lord, sweetling," said Gerion.

"Ahh," she said with a nod. "Ser, then."

"I'm no 'ser' either," he chuckled.

Dandy blinked. "Then what are you?"

"Just… Gerion," he replied with a shrug. "Anyways, we've not the time for another few games of tiles."

She smiled at him. "Well, Just Gerion, perhaps we can…" She bit her lip nervously and nodded towards the bed.

"We've less time for that," he said. "And as I said, surprising as it may be, I'm not in the mood for it." He seldom was, when he did this. He'd learned from hard experience that if you brought one whore, and someone chanced upon you and found you alone during the matter, people wondered and talked. But if you brought two, and people found you with one, well, they still talked, but they didn't wonder. Even if you and she wound up doing nothing but talk for the night.

I've gotten entirely too good at this, he thought, taking a swig of his drink. Dandy fidgeted nervously. "You rode at Harrenhal," she said suddenly. "I saw you."

"Saw me get unhorsed by Arthur Dayne," said Gerion with a smile. She stared at him for a moment, and then managed a nod. "That's what I do at tourneys and jousts – I get unhorsed. I've gotten unhorsed by the finest lances of the age. Ser Arthur Dayne – Lord Whent – Ser Barristan Selmy – Prince Oberyn Martell – Simon Toyne – my brother Tyg – oh, and Prince Rhaegar, of course." He gave a shrug. "I fall very nicely. My teacher praised me for it. 'Well, Geri,' he'd say, 'you'll not win any honors at the joust, but you'll not break your neck either, and that is something'." He raised his cup. "To Ser Tytos Clegane! The finest knight men have forgot!"

The girl blinked at him. "I… that name… It sounds familiar, but…"

"As I said, the finest knight men have forgot," replied Gerion sadly.

"Ooooh, I remember now!" said Dandy. "A wine merchant came up from Tumbleton a couple months ago. Said Ser Tytos and his dogs, they raided Beesbury supplies, and then spent the money they took freely in the local taverns to tweak Lord Warryn's nose. Bid the help to remember Ser Tytos for giving them the coin, and Lord Warryn for giving it to Ser Tytos."

Gerion chuckled. "That sounds like him, all right." He leaned back and chuckled. "Perhaps I'll have to start calling him the finest knight men have remembered again."

Dandy nodded, and glanced around the room, as if looking for something to talk on. She then apparently found it. "That picture is… so vividly done…"

"Ahh, yes, the great Gheirlandei of Myr's work," he said, glancing at it. "The Lothston family portrait. He captures them quite well." He pointed at the figure in the center of the canvas, a man, tall, handsome, clad all in black, with brilliant red hair, and dark blue eyes. "There's Lord Manfryd."

The girl gasped. "But that means – ! That little girl – ! 'Tis Danelle Lothston!"

Gerion nodded, and glanced at the image of the little girl at Manfryd's feet, with the same red hair and dark blue eyes as him. "Indeed. You have it."

"She looks so… sweet," muttered Dandy, staring at the painting.

"She did not long remain so," said Gerion. He gestured to the younger man with a beard standing beside Manfryd. "There is Ser Harrold Rivers, the Bastard of Harrenhal, his natural son. The woman next to him is his wife, Elys Chambers, daughter of Betha Butterwell, along with her two sisters, one of the most famed hostesses in the Riverlands." He noted that the ring on Elys' finger had a jewel shaped like an egg and sighed. Of course. An excess of subtlety is the one excess no one ever accused Manfryd o'the Black Hood of.

Dandy pointed. "Who's the septa?"

Gerion coughed. "The instructor of Danelle and before her, her… aunt. Also Harrold's mother. And yes, she was an actual septsworn septa." The girl looked at him, her eyes wide. "Trust me, my girl, whatever you are thinking, you do not know the half of it." He turned back to the portrait and sighed, looking at the hammer lying at the woman's feet. "Well, let's raise a glass to Septa Rosey. Who truly took the Seven's suggestion that we love our family to heart!"

Dandy was looking at the picture with growing unease. "Are those… did Garland paint this in a picture gallery?"

"The name is 'Gheirlandei', and yes, yes he did." Gerion watched as the girl mouthed the name out. "The pictures are of some of the late Lothstons. The man in the corner is Lord Lucas. The woman beside him is Lady Falena." Gerion looked at the image of a plain, balding man with greying brown hair, and then at the image of the stunning woman with red hair, deep blue eyes and a wicked smile beside it. "Twas she who added the bat to the coat of arms you know. Or rather suggested it. Prior to coming to Harrenhal, the Lothston arms were simply a field of gold and silver. She felt a reference to their new castle would set the Harrenhal Lothstons apart." Gerion looked at those beautiful, evil eyes and the lovely wicked smile and wondered if Lucas had decided simply being associated with such a woman was worth all the trouble she brought with her.

"The picture that little Danelle stands before, and indeed, if you look carefully, touches with her hand," he continued, "is of poor, poor Jeyne Lothston." Gerion stared at the image of the young woman, who seemed almost her mother refined, with a more spectral beauty. So sad, so mournful, and so young. Did you sense what was coming, dear, or were you mourning your sweet love sent so far from you when it was painted?

Dandy squinted. "Is that… a statue, next to her painting?"

"A bust, half in shadow," said Gerion. "You've sharp eyes. Aegon the Fourth."

The girl's eyebrow raised in puzzlement. "It don't look like him," she said. "No beard, and not half fat enow."

Gerion laughed. "It was made when he was young and handsome." He turned to regard the picture. "Manfryd had it brought in to show the king's… connection to the family. After all, without Aegon, Lucas and Falena would never have wed, nor gotten Harrenhal." Gerion stared at Manfryd's handsome, smirking face and sighed. You are doubtless laughing down in the Hells at us right now, Black Hood, he thought, both of us staring at this ghastly gauntlet you threw down to the entire Seven Kingdoms' and refusing to pick it up, even as you dare us to…

He turned away. The painting's eyes were unsettling – not just Manfryd's, but Danelle's and Harrold's and dead, dead Jeyne's, those dark blue eyes that seemed faintly luminescent in shadow. The Lothston eyes, they called 'em, Gerion thought. When Manfryd died, he had grandchildren and even a few great-grandchildren – the terms, Gerion reminded himself, were accurate – and it seemed like Harrenhal would have those eyes peering from its darkened corners for generations to come. Then came madness, sorcery and death and the family was gone, dead or scattered. Most treated them as an extinguished house, though there were always rumors of Lothstons hiding here or there, tucked into other darkened corners of the Seven Kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea. Silly rumors, really, he thought, as he looked at the painting. If there are any Lothstons left, why would they want to come back here?

"Where… where is Danelle's… mother?" whispered Dandy. "In the picture, I mean."

"Elae of Lorath was her name, and she wed Manfryd when he was exploring the mazes in her home city for his own strange purposes," said Gerion. "He rushed home with his foreign bride when he heard his sister was… dying of the pox she'd caught from old Aegon. Elae was with child." Gerion shrugged. "She gave birth and died even as her husband was at his dying sister's bedside. Afterwards, her body was sent back to her people. And so we have no images of her, none at all. So goes the tale the Lothstons told, anyway. Others have told less wholesome ones."

Dandy nodded at that. "I do not like that painting now," she muttered.

"Try looking at it for weeks upon weeks," said Gerion with a sigh. "Harrenhal is full of little reminders of the Lothstons, tucked into rooms like this. Their predecessors simply existed in Harrenhal, at best. The Lothstons lived here."

The girl crossed her arms. "Then why stay in this room?" she asked.

Gerion was quiet for a moment. "You're very perceptive," he said at last.

"Were you going to add 'for a whore' to that?" she asked, in the tone of a woman who'd heard something far too often.

"No," said Gerion with a sigh. "I've known too many whores." He looked at her. "Is your name really Dandelion?"

She nodded. "Had a bit of fair hair when I was born," she said. "Mother thought I looked like a dandelion. It only got more true."

"And where did this occur?" said Gerion, chuckling.

"Little croft on the God's Eye shore," Dandy said with a sigh. "Ain't far from here. I left young to see more the world. Only made it to Harrentown."

"You've my sympathies," he replied.

"You seen much the world, Just Gerion?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Much of the Seven Kingdoms. King's Landing. Oldtown. Gulltown. Dorne. And I've been across the Narrow Sea. Seen six of the nine Free Cities." Gerion sighed.

"Which ones you miss?" she asked, her interest obvious.

"Lorath, Norvos, and Qohor," he said. "I keep meaning to make another trip, see the mazes in Lorath, then perhaps head to Qohor and then Norvos but…" He waved his hand.

"Is it true they own people over there?" she asked.

"In many of the cities, yes," he said. "Not in Braavos." He looked at her. "You'd like Braavos."

"I hear the whores there have boats," Dandy noted, wonder and longing in her voice.

"Some of the courtesans have their own barges, yes," replied Gerion. "But the courtesans… mmm, they aren't precisely whores…"

"So what you're saying is, I'd not have a boat," sighed Dandy. "Pity. I'd like a boat." She looked at him significantly. "I'm pretty sure we could have played another hand of tiles…"

"Perhaps, but if I tied you, we'd need to play a hand of tiles after that, and trust me, we have not the time," he said with a smile. There was a tapping at that second little door that was the reason he'd taken this chamber. "Ah, there, you see? I prophesize good as any begging brother." Gerion rose from his seat, unbolted the door, and then opened it. Jaecylyn slid in, as tall, dark and lovely as he remembered her. But a trifle pale, a trifle worn, a trifle shaken, Gerion thought as he saw her. As they usually are… afterwards. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

She took a deep breath. "I… I shall be, lord. Shortly."

"I am no lord, Jaecylyn," he said.

Dandy pointed. "No, he's Just Gerion."

Jaecylyn raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "Just Gerion?"

"Just Gerion," said Dandy, nodding.

"Just Gerion," Gerion agreed.

Jaecylyn took another deep breath and sighed. "Just Gerion, then."

"Are you… are you bleeding, miss?" asked Gerion. "From… anywhere?"

She shook her head. "I… I do not think so."

Gerion nodded. "Do… do you wish me to check?" The pair of them looked at him in surprise. "I've salve and ointments in case of any… mishaps." She considered a moment, then nodded and turned. The dress swiftly pooled at her feet. Gerion looked her over, noting the large ugly red welts on her backside. He took a deep breath and sighed. "I do not see any… bleeding, but those must be extraordinarily painful." He coughed, as he went to get the salve. "Did he use a stick, or…"

"It was… a switch, I think," she said. "I… didn't exactly see… I was… I thought he'd like it if I said…"

Gerion shut his eyes. "I do not need any details." He pulled the salve from his bundle, and opened up the little jar. Dandy gave a whiff as the smell hit her.

"That's… not bad-smelling," she noted with surprise.

"The odor is balsam," he replied, as he scooped up a little ball of the substance. "That and myrrh. It will… ease the pain."

"Do you want me to… put it on?" asked Dandy.

Gerion shook his head. "There's a certain art to applying this." He glanced at Jaecylyn. "Unless you would rather I not…"

"Just get it over with, please," she said.

Gerion nodded, and dabbed it over the welts. As always happened he had a brief worry that he would feel some sort of shameful pleasure in this act, and as always happened he felt nothing but the hope he was easing another's pain. "It may sting a bit at first," he warned, "but that will soon end, and you will feel a… soothing of the pain." Jaecylyn drew in a quick breath that turned into a sigh of relief.

"Is that it then?" she asked. Gerion managed a nod. She knelt and began to get back in her dress.

"You've done this before," whispered Dandy. "Lots, I'm betting."

Gerion only shrugged at that. "We best be getting you back to Harrentown," he said. He looked over at Jaecylyn, who nodded. Dandy bit her lip, and then rose from her chair. "Now, I may totter from time to time, to… give people the impression that I'm drunk as Prince Daeron. Rest assured I am fine."

"No, that'll be when you get back," muttered Dandy softly, and was surprised when he turned to look at her.

"That is not your concern," he said, and then lead them from the room. Jaecylyn looked tired and drawn, and Dandy seemed worried. Gerion coughed. "I am… sorry for that outburst," he said. "It… I will be fine. I am always fine, after matters have… I will be fine." They nodded at that, brisk, insincere nods there were about moving on from this.

"If you need someone again," said Jaecylyn, "I should…"

Gerion shook his head. "Madam… no. With what happened tonight…" He shut his eyes. "He's always worse on a second night, when this happens. Someone fresh… he will not…" He took a deep breath. "He will… probably not want another… one. Not for a while."

"Of course not," said Dandy sourly. "He's getting married." She bit her lip, and Jaecylyn winced. They moved on in grim silence.

"Have either of you ever played cyvasse?" he asked, all at once.

"If we ask what is cyvasse, won't that be an answer?," said Dandy.

"Very true," he noted. "To answer said question, it is a game of strategy played throughout Essos. It involves a variety of pieces, among them the dragon, the elephant, the heavy warhorse…"

Dandy's mouth went wide. "Oooo, ooo, oooo, we've got a set at the Purse! A couple Tyroshi merchants brought it with them and used to play it. Then they got into a fight over a drinking bill and one of them stabbed the other, and so he got hanged!" She gave a nervous shrug. "We just didn't know what it's called. Or how it's played." She looked at him hopefully.

"I would of course be more than willing to show you," said Gerion. Dandy grinned. "It is a game of subtle strategy and fairly intricate rules."

The grin turned into a frown. "Oh, bother," she said. "That means it takes forever to learn."

"The full subtleties of the game can take a lifetime to master, yes," noted Gerion. "I've played it throughout the Free Cities."

"And at Casterly Rock?" asked Dandy.

"No, no," answered Gerion. "We… we do not play cyvasse at the Rock. We do not speak of cyvasse at the Rock. It is as if cyvasse does not exist there."

She stared at him gravely. "It's because of your brother, isn't it?"

"I have three brothers," he noted.

Jaecylyn snorted at that. "We all know who she means, Just Gerion."

He sighed. "I suppose we do. Well, , I suppose it is because of me. My eldest brother Tywin went across the Narrow Sea when he was young, but only for a very short trip, for Maelys the Monstrous was already stirring up trouble. He and Silvertongue and that rascal Saan hadn't formed the Band of Nine yet, but they were definitely putting out feelers and thus it wasn't deemed wise to stay. And so he went to Pentos, and then he came right back. But he brought with him a marvelous game, which he'd learned, a game he said that was the pinnacle of strategy and skill, and which he swore he was very good at. To prove this he beat my older brother Kevan, and then he beat my older brother Tygget. He would have tried to beat my father mostlike, but Lord Tytos declared grandly that he was too old and too drunk to learn any new games. He did not try to beat my sister at it, nor my father's squire, the first because she was a girl, the second because he deemed my father's squire completely beneath him. In either case, I suspect he would have learned a sharp lesson and the next part would not have happened."

He took a deep breath and marvelled how talking of Tywin this way made him seem less real, some distant figure, instead of a malignant presence they were leaving behind them. "Well, Tywin then decided to play me. I was… mmmm, six, I believe. He set the board up, taught me the rules, and we played. I beat him in thirty moves." Dandy snickered at this, and Jaecylyn smiled. "He demanded a second match. This time, I beat him in eighteen moves. I was on my way to beating him a third time in twelve, when he turned the board over, scattering the pieces everywhere, called me a dirty cheater, and then went away, in a sulk. My father, who was watching, burst into laughter." Dandy and Jaecylyn both laughed at that. "Needless to say, my brother did not talk of cyvasse anymore after that, and those around him followed his example. And as he was the heir, and later the Lord of Casterly Rock." Gerion waved his hand. "Well, you see how it went."

"And he's hated you ever since," said Jaecylyn.

"Oh, no," said Gerion. "He's hated me since I was born. Our mother… died shortly after I was born. Of a fever. It is… it happens. But he blames me. Same as he blames his youngest son for his wife's death." They were staring at him again, he realized. "Apologies for… letting him back into our talk. My brother does… loom so."

"You could go," whispered Dandy. "Go anywhere. Someplace far from him."

Jaecylyn looked him in the eye. "That's what I would do," she said.

"I… I really couldn't," Gerion muttered. "I am… not a rich man. I've no doubt I seem like one to you, but… what wealth I had, I spent, quickly, and now it is all debts. Debts that Casterly Rock pays. I can go, I can enjoy myself, but I must always… come back. Or one day… one day, I will find bills unpaid, and very angry men speaking to me of paying them somehow."

"And you can't think of a way out," said Dandy.

"I've thought of… one," said Gerion. "But it is a rather… desperate idea." He shook his head. "Not worth the mention. Not worth speaking of in truth." They were looking at him, their eyes filled with sympathy, and Gerion had to look away and laugh, or he would weep. "Do not worry for old Gerion. As I say, I'll be fine. I always am." The sound of a flute playing reached their ears as they walked on. "Ahh, music. Let us… leave these dark subjects, hmmm…?" They said nothing, which Gerion took as at least a conditional acceptance. It struck Gerion that he knew the tune, and as they finally came close to hear the singing, he realized his guess was correct.

"The bear smelled the scent on the summer air! The bear! The bear! All black and brown and covered with hair!" sang a trio of voices. It was one of the kitchens – though Harrenhal's kitchens were large as halls. Gerion peeked into it and saw a gathering of servants, Vances and Brackens. Barb Bracken danced in the middle of the room with a young servant girl. Both wore what looked like little more than shifts, and Barb, Gerion noted, wore her hair in a particularly unkempt manner, while smearing her face with something that made it seem dark and covered in fur.

"Oh, I'm a maiden, I'm pure and fair!" sang a high and skilled falsetto. "I'll never dance with a hairy bear!" Gerion was surprised to see that the singer was none other but Ser Ronald. "A bear, a bear! I'll never dance with a hairy bear!" The girl darted away from Barb who chased after her.

His brothers Hugo and Kirth stood up. "The bear, the bear!" they sang along with Ronald, "He lifted her high in the air!" Barb grabbed the girl and proceeded to do just that. "The bear! The bear!"

"I called for a knight, but you're a bear!" sang Ronald in his falsetto, as the servant girl mimicked struggling while doing her best to not burst into laughter. "A bear, a bear! All black and brown and covered in hair!"

"She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair," sang the Vance brothers, as Barb leaned over the younger girl, cupping one of the serving girl's breasts. "But he licked the honey from her hair!" Barb began to kiss the girl's forehead. "Her hair! Her hair! He licked the honey from her hair!" The girl began to giggle now despite her efforts not to. "Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!"

"My bear, she cooed, my bear so fair!" sang Ronald in his falsetto once again, as Barb released the girl, who stepped back and took the Bracken maid's hand.

"And off they went from here to there," sang the Vance brothers, "the bear, the bear and the maiden fair!" The music sped up and Barb, the Vances and the serving girl all formed a circle as they danced. "The bear, the bear, all black and brown and covered with hair! The maiden, so sweet and fair, the maiden with honey in her hair! The bear, the bear and the maiden fair!"

There was a whoop from the crowd and then the people there began to clap and cheer. Barbara Bracken threw her head back and laughed, even as one arm draped familiarly over the servant girl's shoulders. She turned and saw Gerion there.

"La! If it's not Gerion Lannister hisself!" She grinned at him, looking more wild than usual. "What think you of our revels?"

"They seem merry," he answered.

"They are that and more," she boomed. "Never let it be said that a Bracken doesn't know how to raise spirits and the roof as well!" She shrugged. "Your brother's scarce celebrated his impending nuptials so myself, some servants, my Vance kin and some of my less objectionable Bracken cousins have decided to do so for him!"

One of the Brackens cupped his hand to his mouth. "We love you, Barb!"

"Barb's the Bracken!" shouted several more. "Barb's the Bracken!"

Barb grinned back at them, in feigned exasperation. "Oh, la. Me da's not dead yet, cuzes." The Brackens and most of the Vances chuckled along with this. Barb turned back to Gerion and looked Jaecylyn and Dandy over. "I see you had a similar idea. And I'm willing to bet you've had as merry a time as we, if not merrier!" Gerion managed a chuckle at that, and saw, thankfully, that Jaecylyn and Dandy did as well. Barb peered at him, and batted her eyes. "I'll not lie to you, Gerion Lannister. You're a comely man, and one who I entertained the idea of getting to know better and this…" She gestured to his companions. "Well, it makes the notion most tempting. But alas, I've promised my darling betrothed I would not keep male company during his absence, save for exceptional circumstances."

Gerion raised an eyebrow at that. "And what would those be, Mistress Bracken?"

"Faith, as I said, exceptional, Gerion," she said, grinning. Somehow, Gerion found himself thinking of that portrait of Falena Stokeworth, looking lovely and dangerous.

"Well, if Roose Bolton chooses to trust in his betrothed, who am I to gainsay him?" said Gerion at last. He looked over the crowd. "Quite a remarkable… performance."

"That little thing?" said Barb with a dismissive wave. "Why, I've done it before, at my cousin Ser Hugo's wedding, with his wife's young sister." She turned to Hugo Vance. "Does she speak of me, little Bethany Keath?"

Hugo snorted and Gerion, looking at his prematurely thinning hair and flabby face, once again found himself marvelling that he was Ronald's younger brother. "Not if she can help it," said Hugo.

"Well, then I know I left a mark," said Barb with a knowing chuckle. "It's when they mention you every now and then in passing that you know you were only a night's entertainment for them. When they speak of you constantly or will not speak of you unless forced, then you are a monument." She looked at Gerion once more. "Do you care to share a drink?"

"My companions and I have… business elsewhere, and… I have drunk enough," he said.

"Well, that's a shame," she said with a surprising amount of sympathy, and then turned the serving girl's face to hers. "I suppose, my sweetling, that just gives the pair of us more time with one another, so let us go back to my chamber…"

The girl tittered. "What for?"

Barb smiled and twined her fingers into the girl's hair. "So I may lick the honey from your hair, little maiden." The serving girl laughed at that, and followed along with Barb Bracken's pulling. Soon the pair had disappeared down the hall.

"She seems a revel," said Dandy.

"So does a Tyroshi dog fight, when you first enter it," replied Gerion. "At a certain point one realizes it quite depends on one's point of view." He sighed. "Come. It's a short trip to the gate and then the King's Arms."

"You mean the Pander's Purse?," said Jaecylyn.

"The King's Arms is its proper name," replied Gerion.

Dandy chuckled. "It may be so, Just Gerion, but it's still the Pander's Purse."

Gerion nodded. "Then I defer to the ladies' judgment. Now let's get you back… well, I suppose it's not home, but the place where you rest, perhaps." Dandy leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Whatever was that for?"

"Oh, nothing really," she said. "Sympathy, I suppose. When you first walked in the Purse, I thought you was well, like most who enter. But… you ain't. You're more like us."

"I wouldn't say I have the same… profession," said Gerion unsteadily.

"No, but you certainly sell yourself to get by," she said, voice filled with a terrible pity. "And the worst part is, Just Gerion, I don't think you're getting a very good price. At all."