Yes, I'm still here. I haven't stopped yet.

Thanks to Raiseth (on SV) and Volossya (on AO3) for beta-reading this chapter for me. Much obliged!

Trigger warning, I guess: this version of Jeord can be rather unpleasant.

The Thwarted Suitor

Since the day when he had thrown a dead hare at her – and she had given him a glimpse of how fascinatingly peculiar she was – Prince Jeord had made an effort to visit Katarina Claes as often as he could, which wasn't as often as he would have liked. In this, he was aided by his parents' indifference. They didn't seem to mind if he went missing for a few days at a time, so long as he was accompanied by a suitable retinue: his valet, one of the Kingsguard, a groom for the horses, and so on. However, because the royal court was as treacherous as any bandit camp, there were so many demands on his time and attention that he was only able to visit his betrothed once every few months.

Although they always greeted him warmly enough, Jeord noticed that the Claes family never seemed very pleased to see him, not even when he brought a freshly-killed deer or game bird for their dinner table. He suspected Katarina was afraid of him, presumably because of the ill-considered prank he'd tried to play on her the first time he'd visited her home. He bitterly regretted that now. What could he do to make amends? How could he convince his future bride that he was the man she wanted to marry? Neither of them had much choice about who they were betrothed to, so… How could he make her like him, forget the mistake he'd made, and gaze at him with as much adoration as she gave to her faithful lady-in-waiting, Sienna Nelson?

He fantasized about performing some tremendous feat of valor that would cause Katarina to swoon into his arms and declare her everlasting love for him. One day, while he was visiting the Claes Manor, he was given the opportunity to do just that, though he didn't realize it at the time.

Katarina was showing him around the garden; or rather, she had enlisted him in one of her games, which seemed to involve searching for poisonous plants and anything else that could be dangerous, apparently because everything needed to be made safe before her precious Sienna could put so much as a toe out of doors. Jeord did his best to humor her. It had occurred to him that he could insinuate himself into her good graces by acting as if he was concerned for her best friend's wellbeing.

Out of the corner of a bored eye-roll, he caught sight of something moving in the distance. It put him in mind of a rat he'd seen scurrying across the floor of his bedroom; but, at the time, he thought nothing of it.

It was only later, after they'd fetched Sienna out into the daylight and were in the process of thinking up a new game to play, that he saw it clearly: a pack of mangy wild dogs had forced their way onto the grounds of the Claes Manor and were rushing towards them. They looked maddened and half-starved, with scarred and shabby coats, slavering jaws, and wildly staring eyes.

Katarina saw them too. She turned to Sienna and cried, "Run!"

Barely a moment later, she changed her mind: she must have realized that there was no chance that they could get back to the manor house in time. Grabbing hold of Sienna's wrist, she steered her towards the nearest tree, with encouraging shouts of "Up you go!" and "I'll help you!"

It seemed as if Sienna might protest, or hesitate, or faint with fear, but then she merely nodded and began to climb, grimly determined to reach the upper branches before any of the dogs could get close enough to snap at her. A moment later, for the first time, Katarina showed some concern for her own safety: as nimble as a performing monkey, she climbed the tree next to the one she'd urged her lady-in-waiting to clamber up. Almost too late, Jeord decided that he should do the same. Fortunately, the dogs seemed uninterested in him; while they were crowding around the base of Sienna's tree, he was given extra time to ascend to a safe height.

He watched dispassionately as the dogs got on their hind legs and clawed at the tree, snarling and growling. One of them tried to leap up into the air, clashing its teeth together in a desperate attempt to snatch at its prey. Barely clinging to the branches above them, Sienna was quivering like a leaf. At any moment, it seemed as if she would fall and be ripped to shreds.

"You're safe," Katarina told her, in a gentle, soothing voice. "Nothing can hurt you. I'm here."

Jeord didn't hear Sienna's reply, but saw that she was pale and quietly sobbing.

"Let me help you with that," said Katarina, crossing over to Sienna's tree as easily as if she were stepping from one room into the next. She helped her faithful lady-in-waiting find a comfortable seat on a long, sturdy branch, so she no longer had to worry that she might fall. Then, she sat down beside her.

Several guards were approaching from the manor house, armed with long spears; otherwise, they were all but unarmoured, wearing their everyday uniforms, and looked ill-equipped for a serious fight. Jeord assumed that they must have been hastily roused and sent out to try to save him and his betrothed, even if it meant sacrificing their lives in the process. He was curious as to what they would do and if any of them would die in the attempt.

They moved cautiously, making very little noise as they crept closer. Presumably, they must have noticed that the dogs were still snarling and snapping, distracted by the two girls sitting in the tree above them, and not paying attention to their surroundings. Easy prey for an ambush, Jeord surmised.

Someone else came into view: a young man with tousled blond hair, dressed in sweat-stained protective clothing of the type worn by trainee swordsmen. It took a few moments for Jeord to recognize him as Katarina's new adoptive brother, Keith, whom he had briefly been introduced to and then only seen at mealtimes and at a distance.

Keith signaled to the house guards to halt. Raising his other hand, he caused the earth beneath him to quake and shudder. Turning on him, the dogs barked as if they were threatening to tear him limb from limb, but before they could do anything else they began to sink into the ground, as if it had been replaced with soft wet sludge. They whined piteously, but there was no escape. No matter how much they scrabbled, their paws could find no purchase. Soon, they disappeared completely, as if they had been swallowed whole. Then, there was a rumbling, grinding, crunching noise. After that, none of the onlookers dared to move until the vibrations had ceased and, at last, there was silence.

"Will that be all, Master Keith?" asked one of the guards, peering suspiciously at the patch of disturbed soil where, until a few moments ago, there had been at least a dozen wild dogs.

"Yes, I think so," he replied. Walking over to the tree where his adoptive sister and her best friend had taken refuge, he reached up to them and helped them get down safely.

"Thank you," whispered Sienna, giving him a quick hug.

Then, when she let go, it was Katarina's turn. "My hero," she said, resting her head on his shoulder and twining her arms around him. "But didn't you promise not to use your earth magic anywhere near us?"

"Yes, if there was the slightest chance that an accident might happen," said Keith. "But I've been practicing. I'm much better at it than I was. And anyway, what was I supposed to do? Leave you to die?"

"I'm just teasing." Katarina snickered. "Now, come on, I want to tell mother and father the story of how you saved us."

Keith scratched his head embarrassedly, looking rather foolish. "You don't have to."

"Oh, I want to," Katarina assured him. She took him by the hand, gave Sienna her other hand, and led them back to the manor house.

Meanwhile, Jeord descended from his own arboreal sanctuary and berated himself for his failure to act. Too late, he'd realized that he could have used his fire magic to slaughter those dogs. It would have been easy. With a single well-placed fireball, he could have reduced them all to charred corpses. But he hadn't done that. Instead, he had been a passive observer, waiting and watching while Katarina and Sienna climbed to temporary safety and then Keith became the hero of the hour.

That should have been me! Jeord wanted to scream. Why didn't I do anything?

Even if they were rabid, a pack of wild dogs should have been no threat to him. He could have eliminated them in an instant. Then, he would have been hailed as a hero and Katarina would have draped herself over him in the same way she had done with her new brother.

In the thrill of relief that had followed their rescue, Katarina and Sienna seemed to have forgotten all about him; Jeord felt as if they were deliberately shunning him for his cowardice.

"Uhh… are you well, Your Royal Highness?" asked Ser Boros Blount, a stout man with drooping jowls, who was the member of the Kingsguard that had accompanied him on this excursion. Evidently, he had arrived while Jeord was distracted by his own thoughts.

"Where were you?" Jeord demanded to know.

"You asked me to give you and Lady Katarina some privacy," Ser Boros reminded him. "Of course, I obeyed orders and stayed a respectful distance away."

"Even when we were attacked by wild dogs?"

"I hurried to you as swiftly as I could–"

"Save it." Jeord sneered at him. "I don't want to hear it."

Ser Boros gave his best impression of injured dignity. "Your Royal Highness, I–"

Having no desire to listen to any more excuses, Jeord turned away from him and hurried towards the manor house. A moment later, Ser Boros followed. He was soon out of breath and unable to speak, which Jeord was glad of.

A few moments later, after he'd entered the house, wiped his boots and joined the Claes family in the morning room, Katarina's eyes alighted on him. "Jeord, you were with us!" she exclaimed, as if she'd suddenly been reminded of that fact. "Wasn't Keith wonderful?!"

"Yes," he ground out. "He was."

But in the future, if he was given another chance, Jeord vowed that he wouldn't waste it. Next time, I'll be the hero, he told himself.

The next time he visited the Claes Manor, a few months later, Jeord noticed that Katarina looked particularly pleased with herself, as if she were a cat who'd just presented her owner with a large and juicy dead rat.

"What are you so happy about?" he asked, suspiciously, wondering if Keith had done something else to impress her.

"I've saved Anne!" she cheered, flinging her arms up in the air as if she were reaching for the heavens.

Jeord was none the wiser. "Who is Anne? What have you saved her from?"

"My personal maid. She takes such good care of me," said Katarina. Her eyes were wide and earnest. "I saved her from being married to… um, someone unworthy of her."

"How did that happen?"

"Her father, the Baron Sherry, came here and said he wanted her to marry Walder Frey. I said that she was indispensable to me and I refused to release her from my service. The Baron blustered and tried to argue, but Anne said she would much rather be my servant than be married to anyone. Then, he lost his temper and said some awful things to us, but my father told him to leave."

"Walder Frey is a noble lord, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the Riverlands," Jeord protested. There was a brief hesitation while he deduced that it was unlikely the Baron Sherry would have sent his legitimate daughter away to be someone else's servant; therefore, she must be one of his by-blows. Feeling confident in this assumption, he continued, "How could he be 'unworthy' to marry your baseborn maidservant?"

"He's more than a hundred years old, has outlived eight wives already, and has a vile reputation," said Katarina. "Anne is sweet and kind and lovely in every way. She deserves someone who would treat her like a queen."

Privately, Jeord thought it was ridiculous that Katarina was treating her maid, who was barely more than a commoner, with such tenderness and care. But then, one of his betrothed's most attractive qualities was that she seemed to care so much about the people around her, no matter who they were or the circumstances of their birth. He could only hope that, eventually, she would find room in her heart to care for him as well.

"It doesn't sound as if she was ever in danger," he pointed out. "She didn't want to get married, so she said no – and she was allowed to say no. It's not as if anyone tried to force her."

"I'm sure her father would have, if he'd thought he could get away with it. But we didn't let him." Katarina folded her arms and put on a determined expression. "She's safe now. I have to make sure she stays safe."

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Jeord asked, "Why is she so important to you?"

For a moment, Katarina looked uncertain, but she quickly rallied. "I hope that when you are king, you will take care of your people. Anne is mine – that is to say, I am her mistress – and so, I must take care of her."

Jeord knew that his father had several mistresses. He could only hope that Katarina was referring to the other kind of mistress.

"There are millions of peasants. Do you expect the king to look after all of them?" he scoffed.

"Why not? Sienna told me that a great philosopher once said that a king must be a servant to his people. Because… he must make good decisions on their behalf and… um, take the blame when things go wrong." Katarina gave a small shrug. "Or something like that. To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention."

"Foolishness," said Jeord, with a contemptuous snort.

"You may be right," Katarina meekly admitted. "I know that I'm foolish in many ways, about many things, so… I'm lucky I have Sienna and Anne and Keith and my parents to advise me."

Although he suspected that he might regret it, Jeord couldn't resist asking, "What about me?"

She looked confusedly back at him. "Do you want to give me advice as well?"

"You're my betrothed," he reminded her. "When we're married, you'll have to listen to me."

"Oh yes." She gave a hollow laugh. "When we're married, I will."

Perplexed, he stared at her, unsure of what to say. She didn't seem enthusiastic about the prospect of marrying him, but what could he do about that? It wasn't as if either of them had a choice about who they were going to marry: their parents had decided for them and that was that.

Should he tell her that she was the most intriguing young woman he had ever met, that she was beautiful and captivating, and he was fervently looking forward to the day when they were married? Or would that scare her away? He wanted her to like him, but he sensed that she didn't like him very much. What could he do to change that?

Did he want her to act like the fawning young women of the royal court, who told him how handsome, brave, and clever he was, but only thought of advancing themselves? Was that love? If anyone had asked him what love was, he would have been forced to admit that he didn't know. But he'd listened to dozens – no, hundreds – of bards singing about how perfect and sublime it was. Was that what he felt for Katarina? And, if so, how could he make her fall in love with him?

Sienna made no attempt to conceal her dislike of him, which made it difficult for Jeord to use her as his route to Katarina's heart. Nevertheless, he persevered with his attempts to charm her, smiling at her and paying her extravagant compliments. This made her scowl and Katarina go pale, which he found reassuring: if she got jealous when he trifled with another girl, it meant that she wanted him, didn't it?

One fine afternoon, Katarina insisted on speaking to Jeord alone and in relative privacy, which meant a secluded nook within the grounds of the Claes Manor, where they would be observed by only a handful of guards, gardeners, and other servants.

"I would like to know…" She began to speak, but then paused mid-sentence. Whatever she was about to say was left incomplete. She took a deep breath, gulped, and then tried again, "Um, Sienna is lovely, isn't she? Pure and sweet and beautiful as a flower in springtime, you might say."

"I might," he agreed, amused by her circumlocutions.

"She… she's my best friend," said Katarina. Her lip was trembling and she was blinking back tears. "I know she would never want to hurt me."

He didn't bother to reply.

"So… if you want her, I won't stand in your way. You don't need to worry about that," she assured him. "Please… be good to her, won't you?"

"You think I want her? To do what?" he asked. "Ignore me? Glower at me? She does both of those things very well, but why would I want to encourage her?"

"She could be your wife," Katarina suggested.

Jeord gave her a skeptical look. "She's the daughter of a penniless baron whose lands are barely larger than this garden. What makes you think she'd be a suitable bride for a prince?"

"If you loved her, that wouldn't matter. Duncan Targaryen married Jenny of Oldstones, who was much more lowborn than Sienna is–"

"And he had to give up the throne for her. I won't be doing that." Jeord wasn't sure what to say next, so he rummaged through his memories, searching for inspiration. He remembered his father talking about one of his cast-off mistresses. With a few minor adjustments, the words seemed to fit the current situation; and so, following his father's example, he said, "Sienna would undoubtedly make an enjoyable diversion for a night or two, but she could never be more than that to me. You're the only woman I want."

"How can you toy with her like that?!" Katarina demanded to know. Rage twisted her face into a snarl. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

As far as Jeord was concerned, she'd never been more attractive than she was at this moment. He couldn't resist the urge to keep taunting her.

"Oh, very easily," he said, smirking. He watched her reaction, drinking in her beauty, imagining what it would be like to–

There was a sharp crack. Pain blossomed across the left side of his face. She'd slapped him, he realized, after a moment's befuddlement.

Ashen-faced, Katarina withdrew her hand as if she'd been stung. She shrank back, mumbling, "I'm sorry."

Before she could retreat to a safe distance away, Jeord grabbed her arm – the same arm she'd used to slap him – and held it up in front of him, as if examining it.

"I could have your hand cut off for that," he teased her. "It would be dipped in pitch, mounted on a spike, and then people would come from miles around to look at the traitorous hand that dared to strike the crown prince of Sorcier!"

"Please don't," she said. "I didn't mean to."

"Obviously you meant to, or you wouldn't have done it," he pointed out, pulling her closer and coiling his other arm around her.

She was trembling. Her face was wet with tears.

"Don't worry, I know how you can redeem yourself," he said, tilting her head to make it easier for him to kiss her on the lips.

She struggled feebly, but he kissed away her tears and held her in his arms until she stopped trying to escape. After that, he wasn't sure what he would have done next if they hadn't been approached by one of the maids, who told them that dinner was nearly ready and they should prepare themselves. Katarina gratefully seized upon this excuse to leave so that she could wash her face and put on some fresh clothes.

Jeord spent some time alone, in brooding contemplation, before he followed her back to the manor house. He was already regretting his earlier actions. What had seemed like a golden triumph was already turning to ash and failure. Too late, he considered the possibility that making his betrothed feel angry and afraid wasn't the best way to win her affections.

When he visited the Claes Manor again after that, Jeord was relieved when Katarina greeted him as she usually did, as if she had forgotten how distressed she'd been when they'd last met. However, he was unpleasantly surprised to see Keith standing next to her, looking stern and protective.

"Good morning, Your Royal Highness," said Katarina, giving him a curtsey.

"Please call me Jeord," he replied. "By now, we're long past the formalities. After all, we're going to be married in a few years' time."

"Good morning, Jeord," she said, obediently. Her face was a smiling mask.

"I thought we could spar, you and I, Your Royal Highness," said Keith. "You have a reputation as a fine swordsman. I look forward to putting that to the test."

"That's an idea," said Jeord. "But I don't have suitable clothes – or a weapon."

He had his sword with him: nearly three feet of gleaming steel. However, it was sharply pointed and deadly, not something he should use in a friendly spar.

"We have clothes you can borrow. Blunted swords as well," said Keith with a careless shrug. "Shall we?"

Because he had no better plans for the day, Jeord assented. It took some time for the two of them to put on padded clothing, arm themselves, and head to the practice area that was where Keith normally trained, which happened to be a good distance away from the manor house and surrounded on all sides by a ring of trees. Katarina followed them, intending to spectate. She agreed to be their referee, to wave a hand to signal when they should begin as well as shout for them to stop.

They took their places opposite one another, Katarina gave the signal, and they began. Jeord surged forward, trying to score the first point with a single thrust, but then Keith sidestepped out of his way and jabbed him in the back. The blunted tip of his sword was cushioned by layers of padding, but it still struck hard enough to bruise, causing Jeord to wince.

"A point to Keith!" cried Katarina, her eyes shining with excitement.

From then on, Jeord was more cautious. He focused on defending himself until he saw a chance to bat Keith's sword aside and stick him in the chest.

"A point to Jeord," said Katarina, unnecessarily.

After that, they seemed evenly matched. Every time one of them gained a temporary lead, the other would soon even the score. It seemed like their contest could go on forever without there being a clear winner, which meant that they had to agree on when to end it.

"First to ten points is the winner, shall we say?" asked Jeord, taking a few deep breaths.

"If you like," Keith replied.

Jeord reluctantly had to admit that Keith's footwork was excellent. His feet were always squarely planted on the ground and he seemed perfectly well-balanced. However, he wondered how quickly he would be able to react to sudden changes. Would he be able to reposition in time or would he be too slow? Whenever he tried to knock Keith off-balance, he usually ended up paying for it, as he had done after that first wild thrust, but there must be a way…

There was a loud clang as their weapons struck together again. Jeord had attempted to strike Keith's sword near the tip and knock it as far out of position as possible, giving him a clear opening through which to thrust. Instead, a splinter of metal flew off the end and disappeared into the bushes, narrowly missing Sienna, which Jeord was especially surprised by since he had forgotten that she was even present.

Keith was left holding a long piece of metal with a sharply jagged end. He examined it with a careful eye. It looked deadly.

"Shoddy workmanship," said Jeord, trying to make a joke of it. "I'd complain, if I were you."

"To whom?" asked Keith, without much interest.

"Well, you – or your father – must have got these swords from someone," said Jeord, wondering if he'd just made a fool of himself. "The local blacksmith, maybe?"

Lowering his sword, Keith gave a perfunctory nod and beckoned Jeord closer, so that he could whisper in his ear and not be overheard by anyone else.

"You made Katarina cry," he said, in a soft, condemnatory voice.

For a moment, Jeord wondered if he'd misheard him. "What? That was months ago."

"Yes," Keith whispered. "And if you do it again, I'll kill you. Even if it means that I'll be executed or sent to the Wall, I'll kill you."

Idly, he drew a pattern in the dust with the sharply jagged edge of his sword, as if to suggest how easily it could slice through the soft flesh of Jeord's throat.

Various responses flashed through Jeord's mind: "I'd like to see you try," and "Not if I kill you first," and so on. But each of them seemed more unhelpful – and more likely to goad Keith to violent action – than the last. Instead, he gave a curt nod and backed away from him.

"I forfeit," said Keith, throwing down his broken sword. "Good match." He walked over and clapped Jeord on the back, which should have been a companionable gesture. However, it wasn't a coincidence that he'd struck harder than necessary in a place where Jeord was already bruised, knocking the breath out of him and nearly forcing him to his knees.

"Jeord is the winner! Hurrah!" cried Katarina, giving him a dazzlingly fake smile.

For a few moments, the sounds of Sienna's unenthusiastic clapping reverberated across the clearing. "All hail the conquering hero," she said, sardonically.

After that, Jeord decided to leave time for tempers to cool and his past mistakes to be forgotten, so it wasn't until more than six months later that he visited Katarina again.

He would have waited longer, but then, one evening, his father remarked, "It's been a long time since you visited your betrothed. I've heard that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' so is that what you're hoping for?" He laughed uproariously, as if he'd just been told a funny joke. "Maybe it'll work, but don't leave her too long or someone else will have taken your place."

"I doubt she'd be stupid enough to dally with someone else," said Jeord. "She and her family would be disgraced if she did."

"You think she doesn't have eyes? Thoughts and wishes of her own? That there aren't handsome young men all over Sorcier who'd be queuing up to court her if they thought they had a chance?" King Robert snorted derisively. "Maybe you're the stupid one."

"All right, I'll visit her," said Jeord, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"That's a good lad," said King Robert. "Why don't you take Nicol and Sophia with you? The future rulers of Sorcier should get to know each other early, don't you think?"

Although his father seemed to take it for granted that the Ascart siblings would grow up to be hugely influential simply because their father was the current Hand of the King, Jeord wasn't so sure. Nicol was an intelligent young man, but he struggled to articulate his thoughts, so he usually stayed silent and was dismissed as a vacuous pretty boy. Sophia was an exquisitely beautiful albino who was the subject of some vicious rumors spread by people who were jealous of her good looks and high status. Neither of them put up much of a fight against the malicious gossip of the royal court and Jeord suspected that they would be happier somewhere else: out in the countryside, perhaps, as the rulers of their own little fiefdom, where they would be surrounded by good friends and golden fields, and never have to worry about anything worse than bad weather or poor harvests.

Before he'd befriended King Robert, who had elevated him to his current position and made him Earl of Rainwood, Daniel Ascart had been the rightful ruler of a few tiny villages and a crumbling ruined castle, which was another reason why the royal court treated his son and daughter with such scorn. Sometimes, Jeord couldn't help but wonder if Nicol and Sophia wouldn't have been better off with their father's original holdings.

Nevertheless, Jeord agreed to take them with him when he next visited the Claes Manor. It occurred to him that Katarina seemed to care deeply about her friends, so perhaps if he introduced his friends to her she would start to care about them as well, and then he could use them as levers with which to influence her.

Nicol and Sophia didn't seem to mind the long journey; in fact, they seemed glad of the opportunity to be away from King's Landing for a few days.

When they reached the Claes Manor, they waited patiently while Jeord took charge of introducing them to Katarina and her friends.

"This is Lord Nicol Ascart, son of the Earl of Rainwood," he said, ushering him forward.

Katarina's eyes lingered on Nicol's handsome face and trim, athletic physique for longer than Jeord was happy with. Still, before the silence could go on for long enough to be uncomfortable, she smiled and said, "Good morning, Lord Nicol – would you mind if I just called you 'Nicol'?"

"I don't mind," he replied.

"I've heard that your father is an excellent Hand of the King," Katarina trilled, making an effort to keep the conversation going in spite of Nicol's terseness.

He inclined his head. "So they say."

"And this is Lady Sophia Ascart, Nicol's sister," said Jeord, linking arms with her as if he were escorting her into a ballroom. She gave a little snort of laughter at that.

Whereas Katarina had admired Nicol's good looks, she seemed quite overcome by Sophia's. "Oh, Sienna, isn't she gorgeous?!" she cried, reaching for her best friend's hand and clutching it tightly.

"She is," Sienna agreed, as if stating an incontrovertible fact.

"You think I'm… pretty?" asked Sophia, tentatively.

"Of course!" cried Katarina. "Don't you?"

"Everyone says I look like an old woman," Sophia mumbled.

"What about your parents? Or your brother?" asked Sienna. "Don't you trust them to tell you how lovely you are?"

Sophia laced her fingers together and looked nervous. "They are kind, but… they love me, so they say exactly what I would expect them to say. And, even if I was monstrously ugly, they wouldn't tell me that."

"What about Jeord?" asked Katarina.

"He once said that he wanted to marry me, but that was when we were both children, and it was only because he didn't like any of the other girls," Sophia confided.

Katarina muttered something under his breath; Jeord couldn't quite hear what she was saying except for a few words that sounded like 'flower in springtime'. Then, marshaling her facial features into a determined expression, she said, "Perhaps you and he should get married. Does he protect you from the people who've been saying nasty things about you?"

"Sometimes," said Sophia. "And my brother does. Which is why the bullies tend to wait until I'm on my own before they start muttering about how ugly I am and how I must've been cursed by the gods."

"They think you're cursed?" asked Katarina. "How?"

"Because of the way I look. With my white hair, red eyes, and skin like a corpse."

"Oh yes, you've been cursed to be as delicately beautiful as a snowflake!" cried Katarina. "How terrible!" She threw back her head and laughed. "I only wish that I'd been cursed in the same way you have been!"

"Don't say such things!" Sophia warned her. "The gods are not mocked!"

"I'm sorry," Katarina replied, meekly averting her gaze. "That was wrong of me."

There was a brief period of silence until Sophia plucked up the courage to ask, "You… you really think I'm beautiful?" It was as if she still couldn't believe it.

"Divinely so," said Katarina. "As if you were the Maiden given flesh."

Sophia looked as if she was about to berate Katarina for blaspheming again, but then Sienna said, "I'm sure the greatest artists who've ever lived would weep to be given a chance to paint you."

Tears poured down Sophia's face, but she couldn't suppress a delighted smile. "Please don't mock me," she said, trying to be cautious. "I couldn't bear it."

"I'm not mocking you. Every word I've said has been the truth. You are very beautiful and I'm sure that anyone who has said otherwise was just jealous," said Katarina. "Now, come here, my dear." She threw her arms around Sophia and hugged her tightly. "While you are my guest – and whenever I am with you – I will look after you and defend you from anyone who would say cruel things about you."

"Th-thank you," said Sophia, hiding her tear-streaked face in Katarina's budding bosom.

Nicol smiled to see them getting along so well. Jeord was more ambivalent: he was beginning to regret bringing the Ascarts along with him on this trip.

While they were riding back to King's Landing the next day, Nicol drew alongside him, slowed his horse to a gentle trot, and said, "She seems nice."

"Who are you referring to?" asked Jeord, allowing his horse to keep plodding on regardless.

"Lady Katarina."

"Oh, her," said Jeord.

There was a pause while Nicol considered what he was going to say next. "You're going to marry her," he said, after a few moments. "Aren't you?"

Jeord cast his mind back to the day before. There was no denying that Katarina had tried hard to make her guests feel welcome, treated them with great care and respect, and kept them entertained, watered, and well-fed. However, the problem was that she didn't seem to treat him – her future husband – any differently from anyone else. She certainly didn't look at him as affectionately as she looked at Keith and Sienna. It was as if he meant less to her than either of them.

"Possibly," he said, grumpily. "She doesn't seem very keen."

Another pause.

"Well," said Nicol, at last. "If you don't marry her, maybe I will."

Jeord had to bite back on an angry rebuke. He knew that Nicol didn't mean any harm by what he'd just said, no matter how infuriating it was. Thus, instead of shouting and raging, he forced himself to remain calm while he asked, "What makes you say that?"

After some consideration, Nicol replied, "I've always said that anyone I got married to would have to treat Sophia well. Katarina does that."

"I understand," said Jeord, with a nod.

"It's not often I see Sophia looking so happy," said Nicol. "Katarina did that. So, if you don't want her–"

"It's not that I don't want her," Jeord interjected, cutting him off before he could say anything more. "It's just…" His shoulders slumped. "It's complicated."

Nicol reached across and patted him on the shoulder. "Good luck."

'Are you saying that because you mean it or just to have something to say?' Jeord wanted to ask. On the other hand, he wasn't interested in prolonging this conversation any further, so he said nothing.

Months later, on a sunny afternoon, Jeord was standing with Katarina and Sienna, in the gardens of the Claes Manor, next to an ornamental pond, when they were attacked by a swarm of bees. When he heard the furious buzzing and saw the mass of black and yellow dots moving towards him, he felt strangely paralysed, distant and alienated from the events that were going on around him, as if a play was being staged only a few feet away and he was in the audience.

With a mighty effort, he managed to shake himself out of this passive state. He forced himself to react, to be ready, and to prepare for the onslaught. This was his chance to be a hero.

He hurled a fireball at the swarm. Hundreds of them fell as charred husks, but there were thousands more. They sped towards him, intent on stinging him and the two girls next to him. He fired again and again, incinerating vast numbers of them. Even so, there were still more to come.

Then, they were upon him. One of them stung his hand. Screaming, he threw a blast of fire that would have hit Sienna if Katarina hadn't pushed her into the pond a few moments before. He was stung dozens of times, even after he created a flaming barrier around himself.

At last, there were no more bees. Every part of his body seemed to hurt. He wanted to scream and cry and beg for some milk of the poppy to take the pain away.

Even though she'd been stung more often than him – and he'd set fire to the sleeve of her dress – Katarina's only concern was for Sienna. "Don't be dead!" she cried, dragging her best friend out of the water. "Please! I need you!"

Wild-eyed and panicked, she looked up, saw Jeord, and yelled, "Help me! She's not breathing!"

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, feeling useless and bewildered.

"RUN AND GET HELP!"

He did so, but it wasn't long before he was overtaken by the Duchess Miridiana running in the other direction. Whirling around, he chased after her, just in time to see her drag Katarina out of the way, crouch down next to Sienna, pinch the unconscious girl's nose shut, and then breathe into her mouth. She did this a couple of times, sighed sadly, felt for Sienna's pulse, breathed into her mouth again, placed her hands over the central part of her chest, and then pressed down so hard that Jeord was convinced he heard something crack.

Almost as soon as Miridiana began these chest compressions, Sienna opened her eyes, coughed up a lot of water, vomited, and began to weep.

"Sienna! You're alive!" Katarina cheered, trying to give her a hug; she didn't seem to care that, in the process, she was smearing herself with vomit.

"Katarina, give her space," Miridiana chided her. "Let her breathe."

Turning to her mother with shining eyes filled with admiration, Katarina asked, "What did you do? How did you save her?"

"It's called the kiss of life," said Miridiana. "Knowing you and Sienna as I do, I thought you might need it someday. Pycelle showed me how it's done."

"That was wonderful," Katarina praised her. "You're wonderful. I'm so lucky to have you!"

"Yes, dear," said Miridiana, distractedly.

'What about me?' Jeord wanted to ask. But he knew that he'd wasted his chance again: Sienna wouldn't have nearly drowned if he hadn't come so close to hitting her with one of his fire blasts, forcing Katarina to push her into the pond or let her be burned to a crisp. It was his fault that she'd come so close to death.

"How come you're allowed to kiss Sienna and I'm not?" asked Katarina, with a playful smirk.

Miridiana sighed. "The 'kiss of life' is just a name. Sometimes it's called mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It's not the same as an actual kiss."

"I was only joking, mama," said Katarina, sounding apologetic.

"Yes, well, there is a time and a place for such behavior and this is not it," Miridiana replied. "Now, we'd better get Sienna inside and into a warm bath. We wouldn't want her to catch her death, would we?"

"I'm s-sorry to be such a burden," said Sienna, wretchedly.

"Nonsense," said Katarina, kissing her on the nose. "I need you just as much as you need me – or anyone."

At that, her mother gave an exasperated groan, but didn't otherwise rebuke her.

The two of them helped Sienna totter back into the manor house. Jeord trailed after them, feeling utterly superfluous.

'What am I supposed to do now?' he wondered.

Author's Notes:
I had intended to say that, "Of all the characters in this fic, Jeord is the one I most identify with. Probably because I suspect that I'm a bit of an asshole, spoiled and selfish." However, considering the way he comports himself in this chapter, I can only hope that I'm not like him.

Originally, I wasn't sure if I was going to include Nicol and Sophia in this fic. I didn't think it had room for them. But then I started writing this chapter and everything seemed to come together. I like that Jeord has a 'friend' to talk to. And Sophia is just adorable.

Next chapter will be… uh, it'll probably take a while.