Chapter 1: Kings Landing
"In King's Landing there are two sorts of people. The players and the pieces..." -Littlefinger
The blistering sun shone brightly upon Blackwater Bay. The Silent Maiden, a trade ship from the Summer Isles, had just docked, carrying various assortments of goods. Sailors scurried about, trying to unload as soon as possible in order to spend more time in the brothels. After nearly two moons at sea most men had a burning that only a woman's touch could soothe.
Amongst the chaos, three women were standing, not lifting a finger to help, nor moving out of the way. Their clothes betrayed their wealth and would be deemed improper for these lands; light vibrantly coloured material, low cut in the back .
"Rest o' payment Miss. Another satchel o' gold I believe, or one o' them pretty lasses perhaps?" the gap toothed, middle aged captain spoke, uncaring towards the bear of a man that stood five paces behind them. The captain had put up with them the whole journey, had to continually remind his men that the women were not for their pleasure and that they should not act upon their desires. He'd be damned if he didn't receive some form of compensation.
The Miss raised one eyebrow slightly before reaching into her purse and handing him a pouch.
"Do not spend it all on one whore Captain, I hear the brothels here have quite the variety." Having said that, she turned around and glided towards the carriage that awaited her, three companions following close behind. She felt elated; as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It had been two summers since they'd been home. Two summers of traveling, plotting and scheming. The time to repent had finally arrived...
Eddard
He should've declined. He should've told Robert flat out that he couldn't accept the position as Hand. Starks were rumoured to have ice in their blood. They belonged in the North, where people were considered colder than the land itself, honour still had meaning and the Old Gods were ever present. Not in this choking heat where lies and deceit seemed to be the norm. Jon Arryn's discovery disturbed him; children born of incest. They'll have another Mad King on their hands sooner or later and worse even, the Lannisters will have what they've always wanted: power over the Seven Kingdoms.
He ran his hand over his face once more as he watched his youngest daughter sleep, exhausted himself, yet he couldn't rest. Arya had expressed her loathing for this place and in a bid to quell his youngest spitfire of a daughter he had agreed to let her have sword lessons. Pride swelled in his chest when he witnessed her parrying blows with Syrio Forrel. Were women allowed to become knights, he had no doubt that she would be the best one the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.
He was worried for their well-being. They weren't supposed to be here. Sansa, his kind, lovely lady-like daughter should not be betrothed to that royal prick, as Robb liked to call him. He should've made a different match, one closer to home mayhaps where he knew the people, could trust the people. He shuddered at the thought of the life she would have here and even though he knew she had a desire to become queen, she was still too innocent to the cruelty of reality. He had condemned his eldest daughter to a marriage where she would be treated like nothing but a concubine.
Robb, his eldest son, was the Warden of the North now. Such a big responsibility suddenly shoved upon his shoulders. Eddard found that he suddenly wished for more time with him; to groom and to watch him grow. He had met his son when he was nearly three name days old. He had missed his first steps and words and no matter how hard he tried to make up for it in the following years, he knew he would never be able to.
At least he had his mother with him. Although the first few summers following their marriage had been strained at best, no thanks to him, he had grew to love her fiercely. He had tried to make up for it, tried to atone for the wrong he had done to her, but knew he never could. Every time he had to leave afterward, even just for a fortnight, she had begged him to not bring another bastard into her home, and she had made sure that while he was home, that he would never stray from their bed. Catelyn, his loving, strong, beautiful wife now had to put up with so much more, especially since Bran's fall.
Bran didn't deserve such a fate. The boy was supposed to become a knight one day, protecting others. He shouldn't be fighting for his life. When he heard the news, Eddard had gone to the Gods Wood, weeping a prayer, as he begged for his son's life. Even now, away from home, he still prayed for his well-being and hoped that the old gods would somehow answer. He could still see Arya and Bran, chasing each other about, Rickon laughing for no apparent reason.
Another sudden realization set in: Rickon wouldn't know him. He wouldn't be there to watch his youngest grow into a man or help him with his sword training like he had done with Robb and Jon when he had some spare time- however rare that may have been.
Jon, his son, gone to the Wall with Benjen. He should've stopped the boy, legitimized him even. Cat had even consented once. It had been when Jon was young still and had fallen into the frozen lake, which was forbidden for them to play in. Jon and Robb had sneaked off from their studies, gone to play, when the accident happened.
He could still remember the day clearly and the fear that had accompanied it was still unparalleled. Robb running to him, red faced and crying, blubbering through sobs that Jon had fallen into the frozen lake. Eddard had never run as fast as he had that day, fueled by dread and fear. He would rather face a thousand men than see the body of his child. Upon his arrival, Jon laid still, covered in Robb's cloak, lips a pale blue. Everything that happened after was a blur: him racing back to Winterfell, to find a warm bath had been prepared for Jon in their chambers. Catelyn had taken the boy, bathed him and sat with him as he slept in their bed. When he came to her that evening she had declared that she wanted Jon legitimized, would rather have him as an equal to her children than see him gone forever.
She had tried to love Jon - perhaps even did -, but alas he couldn't dishonour her even more than he already had; no doubt she would've regretted her words fueled by grief and guilt. He had made a promise though. A promise that he'd tell Jon all about his mother upon his return. The prospect of him returning seemed highly unlikely now. He had too many worries here, problems and secrets crippling him. That was surely a huge benefactor as to why he seemed to only smile in the presence of his family, and occasionally at that too.
He sighed and thought about happier times in Winterfell, only to discover that they'd become harder to recollect. With that final thought Ned turned and left, sleep his only salvation.
Daena
Darkness had descended once more when the party of four arrived in Rosby. No more than fifteen leagues from Kings Landing, the town was near enough to be included in the gossip people seemed to be prone to spreading, but far enough to remain incognito, for now.
"Darion, be a dear and unload the trunks while your are still here," she said. Darion was a large man, brown skinned with green eyes. Toned and scarred from years of fighting, with the greying hair at his temples the only feature that betrayed his true age. He was by no means a handsome man, far from it, but they had been intimate more than a couple of times in the past, when nights became too lonely or she yearned for a release. Daena had met him in Pentos, shortly after she had fled Kings Landing the first time, almost fourteen summers past. Still young and scared herself.
The girls were little then, innocent to the cruelty of the world. Bright eyed they had stumbled upon him outside their barely there cottage, beaten to near death. Daena didn't consider herself to be a good person, but she didn't want a stranger dying in front of her door, upsetting her children. Nor did she want to answer questions or deal with vengeful kin, so she had dragged him inside and nursed him back to health. He hadn't let her journey alone since. After helping them get settled, he always wandered off on his own, only to miraculously appear once they are to depart again. His past remained a mystery to her, but then again so did hers, not that she would ever tell him the truth.
A promise was a promise after all and she intended to keep hers. The girls were wary of him at first, but after they'd helped nurse him back to health, his presence didn't frighten them anymore.
Darion simply gave her a look, but proceeded to do her bidding. She turned and walked towards the entrance of Rostine Inn, a lavish building that they would be occupying for the remainder of their stay. At that she smirked, glad that she wouldn't be paying a single penny.
...
The innkeeper looked up when he heard the door open, surprised to see a woman enter. Usually it was one of them high lords that came here to fuck their mistresses or, recently, a guest journeying back home after attending a tourney. Tall and slender, she walked towards him, black hair tied back. She wasn't old, even though she was past her child bearing days. Nevertheless she was rather pretty. Dornish probably. Her eyes were dark, almost black, he noted when she stood opposite him.
"Lady Mayor," was all she said. Her tone was deep for a woman and she spoke with an accent.
Recognition suddenly dawned. So this was the guest of the late Jon Arryn. "Ah, Lady Mayor, I trust the journey went well and you've received a proper greeting upon your return."
"Indeed, even the birds broke out in song." At those words the innkeeper nodded and reached into his pocket, producing two keys.
"I hope the stay here is to your satisfaction M'lady."
She nodded and left. Her stay had already been paid, four moons in advance and came with numerous requests: the whole upper level was to be left for her use, they were not to be bothered, no one was to be let inside, he was not allowed to question her, her fucking breads were not allowed to be sweet. Granted the last one was made up, but it made him feel slightly better in knowing that she was high maintenance and that his inn wasn't shit. All he was given was a sentence and an answer, to ensure he wasn't dealing with an imposter. No matter. He was just glad that he had received quite a large sum of coins extra for the 'inconvenience' as well as the payment before Jon Arryn's untimely death.
