King Viserys III Targaryen

Viserys stared at the savages arrayed before him, they had laughed at him, belittled him and insulted him. Not for the first time he wondered why the hell he had agreed to marry off his sister, the only other member of the Blood of the Dragon alive, to these savages. Then he remembered why, his throne, his birth right, the very thing he'd been waiting for his entire life. But of course, that had been a year ago, Daenerys was not with child, and the savage who was her husband did not seem as if he would do anything. Viserys had had enough, he demanded recognition and so he'd gone for his sister, he was never going to harm her though, he was simply going to scare her, and as it had been planned it worked. The beast came for him, knocked him down. But instead of killing him, Viserys had goaded him into a challenge.

The savage would not fight him, himself, instead one of his bloodriders would fight him. Viserys hid a grin. He had hoped for that, whilst he had no doubt that the bloodriders were good fighters, they were not as good as him. After all, he had spent time fighting in the Disputed Lands when his sister had lived with the Magister and with the Sand Snakes, he'd done his bit to earn a reputation and now it would pay off. These fools all saw him as some sort of madman, he knew that, he had played that up. Perhaps he was mad, but what did it matter, he would achieve what needed to be achieved and he would ensure that it was done the right way. The savages grunted around him, and one of the members of the Khal's bloodriders appeared before him.

Viserys gripped his sword, he'd been given his by Mopatis, it was the sword that belonged to his ancestor, Queen Visenya, he would shed savage blood and that of the usurper as well when the time came. They circled one another, Viserys and the bloodrider, not wanting to make the first move, Viserys hung back, as he had been taught by the Red Snake, he waited and waited, then as he had suspected the savage lunged. Viserys blocked the blow, hearing the reassuring sound of metal on metal, the savage pushed into him, using his weight to try and upset the balance. Viserys refused to budge. He remained where he was, sword locked against the arakh, then he leaned forward and head butted the savage, that earned a grunt from the savage and a whisper of something from the other savages.

The savage backed away, reeling from what had hit him. Viserys waited, he had watched the Dothraki, had seen how they handled their foes, he knew they would not play the long game. He trailed the sand, the dust cooling around his feet. He glanced to the side, Daenerys was watching with something akin to horror on her face. Her brute of a husband was watching indifferently. The savage came, roaring as he did so, Viserys turned, blocked his swing, parried another blow, then thrust his sword forward, nicking the man's skin, blood pooled down to the ground. It was a start, Viserys knew that he would need to kill this savage for the other savages to respect him. He also knew that if he remained as he were, they would likely kill him, for their belief that he had lied to them. He needed to play up the role of idiot. He moved forward then, going against his instincts, swung and swung, the Dothraki savage got the advantage, and knocked Viserys aside, knocked him to the ground and drew blood.

Viserys laughed internally as he saw the Dothraki howl with laughter. They were so foolish, the savage had backed away to gloat, to no doubt sample one of the naked women who were salivating at the thought of seeing him die. Viserys got up, allowed himself to be knocked down once, twice, then a third time. He was bleeding, but so was the savage, he'd done his bit, he'd not gone down quite as easily as they might have thought. He was a Targaryen after all, and he would not be knocked down or defeated by a savage cur. Once he was satisfied that he had shed enough blood, he stopped fooling around and increased the tempo of his attacks.

The thing about the Dothraki, was that they were great fighters on horseback, but they had no idea how to fight on foot. The savage's movements were slow, and he was clearly struggling with the wounds he'd been dealt. Viserys found it easy enough to slip passed his weak swings, to cut and slice, to instruct wounds onto his skin. The savage seemed increasingly despondent, his long braid got in the way as well, and Viserys used that to his advantage. He cut and chopped, and hacked his way through the savage. He celebrated each and every time he drew blood, and when he backed away, the savage was a bleeding wreck. Viserys looked at his sister, she seemed happy, a slight smile playing at her lips, and then there was her husband, who remained expressionless, as if he were observing a play.

The savage came at him and Viserys knew he had to end this. The man was swinging his arakh as if it were a weight, Viserys cut his hand off, with three clean swings. The savage growled and threw himself at Viserys. Dark Sister clattered to the ground near them, as they wrestled. The savage threw punches, and Viserys took a few, before he got tired, he had been punched too many times before. He threw the savage off, grabbed Dark Sister and cut off the savage's other hand, before grabbing him by his hair and dragging him before the Khal. The Khal watched expressionless, as Viserys slit the bloodrider's throat, and dropped him. Another savage came and Viserys killed him as well, after that second one, the Khal got up and said in broken Westerosi. "King you shall be." Viserys nodded and turned, his sword dripping blood on the sand.

Queen Cersei Baratheon

Cersei enjoyed the breeze as it flowed through the air, she and her husband were out on the balcony of the Red Keep, watching the sun, and the citizens of their capital. It had been fifteen years since she had married her husband, and in that time she had grown to truly care for him, and his mission. She had found a greater purpose than she ever would have as Rhaegar Targaryen's wife, and though her father and she had not spoken in years, she felt happier now, than she had done when he had been writing to her almost every day. Their children were growing up as well, Jon was tall, strong, handsome and smart, just like his father, Myrcella was beautiful and cunning, and Tommen was kind and sweet, as was Joanna. As for Joffrey, well that was one child she had no idea how to handle. Perhaps she should send him off to the Faith.

Her husband interrupted her thoughts, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said. "Myrcella asked me a question today, and I had no idea how to answer it."

Cersei laughed. "Isn't that a common occurrence for you, with our daughters?" It seemed that the great Robert Baratheon, he who had had affairs with many women when they were young, he who had defeated all who had opposed him on the battlefield and in the council chamber, could not give his daughters a straight answer when it came to matters of the heart.

Robert laughed. "I'm being serious here. She asked me about her betrothal and the Stark boy." Cersei straightened then, she knew her daughter had been writing to the heir to Winterfell for about a year and a half now, but she did not know what they wrote to one another about. "She wanted to know whether she was going to fulfil the pact that I made with Rickard Stark."

Cersei sighed. "And what did you say?" She was not sure how she felt about this idea of betrothing their daughter to the Stark boy. The Starks had never been the best suited to southern politics, and of course the north was a place filled with savages at the best of times.

"I told her that she is currently too young to be considering such things. And that when the time came for it to be decided, I would inform her in advance. She seemed happy with that answer at least. So long as it isn't Lancel Lannister, I think she doesn't care." Robert replied.

Cersei laughed. "Of course, though I think Lancel might try and go for a position in the Faith, you know, since uncle Kevan has spent more of his time focusing on Willem and Martyn."

"Does your uncle truly not believe that Lancel would do well as Lord of Castamere once he himself is gone?" Robert asked.

Cersei shrugged. "I do not think it is Kevan making the decisions here, but my father. Father seems to believe that Lancel has spent too much time outside of the Westerlands, outside of the Rock and therefore will not follow the same agenda that he would want a lord of such a powerful estate to."

"So, essentially, Tywin does not think that he will be able to control Lancel and therefore does not want him sitting in Castamere, even though it is his right, and the fact that I can decide to give Lancel the castle now if I wanted to." Robert responded.

"Essentially, yes. My father it seems has grown ever more suspicious of what it is that we are trying to achieve, his letters to Jaime have grown ever more terse, he continually warns Jaime that what we are doing is threatening his plans." Cersei said, some of the indignation she felt creeping in. How dare her father write to her brother about these things, things she had invited him to be a part of but for some reason, his pride had prevented him from agreeing.

Robert took her hand. "I know that your father's words hurt, Cersei, but you cannot let him get inside your head. You know that is what he does, he tries to niggle in, but he must remember that his time in the sun has ended. Indeed, I am of half a mind to finally answer the question your brother put to me a few years ago."

Cersei turned and looked at him. "You're not going to give Tyrion the Rock are you?" the mere thought of her mother's killer sitting in the Rock was too much for her.

"Oh heavens no, I know from Crakehall and Banefort and others that they'd never follow a dwarf. No, I'm tempted to simply name Tommen as Lord of the Rock and give him all the feudal dues that that entitles him to. I will defeat your father in a war if it comes to it. Of course, that is only if you wish it." Robert responded.

"No, not yet, we might need Father." Cersei replied, thinking of the struggles in Braavos and the election of the Sealord.

Her husband nodded in agreement then said. "I think that we will need to announce who our son is to marry soon enough. Renly has been pestering me about it for weeks, as surprisingly has Stannis. I think Stannis wants Sansa Stark as Jon's betrothed, and whilst that would bring Ned closer to the fold, it would be a waste of a marriage, especially if Myrcella heads north. The Tyrells would be good, and would keep the Florents in line, but then there is Arianne Martell and the dowry she would bring."

Cersei considered the options presented, she did not like the thought of her daughter going all the way to Winterfell, nor did she like the thought of a Tyrell being Queen, she had met Margaery Tyrell, the girl was far too clever for her own good. And of course, Robert was not on speaking terms with Mace Tyrell either. "I think bringing the Stark girl south makes the most sense, and it ensures Stark will have to owe you for the rest of his time here. And the dowry could be considerable also."

Robert was thinking this over, she could see that in the way his mouth was parted. Eventually he sighed. "I suppose you are right, I shall write to Ned and see what he has to say."