Upon spotting several golden-haired figures exiting the Lion's Mouth in order to greet her and her father, Cersei finally lost her patience and awkwardly spurred her horse into a gallop. She ignored the shouts of those she had been traveling with as she sped towards her Jaime. She was sore, sweaty, and tired from the ride, but it would all be worth it once she was safe in her twin's embrace. Her father had kept insisting that she stay behind and wait for the wheelhouse that carried the other women returning to The Rock from the capitol, but she was adamant that she had to see Jaime before he had to leave for Harrenhal. The fact they had been able to make the journey in less than a moon was a testament to her single-minded need to press on.
As she drew closer to her home and the welcoming party, she immediately noticed something was wrong. She saw her uncles Kevan and Tyget, her aunt Genna, and even the little monster, but her Jaime was nowhere to be found. She slid off her horse without waiting for assistance, nearly twisting her ankle in the process, then advanced on her uncle.
"Where's Jaime!" Cersei demanded before any of her family even had the chance to greet her.
"He left for the tourney more than a fortnight ago." Kevan responded in a confused tone obviously unbalanced by Cersei's breach of protocol. Genna stepped in and tried to calm Cersei.
"Come now darling, you've come a long…"
"You're lying!" Cersei screamed, interrupting her aunt. "I told Jaime that he was to wait for me. He would never have left without seeing me! Why are you keeping him from me?"
"Cersei." Her aunt replied in a much sterner tone. Whatever Aunt Genna was going to say afterwards was cut off when Tywin finally arrived. Cersei felt his iron grip on her arm as she was forced to face him. Her father on the outside was calm and collected, but in his eyes Cersei saw the white-hot anger that had yet to subside since the king took her Jaime away. When he spoke, it was in a slow, steady, and commanding tone that brooked no disobedience.
"This foolishness of yours will end now. You disgrace yourself and the name Lannister by acting like some petulant child. You will be confined to your chambers until the madness afflicting you has passed." He turned to a servant girl and ordered her to take Cersei away.
With his words, all of the frantic energy that had been driving her forward for the past moon evaporated, and she nearly collapsed. She barely remembered being guided through the Rock to her rooms. It was as if she was in a fog as she was bathed, dressed, and placed in bed. As she laid there, tears streaming down her cheeks, she fought a losing battle against her exhaustion, not wanting to return the torment that awaited her in the realm of dreams.
Ever since it was announced that the king would be appointing Jaime to the Kingsguard, she began having incredibly vivid dreams. But even her unconscious mind knew that these were not simple dreams but memories. Not only that, they were not her memories, but Jaime's. It was strange to say the least, seeing the world from his perspective. Frustratingly, the scenes she saw were short and fragmented leaving her without a complete picture.
That first night, she watched men be burned alive and heard the screams of the queen through the eyes and ears of her twin, feeling his horror and frustration. She watched as her brother's sword split the mad king's blood to save the city from wildfire, only for him to be branded as an oath breaker and Kingslayer by that northern savage. Hate began to grow in her heart towards the man; by what right does the wolf judge the lion? As the dreamlike memories began to fade, she found herself staring at an older version of herself. She had gained weight, stress lines adorned her face, dark bags were found beneath her faded emerald eyes, and her beautiful golden hair had been cut short. She watched as Jaime reached out and lovingly caressed her face, obviously to comfort her older self. Young Cersei shuddered when she realized that his sword hand had been replaced with a golden prosthetic. But despite this, her heart soared to know that no matter what the world would throw at them, they would always have each other. She then froze in horror as Jaime's hand slid down, wrapped around her older self's throat, and began to squeeze. She watched as the light of life faded from older self's eyes all while she croaked out one single word: valonqar.
Cersei had awoken with a terrified shriek. That memory had to be false, there was no way her life could have ended so. As soon as she could, she went to the Archmaester and demanded that Pycelle send a message to her brother at Casterly Rock with the fastest most reliable raven he had. She had to see her brother. She had to know that these memories were just bad nightmares. They were one soul in two bodies, he could never harm her like that. Though she knew it to be impossible, the deepest part of her soul told her that the dreams spoke the truth. She wouldn't accept it. She couldn't accept it.
Each night after that she saw more and more of Jaime's life in her dreams. She had sat with him as he endured insults as a prisoner of the Stark pup, screamed in pain as his hand was taken, wept as he stood vigil over their slain child, and recoiled and raged at the growing affection he felt for that hideous ogre of a woman. Worse still, every dream ended the same as the first: with Jaime's hands wrapped around her neck. Now that she lay once again in her childhood bed where she and her brother had truly become one, she ached for his presence like nothing before, to hear him say they were all lies. Sleep finally took her, and she prayed that this dream would be the last.
Walder took a few swings of the tourney sword and tested the weight of the shield the organizers had provided him with. He did his best to hide just how nervous he was while looking around at the boys who all sought to earn honor and glory by becoming champion of the melee. He tried to recognize some of the sigils, but even with all the effort he had put in he had only been able to memorize the Houses of the Stormlands and a handful of major houses outside of the North. He couldn't help but notice that there were no Northern squires participating in the melee, making him feel a little alone as all the other boys mingled and boasted of their skills. So, he stood out of the way minding his own preparations until he heard a voice call out.
"Hey! Stableboy! Think yourself too good to socialize with your fellow squires?" it said in a mocking tone
Walder instantly recognized the voice, and turned to level a scowl at Casper Wylde, Heir to the Rain House. Even though Casper was three years older, Walder was already able to meet his glare eye to eye.
"I'm surprised to see you so eager to interact with a filthy peasant, oh Lord of the Soggy House." He retorted in an equally derisive tone. The two boys stared each other down until they both broke out in laughter and embraced like the close friends they actually were.
Walder first encountered Casper when the Lord he was attending traveled to Storm's End to seek an audience with Lord Baratheon. As with most highborn boys, Casper was openly hostile towards Walder, thinking him unworthy of the honor of being their liege lord's squire. Things came to a head when Casper demanded a duel with Walder to 'show him his place.' After Lord Baratheon consented with a laugh and five straight losses, Casper grew frustrated and struck Walder from behind. As punishment, Casper was forced to act as a stable boy for the remainder of his stay at Storm's End. At first Walder couldn't help but feel a little smug and would enjoy watching Casper struggle in the stables. Though he eventually grew frustrated with just how poorly the young noble was performing his assigned task. Eventually, Walder stepped in and taught Casper how to do the job properly and efficiently without slipping in horse droppings every five minutes. Casper appreciated the help and humbly declared Walder to be noble in his conduct if not his birth. Once they actually began interacting on friendly terms, they began to bond over their mutual interests of fighting and storytelling. Casper was even eager to hear some of the tales of the North that Old Nan had taught Walder. By the time Casper left Storm's End, they had become fast friends. Trading lighthearted taunts and insults became a fun pastime and a way for them to jape about their first encounter.
"I'm glad to see you, Walder. Come on, the rest of us are just over here." Casper led him to where the other squires that hailed from the Stormlands gathered. A few boys greeted him warmly, others simply nodded, some ignored him all together, and yet others scowled. No matter how much effort he put in, there were always those who would look down on him. He accepted it and didn't let it bother him.
After catching up with the others for a little while, their talk shifted to the competition. One boy in particular was the main focus of all the gossip.
"See, he's over there just to the side of all the other boys from the Westerlands." Casper pointed out. Walder looked to where his friend had gestured and saw a tall boy standing off to the side of the gaggle of squires wearing a variety of Westerlands sigils. Even his own countrymen seemed hesitant to interact with him. Walder figured that the ghastly burn scars across his face had something to do with it.
"Sandor Clegane. The Mountain's little brother. He's supposedly younger than you" Casper said incredulously before continuing. "I hear that he swore himself to the Lannisters so that his brother wouldn't kill him in his sleep like the rest of his family."
"Who does he squire for?" Walder asked, unable to stop staring.
"That's the thing, he won't squire for anyone. Rumor has it he wants nothing to do with knighthood. He's just a sworn sword for the Lions." Casper said in a derisive tone. Walder grimaced at the thought while continuing to stare. Eventually, Sandor looked over and they made eye contact. Walder knew that Clegane was sizing him up and trying to intimidate him, but Walder would not be cowed, he had seen worse in Winterfell. The contest of wills dragged on for what felt like an eternity as neither boy wanted to be the first to back down, but another familiar voice caused Walder to look away.
"Walder! Look at you, all done up like a proper knight. Have you grown taller since you left Winterfell?" Lady Lyanna approached with her brother Benjen in tow.
"Good day, Lady Lyanna, Lord Benjen." He turned away from Sandor and gave them a proper bow.
"Oh, proper manners and everything." Lyanna teased.
"Walder, perhaps you would like to introduce the beautiful maiden who has graced us with her presence?" Casper interrupted with a charming smile.
"Sorry, Lady Lyanna, Lord Benjen, might I introduce Lord Casper Wylde, heir to the Rain House. Lord Casper, I have the pleasure of introducing Lady Lyanna Stark, Lord Baratheon's betrothed, and her brother Lord Benjen Stark." Walder had to suppress a laugh as he watched the hopeful smile on Casper's face falter, but the boy rallied quickly.
"It is an honor to finally meet the future lady of Storm's End. Already the bards sing of the Northern flower that captured the heart of our Lord Baratheon. And it is an honor to meet you as well, Lord Stark." The introduction had piqued the interest of the rest of the Stormlands squires and soon they all wished to introduce themselves to the future Lady Baratheon. Walder knew Lyanna well enough to see she was quickly tiring of the interactions, and was impressed by how gracefully she was bearing it. Once all the introductions had been made, Lyanna grabbed his arm and began pulling him away from the group.
"It was just lovely meeting all of you." she chirped in a perfect imitation of a little southern bird. "If you will excuse us, I have some business with my betrothed's squire. Perhaps you can entertain my brother for a few moments?" As soon as they were out of earshot she let out a heavy sigh and her smile turned into a grimace. "By the gods that was exhausting, it was worse than being paraded in front of all of father's bannermen during the damned Harvest Feast. At least they didn't see the need to flatter me with every other word. Is it going to be like that all the time in Storm's End?"
"It's just how things are in the south, my lady." Walder shrugged.
"Please, none of that between us. I've known you since you were still clinging to your mother's dress. Though you barely resemble the boy I once knew. I hope you haven't forgotten your roots." She said, giving Walder an appraising look.
"I haven't forgot where I come from." He replied no longer bothering to suppress his northern accent.
"Good, I look forward to having another Northerner with me in the south." She replied with a bright smile. "Speaking of which, there is something that requires a true son of Winterfell." She took a moment to look around and her smile turned into a grimace when she found what she was looking for.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the attack on Lord Reed would it." Walder asked, curious about what Lyanna was to ask of him. She responded by pointing out a group of squires from the Riverlands and Crownlands who were mingling together.
"Good, you already know about that. Those are the boys that thought they could get away with assaulting a Northern Lord." Lyanna pointed to boys wearing the livery of Houses Frey, Haigh, and Blount. "It would only be appropriate for a Northern squire to make sure they were humiliated rather publicly. Do you think you can handle that?" The grin she wore was rather wolfish, and Walder couldn't help but feel like he was watching a predator stalk her prey.
"I'll see it done, my lady." He declared with an exaggerated flourish. Lyanna let out a decidedly un-ladylike snort at his antics.
"Good, I have something planned for the men they serve. It should be quite amusing." She said in a sing-song voice. "Now, I believe it is customary to receive a favor from a lady before going into battle?"
She pulled out a gray piece of cloth embroidered with white wolves. And moved to tie it to his arm. He tried to step back and refuse, but she just laughed.
"If you are wanting to refuse on behalf of Robert, don't worry, I made one for him too when it's his turn to show off how strong he is."
Walder accepted the favor and moments later he heard the call for all the squires to report to the staging grounds.
"Go on then, and good luck." Lyanna smiled at him brightly before turning to collect her brother and return to the stands.
As he rejoined the rest of the Stormland squires, he noticed a few of them staring at Lyanna's gift with looks of outright jealousy. He couldn't help but smirk at those who still looked down on him for his low birth. It was Casper that actually spoke up about it.
"How does a stableboy end up with a favor from the future lady of Storm's End?" Walder knew Casper didn't mean anything by it, so he played along.
"What can I say, she likes horses."
They both laughed as they entered the tourney grounds.
Yet again Robert's thoughts turned to the Starks. He wished he could be sitting with them, but no, he was stuck between the two people he most loathed in this world. He tried to casually peer down the stands to see if he could catch a glimpse of Lyanna, but the king had leaned forward taking interest as the mummers acted out the charge of Baelor Breakspear, thus blocking his view. A pretty little serving girl came to offer him wine and an enticing smile as the play began to wind down, but Robert knew he had to be fully on guard in the precarious position he found himself in. He waved the girl off and applauded with the rest of the crowd as the troop finally finished the reenactment.
Robert was actually starting to get excited as the squires marched out and presented themselves to the royals in attendance. He cracked his first smile since entering the royal box when he saw his squire standing proud amongst the other stormlanders. To say Robert was proud of his young squire would be an understatement, and he was more than excited to see how well he stacked up against all the other squires on the field. Robert also noticed that Walder was wearing a gray ribbon around his arm. He couldn't help but let out a boisterous laugh.
"Look at that! He's already won the favor of a lady." It took a few moments of relative silence before Robert remembered his company. The King seemed to be ignoring him for the moment while muttering under his breath, while the prince looked as if he wished to respond but took a moment to glance at the king before looking away and returning to his silence. Robert just slumped back in his chair hating that he couldn't even enjoy this moment. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long before the herald announced the start of the melee.
Robert watched on impressed as Walder formed up with Casper Wylde and a boy bearing the colors of House Selmy. Robert wasn't sure, but he assumed that it was Arstan, grandson of the current Lord of Harvest Hall. Robert approved as the three boys watched each other's backs while moving with purpose towards a group of rivermen.
The event was by no means a grand display of martial prowess. The consummate warrior inside Robert groaned at the poor form and many novice mistakes displayed by the future knights. Not even Walder was beyond critique, but Robert did note that the boy seemed to have a determination and energy that more than made up for his rough edges. Walder and his allies managed to force several young squires to yield who had gotten between them and their intended target, a group of five combatants centered around a Frey.
Of course, Robert couldn't exactly hear what was being said over the din of the melee, but it was clear that Walder was calling out the group. Much to his surprise, Walder proceeded to take on three of them at once while Casper and Arstan engaged the remaining members of the group. Robert wanted to shout at his squire for being so reckless but was pleasantly surprised to see that the boy at least had a plan with how to deal with the unfavorable odds. Walder simply used his superior strength and aggressiveness to stave off and intimidate the other opponents while he focused on battering down one target at a time. Robert mused that it would have never worked if those boys weren't so green. Nonetheless, all five of the opponents were eventually dispatched by Walder and his allies, drawing a loud cheer from where many of the Northern houses were seated. Robert joined in the cheers as well, his neighbors be damned.
Walder's triumph of course led to other groups of squires wanting to test their skill against the boy who defeated three opponents at once. After about twenty minutes of continuous fighting, Casper had been forced to yield, leaving Walder and Arstan fighting back-to-back. Robert, nodded approvingly as House Selmy showed the famed martial prowess of the Marcher Lords.
Finally, the field had been whittled down to Walder, Arstan, and a group of four westermen. Robert couldn't help but feel a little apprehension as he noticed that none other than Sandor Clegane was among them. The boy who would become the Hound practically pushed two of his companions towards Arstan. The future Lord Selmy managed to force them to yield quickly since they were left off balance, but this in turn left him open to a few brutal strikes from Sandor forcing him to the ground and out of the fight.
Walder was just able to finish off his opponent in time to face Sandor's aggressive charge. The fight was vicious as both Walder and Sandor refused to give an inch. The crowd roared in approval as they were finally given a proper fight. Robert watched on eagerly as boys used every trick they knew to gain the upper hand. He even recognized a couple moves that Walder had picked up from Ser Rogers. It was impressive to think they were both at least five years away from being considered grown adults.
After about five minutes however of the back and forth, Sandor finally grew impatient and put all his strength into a powerful downward strike. Walder managed to get his battered shield up to block the blow, but it was no longer up to the task of stopping the strike and splintered under the weight of Sandor's swing. Walder's ears rang as the blunted tip of the tourney sword connected with his helmet, and it took him a few moments to realize that Sandor's sword was embedded too deep in the wood of his shield for him to pull it out and finish the fight. Walder twisted the shield and pulled back with all his might to wrench the blade from Clegane's grasp while bringing his own blade down to rest on his foe's neck, roaring for him to yield.
The crowd's cheers for a battle well fought turned to gasps and cries of foul play as Sandor simply lunged in and tackled Walder to the ground while pulling a dagger. Surprised by the move, Walder had lost his own blade and the two began wrestling for control of the dagger. A dagger that looked far too deadly to have been approved for use in the melee.
Robert stood up and was about to yell for the organizers to put a stop to the fight when he heard the King's cackling laughter.
"Let them fight!" the king yelled over the various boos and jeers of the assembled nobility. "I want to see which of them truly has the will to win!" The king turned to Robert who was still standing and watching as Walder just barely managed to avoid having the dagger slipped up under his armpit.
"Sit down Robert." The King's voice held an edge of mockery. "Have you no faith in your pet barbarian?"
"The blade looks quite real from here, of course I worry for my squire's safety." Robert shot back probably with much more anger than he should have.
"Ha!" Aerys laughed cruelly, "If the boy falls to Tywin's rabid mutt, then he won't have been worth all the effort you put into him."
Robert remained silent as he took his seat at the king's command and was surprised to finally hear the voice of Prince Rhaegar.
"That's cruel even for you, father." He said in an icy tone. The king snarled and pointed to the combatants in reply.
"If you had an ounce of the fight those two are showing you might not have been so much of a disappointment." Rhaegar looked as if he wanted to reply, but simply stood and left the box, taking his wife with him. Robert couldn't help but notice the cruel smile that King Aerys wore in response to his perceived victory over his son. Robert tried to ignore the king and continued to watch the fight.
Much to the relief of Robert and many in the crowd, Walder managed to gain momentary control of the dagger. Only for it to be knocked out of his hand a moment later as Sandor continued his aggressive grappling. Clegane was throwing knees and fists into Walder's body and Robert was amazed at the punishment his squire was absorbing while still fighting back with strikes of his own. Robert practically jumped out of his seat again in joy when Walder managed to grab one of Sandor's arms and roll into position for an arm bar. Hopefully his squire could complete it and force that beast to finally yield, but it was obvious the younger Clegane was not giving in so easily. As Walder pulled at the Hound's arm trying to lock it down, Clegane started using his free fist to try and land strikes on Walder's head. Most simply glanced off the helm, but a few struck true and bright red blood could be seen on his mailed fist. Walder endured the assault and simply pulled harder and harder until Clegane's strength finally gave out, allowing Walder to complete the hold and truly begin applying pressure.
Walder once again called out for Sandor to yield, but he stubbornly refused doing everything he could to escape. In response Walder increased the pressure until the crowd gasped at the loud popping sound of Sandor's elbow being dislocated. Without hesitation, Walder released the arm, got up on wobbly legs, and stumbled around a bit before finding his sword. Pointing it once again at the thoroughly beaten Clegane, Robert heard Walder call one more time in an exhausted but determined voice.
"Yield!"
Sandor simply groaned in pain.
"Good." Walder wheezed, dropping the sword and tearing his helmet off before falling to his hands and knees and emptying the contents of his stomach onto the tourney grounds.
A/N Another chapter down and it didn't take me a whole month! In truth, I have the general gist for the chapter or two in my head and the motivation to get them written. After that, I might hit another wall. But I am by no means giving up on this story. I want to at least past the year 283. Anyway, I originally had planned for a whole different interaction between Jaime and Cersei, but then realized that even in canon they hadn't seen each other since he stopped by the Red Keep after facing the Kingswood Brotherhood. I also enjoyed writing the fight/brawl between Walder and Sandor, I hope it lived up to he hype. Just in case it was not clear there at the end, Walder is probably suffering from a minor concussion, he'll be okay in the long run, but will be out of action for the rest of the tourney.