Tales of Westros: The Hound and the Fox
Season 1, chapter 4.
Voices echoed through the castle walls. Laughter and chatter. People milled about, going from their day to day activities. The clink of chain mail and armor as the King's Guard passed. The occasional laughter or a giggling Lady. The toll of some far away bell. In the halls leading to the throne room, an odd pair of women strode towards room beyond.
Among the clicking heels were those belonging to Cersei, she saw the taller one and didn't try to hide her distaste. Across from her, ignoring her entirely, was Flowers and Sansa. The bastard had kept the little bird tucked tightly under her wing, and Cersei hated it.
In the weeks the Florent bastard had come she and Ned had secretly arranged to keep Sansa out of the wrong hands. They both agreed on who that was to be, unspoken. The Queen had her suspicions but no talking to her husband changed anything. Flowers was there to say, this time her visit was of an undetermined length. With Ned joining the Small Council and her back from such a long stay in Dorne, Robert decided that she was better use to him in King's Landing. Florentine was surprised but took the arrangement with grace, the Lannister did not.
She watched the two now, the tall thin brunette with silvery tipped hair, and the red headed Stark child. As they passed, the lioness wondered what they were talking about. They were holed up in Flower's apartments too often for spies to be entirely effective. What they spoke about was just as important to Cersei as it was that they spent so much time together.
They passed and the queen had to keep moving. She had no small talk to offer to the bastard that wouldn't set her temper aflame. It was bad enough that Fox was here and taking away her future daughter-in-law. She knew there were others who shared her contempt for the bastard, not everyone trusted her like the king did.
Florentine held her breath until the blonde woman passed. She had no desire to tempt the lioness today and was sorry they shared the same walk way that day. She let out a sigh of release and let her shoulders droop. She looked to Sansa and saw how cheery the girl was, an improvement since her arrival.
The other one, Arya, was often gone. She knew how mischievous children are at that age and so was not bothered by her absence. Besides, Sansa was the one whose life was at stake, not the younger sister. Not that Florentine didn't like her, she was a person to her own. Florentine saw more of herself in that one than Sana.
She smiled. "What does your Septa have in store for you today I wonder?"
Sansa laughed, "You always speak in questions."
She smiled.
The girl's outlook turned dismal. "She's going to talk about my flower again, I know it. Her and the queen keep preparing me for when I marry Joffery."
"Well it is a part of being engaged o the crown prince of Westros. . ." Florentine raised a skeptical eyebrow as she listened to her own words. She hated how involved this child was. A CHILD! Outwardly you could see no turmoil, only a smile. "it will make sense when you're grow my dear. You're still young. Simply listen to twhat they say and take it in. Remember it."
The girl nodded. "It's all they talk about. Its gets dull."
Florentine laughed loudly, her noise echoing from the walls. Behind them the Oldflower Brothers followed, watching their mistress carefully. The girls were spread throughout the castle, making friends and listening for what they thought would be useful to her. Ryden and her Dornishman were elsewhere, Arriatny was in her rooms, it got too much for her to wander around the palace.
The elder kicked the hem of her skirts as they walked along. She loathed to leave the youngling but knew she could not stay. She had to give her over to the ways of the world. They stopped before the doors and Sansa obviously didn't want to continue on alone. She stopped and stood there, hesitating, Florentine watched her closely, dreading what was to come next.
"I don't want to," she whispered.
Flowers hoped she wouldn't say it. "Sansa," her voice was low and she wanted to take her away.
She hugged her and pressed her close. In that embrace the child held her back, but Florentine was washed over by a feeling she knew would bring her death. She looked down and stroked the pretty red hair, it was so soft. . .so sweet. Those blue eyes were darling and that skin was-
"I know what it's like to grow up without a mother," she said. She hadn't actually told anyone about her feelings towards her mother. "You can always tell me anything Sansa my dearest," she told her, fingers tilting her face upwards.
They smiled.
"Now go speak of life with your Septa." Florentine laughed as she pushed the child towards the doors of the throne room. "And Sansa!"
The girl turned expectantly.
"Don't forget to give them sons," she meant it as a joke and winked. "They will never forgive you otherwise." The bastard left, unaware that her words had had an impact on the younger one.
They parted ways and Florentine went back to her waiting shields, she passed them with her chin held high, her pale violet eyes looking straight ahead. On the way back her men cast their stares to her and bore their looks into her skull. She felt it and pretended not to notice. She merely scoffed and raised an eyebrow.
"What do you two want?" She asked sarcastically. "I can practically hear you thinking."
Her connection to the Oldflowers ran deeper than people knew. The Oldflower name was derived from the bastard surname of the South, it had been nearly protocol for them to join. Not many bastards were born in Highgarden these days, when one of such value was born their house presented two of their rising warriors as her sworn shields. The house was proud and strong, they had been more than proud that such a bastard now commanded two Olderflower men.
Duncan spoke, "You show too much interest in the Starks." His posture remained straight, even as he spoke. His walnut brown eyes were clever.
His brother, "For your own good. You've become too attached to the girl."
"She's all alone here for fuck's sake." She argued, memories of her own lonely life came to play.
"She's a noble."
"Engaged to be married to Joffery Baratheon."
"And none of your concern."
"Shut up you two." She glared at them both, her gaze darting between them. Sometimes, not even she could tell them apart.
"You need to hear this," Duncan was the harder one on her.
Clement brought reason, "Remember whom you are loyal to first and foremost. Not just who you become friends with."
"Must you bring such dull and sad news?" She whined. Her ears straining in double time for words among the surrounding crowd. She was never resting in her hunt for knowledge, even the babble of the crowd had its usage. "I already know I have no friends, I'm not sorry for the inconvenience. It's the truth."
"Don't be so childish," Clement scolded. "You're past your twenty first year, you know friends are an illusion. There are only allies and accomplices here."
She frowned in annoyance. "You make me glum."
"The truth is such. But be happy!"
"Why?"
"You have the two Oldflowers to help you along."
She burst into loud, obnoxious, laughter. Her obvious mocking fit was beyond belief. Her feet stopped and she grabbed her sides in a show amongst the people. This was her return jest to them for getting on her temper. She was going to make a show out of them. After all, her reputation was already manic, outbursts like these were common, but not enjoyed.
"As if that is going to make my friendless experience more tolerable." She crossed her arms and gave them a lively smirk. "With you two as my shields I am never for a dull moment, even if its dull news. You two are such a pain in m'arse," some of the ladies present were shocked by her language. "I've dragged you all over Westros and Dorne, even across the narrow seas for ten years. And now here we are, back in King's Landing, and all I've got is you two. You make me laugh!"
Some of the men snickered at her show of foolery.
"Tournament." The word leapt out to her.
"You make me. . ." she drifted.
"The Mountain."
Her body locked in place. Her face drained of color and her jaw fell. She said not a word more and instead began swaying on her feet. The moment her face went ashen the brothers were tense and shocked. Duncan leapt forward and caught her in his arms while Clement drew his sword and started barking orders to clear a path. People with ties to Lannister moved slow.
Duncan needed to get her outside, but it seemed like the crowd was only talking in anxious whispers about her faint and show. No one was moving aside, too caught up in the excitement of her dramatic spell.
"Move!" Clement barked.
"What's going on here?" A King's Guard came forward, with one behind him.
"She needs air. There's too many people here, she can't breath," Duncan tried explaining.
"She fainted, please move for us!" Clement's voice was loud and persistent.
"This is the Bastard you mean?" This guard meant trouble and it only made a thicker crowd.
"She needs air now!" The one holding her shook from the strain of her dead weight.
The older guard pointed to him. "Sure you can hold her a moment longer. Now if you'd please move aside," he lazily waved his hand toward some people and ushered them away from the doors and to a place further inside. "We'll get her to the Sept and have her taken care of."
"No!" Clement sniped.
The guards were beginning to grow angry. "Get moving or there'll be trouble."
"There will be no trouble. Move your fucking ass and clear a bloody path."
Whoever spoke, the brothers couldn't see. But the people knew who it was and obeyed. A path immediately became apparent to an outside courtyard and the brothers wasted no time in moving. The guards hung back and glared at the man who melted from the crowd to approach them. He smirked with one side of his twisted face as he towered over them. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He walked passed them and through the opened path of people.
Clement stood with his back to his brother and faced the crowd, he saw who followed them and scowled. His hand tightened on his sword, but otherwise remained slack. Behind him, Duncan laid her one a stone bench and was moving the hair from her face. Faint color had returned to her lips but the rest of her skin was still pale. He saw a thick stemmed flower next to his feet, it smelled sharp and strong. He plucked it and shoved it to her nose. She inhaled and slowly drifted back to him.
"Wh..what hap. Where we?"
"Its' alright Floren," he called her pet name. "Wake up slowly and be gentle. You had a shock."
It came back to her in a flash. Her eyes shot open. "Oh Gods," she whispered. Her pale violet gaze went to him, her words came out in a hurried tumble. "He's here Duncan. He's here and he knows I am. He's going to get me this time, I know it."
He looked concerned. And leaned in, something wasn't right. She was off in the head. Clement glared at the Hound as he stopped in front of them. His grey eyes locked with the Olderflower brother.
"She sounds delirious." He said gruffly. "You should get her to her rooms, I'm sure she has enough bloody wine up there to quench the kingdom's thirst."
Clement knew it was true, she was a drunkard. But he refused to let this Lannister servant say so. He stepped forward to attack the man, but it was Duncan who intervened.
"Clement." He said. "The Hound is right."
The brother stopped. He looked back and saw Duncan holding their Flowers. He looked back to the Hound and glared at him with everything he could. The second brother rushed past and Clement hung back for only a moment longer.
"You." He sheathed his sword and leaned in, slightly up, nose to nose with the burned man. "Don't ever help us again. We don't need it."
The Hound laughed low and gruffly, "You're too fucking sensitive." His eyes trailed after her skirts over Duncan's arms.
Clement saw. "Don't ever look at her again. She's beyond your class of men."
The Hound looked back at him, "You need all the allies you can get. Especially when they know so fucking much."
The Oldflower man didn't spare another word as he darted after his twin. The grey eyes watched them as they had seen them come. As the crowd melted back into their normal drone he melted with them. He had taken a moment while Joffery was at lessons to track the Fox and watch her. It was his only reprieve from the day's bitterness. It made it even brighter that Sansa was with her, the two were meant to be together in this place.
"That was quite the show wasn't it?" Came a smooth beside him.
Sandor looked to his right and saw none other than Lord Baelish. He never cared for him much, even if he played the game well. Hound didn't respond.
"The Flowers woman. You saw, I watched you assist them. It's intriguing after what your brother did to her in Caterly Rock those six years ago." He looked at Sandor and read his chance of face. "You didn't hear? My, they kept it secret didn't they?"
Silence.
"He molested her. Scared her something awful and nearly raped her. Some say it was under Lord Tywin's orders, rumors do fly. I should be going now. Hound." He didn't seem to care there was never a reply.
As smoothly as he appeared, he was gone. The Hound could only keep walking. He knew that if he stopped he would murder the nearest person and then murder his brother.
The doors to her chambers opened and Duncan hurried in. Arrianty jolted from her sleep in her chair and calmly watched him enter. She saw an unconscious Florentine in his arms and went to get her salts. He laid her on the bed while his brother stood behind and anxiously watched. When their elder came to their side she first felt her forehead.
"She's so cold," she whispered. "What happened?" Her voice was sharp with the command to know.
"We don't know."
"We were walking and she suddenly went deathly white."
"It was awful. She heard something and then this."
They looked at her and saw her sweating in her sleep. The color was returning now and Arriatny decided that her salts weren't needed after all.
"Let the child sleep," she said. "She's tired. We all are."
Duncan sighed and stepped back. Clement stood by the bed.
"Did you hear what she did?" The old woman asked.
They shook their heads simultaneously.
"I heard nothing," Clement told her.
It was Duncan who focused on his memory. "She said he was here. That he was here and he was going to get her. She was so terrified of whoever it was."
Arriatny closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Have you two heard that a tournament is in order for Lord Stark?"
"Yes."
"We have."
She sighed, "Among the contenders is the Mountain that Rides."
Both their faces flashed fierce young anger, signs of men in their primes. They didn't move, action was not garnered, instead they reserved their strength. But their emotions were clear in the way their eyes darkened, the way the angry creases deepened in their faces, how they both stiffened.
"You know how she hears more than she aught," her foster mother went on. "She more than likely heard his name, and the shock of him being near her again sent her into a spell of fear." Her eyes were old and pale now, as they gazed at her ward she knew she could no longer protect her as she once had. "She is the Fox, when a Mountain rides she must beware. It will chase her until her dying day and she will tire. When she tires the Hound will take her."
"That is the sad Fox and Hound tale," Clement whined. Ever the impulsive one, he took enjoyment in old tales. "Everyone knows how the Hound chased her and she ran into the mountain. The mountain was where the king and queen lived and the mountain obeyed them. He gave chase after the fox for weeks! Days and nights. . ."
"And the hound killed the fox on the mountain." Duncan finished.
"That wasn't the end just yet."
"I've heard enough."
They were silent.
"You don't believe in old tales Duncan. Not you."
"No, but I believe in prophecy."
"That's my part of our brotherhood. I'm the younger one."
Duncan was about to reply when a soft knock came from the door. It came persistently and the older brother stood. He went to the door and wrenched it open. There stood Ser Littlefinger, Duncan never trusted him. He knew that this particular Ser cared extremely little for his mistress.
"Yes?" He asked gruffly.
Baelish smiled. "I heard the commotion and came to see if our Council member is feeling well. After all, there is a meeting tonight, faint or not faint and she is requested."
"You really came to see if she will be there," he wasted to lies.
"If you want to put it that way," Baelish grinned at him, knowing the Bastard's entourage were so protective and secretive. "I inquired about her health first if I recall."
Duncan ground his teeth. "She's had a shock. I don't know when she will wake. If she is unable to attend, Measter Ryden will act in her stead. He knows all she does."
The other man, the shorter man, nodded. "May I ask why she had a spell in the hall?"
"Is that all you needed Ser Littlefinger?" He glared coldly at him.
"I was hoping to share the news buzzing most through the castle. The Mountain has arrived, with him here the tourney will begin, sure you've heard." He nodded nonchalantly at the door frame. "Just another drain on the royal expenses really, something you wouldn't understand." He grinned at his jab.
The door was closing.
"The Mountain has already spoken her name."
The door stopped.
He went on."He knows she is here." The news sank in for a moment. "That is all."
Duncan watched him walk away with silent rage. The door shut and he turned back. He stormed back to the chairs where his brother and elder waited. He paced for a moment, angrily in front of them.
"Baelish. . .He was so kind to inform us of the Mountain's arrival. As well as see about her place at the Council."
"There was a meeting then tonight?" the younger brother asked.
A nod.
"Well it doesn't look as if she'll be up to it," Clement joked.
Suddenly he broke, Duncan's passion came forward.
"It's not fair Arrianty. She had no choice. Sansa has no choice. They never had a fucking choice to be a part of all these politics. We did, we could have left her but we didn't. She never had a fighting chance did she?"
She knew his anger. Behind her back, her people voiced concern for her life. She was in danger no matter what she did.
"If you're afraid the Mountain will come for her, don't." The old woman was stern and her voice commanding. "With King Robert on the throne no one will harm her. He would send armies to save her if he had to. The Mountain will obey his king, more so the Lannisters, but that's what we know." She paused before going on. "What happened at Casterly Rock-"
"Won't happen again," Duncan said. His tone final. "Keaton, you or I will be by her side at all times. No exceptions."
Clement looked baffled. "But of course brother," he didn't know what else to say to appease the man. He stood and began walking away. "I will stand outside. You stay here and guard the terrace."
Duncan stood, happy with something to do. Arriatny stood and he turned to face her. Her bright blue eyes, pale, stared back with an old determination he knew was stronger than his own. She was from a harder time, he doubted he would ever know suffering and sacrifice like this woman did, her and Ryden, what they went through with the baby and under the Mad King.
"Winter is indeed coming Duncan. Flowers whiter and die in the Winter."
"Some don't." They weren't just speaking of the appending winter and how flowers would be affected
"This will be a long, cold winter child." Her words were a warning.
"But autumn must come first. Somehow, I don't think I'll fare very well in the fall. You were wrong, flowers avoid winter if they can." He looked at her before turning to go. His eyes confused with dreams and visions. Feelings he knew he had to believe in. "Flowers die in the fall."
He left. His sword scabbard clinking against his armor. Thoughts of his ward and of his future weighed down on him. he had doubts he would live through this stay at King's Landing. He ad a feling that he owuld never marry the woman he loved. All because he chose to serve a bastard. He chuckled and nodded o himself.
"It was a choice well made."
It was late at night when Maester Ryden returned from Council, and he didn't return alone. With him was Ned Stark. It was a surprise to those inside the dim chambers when the handsome Northerner came through the entrance. Florentine was sitting up in bed, her robe tight about her shoulders. Her girls were sitting near the open terrace doors, letting in the warm summer sea breeze. Her rooms had a view of the Black Water, she liked it.
When he came to her bedside, where everyone was scattered and milling about, they all perked up. Florentine looked truly surprised and taken aback. She went to fuss about her hair and mumbled excuses as her people greeted him. He said his helloes and was offered a chair. They all sat and she even chose to be seated with them.
They made a fuss over her. She waved them off in an irritated fashion, it was amusing to watch. Or so Ned thought as he watched them. He was vaguely reminded of his own family. She plopped down into a chair close to his and face him. Besides looking a little bedraggled and tired around the eyes, she looked otherwise lovely. He smiled.
"I do apologize for my ill manner of dress," she said once again. After taking a moment to realize that she was in the presence of a practical man, she turned her mind around and smiled warmly. "King's Landing protocol is a tad tiresome wouldn't you say?"
He nodded. "Yes, since I see no need for apologies. I came to see how you were faring. Well I take it?"
She nodded once. "Yes, thank you. Not that I expected anyone to, but you're one the first to inquire about it."
"That's not true," Arrianty spoke up. "A Ser Baelish came to see you shortly after they brought you up."
This was news, "Oh he did?" She asked. "And what did he have to say?" Her eyes darted to the book in Ned's hands, an old tome of sorts. She couldn't see the title.
"Only to ask if you would make it to the meeting." Clement said.
"And to remind us of the tournament," Duncan added, his voice flat and hard.
"The tournament! No more reminders of it, I beg you," Ned's voice was a joke and serious at the same time.
Florentine turned in instantly. "And why?"
"If you had been awake for the meeting you would know," Ryden said in an upbeat tone. His face turned serious after a sigh. "But this is not fun and games. We were informed that this tourney is only adding to a growing expanse of debt."
She looked shocked. "Our dear King Robert has put us in debt? I had no inkling." This was only partly true. She didn't know the extent and if only small tourney could make people concerned. . she dreaded to imagine the price.
"I don't think anyone did," Ned said.
Intense violet eyes swept over him, studying every detail about this man. She took it all into account. All she had learned over the past few weeks was enough for her to see him. She knew he needed her just as much as she needed him. His protection for her knowledge of the game. She would make him an offer to join forces, and she knew he would accept. The idea was spontaneous, she never followed spontaneous decisions.
She looked down at the hands clasped in her lap. "Shields you can retire to your night posts. Arriatny, take the girls to their chambers please. Siggy!" that one stopped. She was the oldest of the younger bunch. "Wine please."
They knew better than to question her in times like these. The girls went off, Ryden left with the Shields, Duncan cast her an angry glare. She didn't care, at the moment she wanted to speak to Ned alone, she was only allowing Siggy to stay. She knew the girl wouldn't speak.
As soon as they were gone and the wine was being poured, she started.
"Ned, you know a lot of how King's Landing has been run these past years. It's a shame you have to see that your friend, the king, isn't such as an involved leader as we would hope him to be." She drank.
Ned drank. He nodded. "Did you know? All this time, just how much we are in debt to the iron Bank?"
"I knew we were in debt," she looked down nervously, "Just not how much."
"Ryden can tell you," he said dismissively. "I've heard it enough."
Siggy stood to the side, awaiting for orders. Florentine nodded for her to sit and pay attention. She did so and watched.
"He will. I've been playing this infamous game of thrones my whole life. The past seven years I've been doing it for my own gain as well as Robert's." She tipped her cup to his. "My knowledge and deeds are his. At least between Westros and Dorne there is some rest. I manage to keep them settled enough. Dorne is actually full of very agreeable and kind people."
"You speak of the Dornish so fondly?"
"Yes!" She grinned. "Like a second family to me. I've spent much time over the years there. The Martells are a gracious house."
"Aren't they opposed to the Tyrells, and your house is bannermen for them?"
A laugh then. "A sworn house yes. But In Dorne, my status of bastard is what saved my skin. They don't hate us there like they do here. Because of that, they took a liking to me and accepted me. Oberyn is a particularly close friend of mine, it is because of his understanding that I can convince him to do many things."
"Understanding?"
"That first and foremost, I am subject to King Robert of Westros. As much as I love Dorne and its people, I am Westrosi. They know this and yet peace remains. I am privy to information of their courts no other Ambassador from Westros has ever been, you wonder why?" He nodded. "I am a bastard. I gain many secrets this way you see. Being a bastard gained me close to Robert, it gained me intimacy with Dorne, it freed me from the pressures of marriage at a young age; being a bastard I am not expected to marry."
She got on her knees and put her finger tips on his knees.
"I am willing to share many of this knowledge, my secrets, with you Ned Stark of the North. I pledge loyalty and will put my-"
He tried to stop her, "No! You shouldn't. Flowers, a pledge of allegiance is serious. You are sworn to the Tyrells, they are your overloads. To defect will bring punishment."
She shook her head. "Ned, I was only seven when I fled Westros. The rebellion was everywhere and we fled across the Narrow Seas. Ten years later I came back and for the past seven years I have been learning every trick in the game. I know much more than you and in truth we need each other." Her startling eyes met his.
Stark could see Targaryen and he had heard the rumors. He didn't choose to believe them. The rumors of her having Dayne-a house from Dorne- blood, now that he could believe. It was one of the few things that made sense in this place. A simple, trivial thing as a bastard's lineage, and it didn't even concern him.
"You see, I'm in fear for my life. There are more powerful people than usual, worse people. They're out to kill me and I know for certain it is true. In order for your protection I will govern Sansa and share with you what I learn." Her eyes swept down cast. She saw the title, Lineage and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. She committed it to memory but thought little of it.
Ned was silent. Siggy was quiet. She knew this was important and was confused. Florentine was risking a lot by swearing to the Starks. Her house was already sworn to Tyrell, she was born into their service.
"And you're wrong," Floren said. "I am Flowers, I may have Florent blood but I am not of Florent house. I have no house." She smiled, very much like a fox. All sharp teeth and bright eyes.
"Then I take your pledge and bind you to it. Your task is to watch over my daughter. Protect her, keep her safe. Doing everything in your power. Anything."
She looked into his blue eyes and stood. He stood with her. He was tall, not more than Sandor though. She blinked and looked over his shoulder. Why would Hound come into her thoughts at a time like this? The woman shook her head and looked back to the Lord.
"I swear it Lord Stark. I, Florentine Flowers Bastard of Brightwater Keep, swear it." Her voice was steady and strong.
He nodded. "I will leave you to rest now. I could do with some now."
She smiled tiredly. "I bid you good night Lord Stark." As he swept past she turned slightly, and spoke over her shoulder. "Also, give my regards to Lady Stark. If she has not left."
He had turned half away from her. He turned around at the middle to face her. His expression asked his question; how did you know? Of course no one had made an announcement to the public of her arrival. A Lady was always announced. Not this time, he hadn't told anyone how she was caught up in a brothel Petyr Baelish owned and ran. Disgusting.
"I shall, when I see her again." He avoided further conversation and made his stately way from her chambers.
Once the door closed, she sighed and Siggy went to her. She took her mistress's arm and the elder groaned in irritation.
"I feel old," she complained. "Needing assistance to walk, posh!" She side glanced at the smiling girl. She was a good seventeen, eighteen years of age. Nearly ready to be married. A little late in the game but she was now a refined young woman, instead of a fresh scented girl. She would be a good Lady, Floren though silently.
"And that is the game as you don't know it yet," she said dramatically. "You have to make strange propositions once in a while to get where you want and what you want my dear. Never forget that."
"I won't Lady Flowers," she replied dutifully.
"I'm no Lady, why do you insist on calling me so?" She was curious.
"You are our house. We are a house of many and you are the house."
Still, Siggy hesitated when she went to speak again. Florentine wasn't paying attention this time, tired and wanting to get back to her bed. Her maiden let go of her arm as she sat down.
"Duncan warned me to watch you. He and Clement, and Ryden, think you get too involved with the Starks. They wanted me to tell you to remember who you serve."
She chuckled and gave her a sly look. "What did Duncan say exactly?"
"To remember where your loyalties lay."
"So thoughtful he is."
"My Lady, you did think this through?
"I did."
The girl nodded and let her leader do as she chose. Florentine nodded to her.
"Go then. Go sleep and rest, it's been a long week. The tourney will be here soon and we need to stay on our toes." She laid back down to sleep herself.
Siggy got up and stood there. She curtsied and then clasped her hands together. Her eyes darted away from Flowers, that made her interested.
"Yes? Something else Siggy?" She inquired.
"I was there tonight after the meeting. I heard Ned give more soldiers to Slynt's command, funding is so terrible they need to find ways to strengthen the guard." She nodded, her blue eyes sparkling in the fire light.
"Is that all?" She asked expectantly.
"I heard them speak of Arryn. I was able to talk it out of a servant of Pycell after he and Lord Stark spoke alone. . .His last words." Florentine was waiting. "His last words were "the seed is strong"."
Her bright eyes turned thoughtful. "How very interesting. And it was Helen who followed Ned to the Blacksmith today?"
"Yes. Did she speak to you?"
Her elder nodded. "I just wanted to hear it from you." She stared at the younger one. "Go now!" She laughed. "I have to sleep, you do too. Good night Siggy."
She smiled and nodded good night before leaving. Florentine thought back to Helen's report. She followed Ned most of the time, upon her own orders. Helen was smaller, discreet. While she looked like her Highgarden counterparts, she could blend into a crowd easily.
"A boy," Floren repeated to herself. "Ned saw a boy, with black hair. And the seed is strong."
She closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Keaton was standing far to the west wing. Farther towards Robert's chambers, he stood at his post and looked out into the cold halls. His blue eyes observed everything around him. The stones in the walls, the curved of the hall, the wear of the floor. The torch light was soft. He heard footsteps and stood still. Someone was coming form that way, a King's Guard. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the wall, the King's Guard were a joke, he always thought so.
He doubted any of them ever took it seriously and with grace.
But the one man he least expected to come his way did. Jamie, Jamie Lannister. He was a handsome with a flawless face. Blond hair, blue eyes, they were alike but not. Jamie seemed to size him up as well, but something in his face was kind. Keaton compared him to the imp, whom he had met and liked. Unlike the old lion and the lioness, these lions had hearts and souls. The other man stopped and the two stood in awkward silence.
"How is she?" It was Jamie who asked first.
"Asleep. She only fainted."
"It made quite a commotion today. They had a brush with the Guard today. If it wasn't for the Hound helping them there would have been trouble."
"Trouble from whom?"
"From my Guards I'm afraid," the Lannister was uncharacteristically honest. "They listen to Cersei just as much as they listen to me. The fat ones do anyway."
They looked at each other.
"Is it true?" Keaton asked. "About this king of yours? Is he there now, whoring? I hear things. . ."
Jamie nodded. "He would never do that to Florentine. For some reason he adores her. I can't tell you why but he speaks of her often and more than he does about his other children."
The Fowler saw a slight twitch hit the corner of his mouth. As if he didn't believe the words he was saying. The Dornishman didn't believe a man who didn't believe himself. He crossed his arms and was silent.
"He looks to her as his own, and nearly every bastard in this capitol is his. The only one in all of King's Landing that wasn't born here and he chooses to care for her. You can imagine how that would make his wife feel."
"I don't think I can," Keaton said honestly. "In Dorne, we don't hate bastards."
He bowed his head in respect when Jamie didn't say anything back and turned around. His footsteps faded into the night as he left behind the Kingslayer. That one may have had a different heart from the other lions, but he still wasn't a friend. This one still didn't understand, Keaton didn't hate the child when she had no say in how she was born. She was tossed into the game like so many before her, and he was going to help her through it.
The day had come. The Tourney of the King's Hand. She had her off-white and flower speckled gown with a darker blue under dress. She soothed the skirt below her high waist and stepped forward. Her handmaidens excitedly ran off to have fun, something she encouraged them to do. Arriatny had stayed behind with Measter Ryden. Keaton was the only one with her that day as she had deliberately instructed the Oldflower brothers to watch the elders. She knew Duncan would pressure her the entire time.
She was well aware that the Mountain was there. She heard it first and his reaction was strong. She knew the only way to keep him calm was to leave him back at the Keep. He didn't like that. But somehow the others had persuaded him to allow it, she thinks Siggy had a hand in it. In truth, her reason for wanting to come so bad were secret. She had her suspicions about her eldest handmaiden. She might be too good a pupil. . .
Florentine had come to see one person she knew would be there. She hadn't said a word about him to anyone, not even Siggy, but she had heard he would be there. Well, more that his ward would be there, but where the prince went He was to follow. Sansa ran ahead, her Septa following her, Florentine had come with the girl and they were looking for the other sister and Ned along the way.
"Have fun!" She called. The girl ran not too far ahead. "Go with her Keaton. Let her wander and watch her."
"And you?" He asked. She was his ward first of all, but if she was giving him an order he would.
"I'll keep you in calling distance," she grinned.
He smile and nodded, running off to catch up with the girl. He enjoyed children's company. This Stark was a sweet creature, he saw why Florentine was so caught with her. In trust of his mistress's judgment, he left her behind to tend to the wolf child. No doubt she would want to find Joffery and win back his affections. She told her new mentor that the prince had been angry with her since being bitten by the wolf.
Flowers shook it from her head and let the girl have her fun. With darker times approaching she would need good memories. She herself was entertained by all the banners and sigils. She glimpsed her fox and flowers among the colors, but made no effort to see them. She would not be welcomed by her mother's people. Theirs was a dwindling house. Shireen, and their distant cousin Sam Tarley, would be the only high born heirs, after which Florent would belong to her.
She heard a rise in commotion by the jousts, a large crowd was gathered and she guessed the royal family must be in their box. She was making her way there when something caught her eye next to a grand red tent; a fierce helm of a snarling hound. She felt an exhilarating tingle rush down her spine as she walked towards it. It was propped against what she came to realize was a Lannister tent. It was small but she guessed it must be extravagant inside, it made her feel foolish when it was the only red tent amongst white ones.
She looked from side to side and was thankful no one was watching as she went to it. Stepping on her toes she crept closer, the craftsmanship was stunning. She glanced back ahead and saw Keaton and Sansa, the Septa was with them. She turned back and peered into the closed tent, a voice reached her.
"Joffery! Take your siblings and go the stands, your father is there."
"Do they have to follow me?"
"Yes, now I won't hear any more fuss about it. You're merely taking them around the corner to the stand. I'm right behind you."
It was Cersei and Joffery. No sooner did the Fox hear all of this than she was diving for the bushes. Joffery himself exited the tent with his siblings in tow, his face was annoyed. As her pale eye watched him, she didn't figure him much for the brotherly type. She felt he merely tolerated them for no other reason than they were his innocent siblings. He lead them away, a minute later the queen followed suit.
Florentine held her breath from her hiding place. When no one else seemed present within, she moved to step out from her spot, only to be yanked backwards by a hand over her mouth. She tried screaming but the sound was muffled, the gauntlet hand was clamped tight. Her kicking and screaming were retained due to her skirts and the small space. She was pulled back in such a way that her front was stretched and she was soon rolled over onto her stomach.
She wasn't used to being accosted whilst watching and was furious and surprised. Whoever this was, they knew where she would be before she did. This was new, a new game with a new anomaly player.
"Stop screaming," a voice growled in her ear. "Or I'll give you a reason to fucking scream.
It was the Hound. She stopped and stayed still, trying to breath under his weight. Her eyes were wild and darting around the enclosed bushes.
Her face was smashed into the grass and her wrists were held down by his. He had settled between her legs and was pressing down hard with his armored hips. Whatever space they were in was very cramped and very hot. His breath stunk of wine, his body was hard and hurt against hers. Her hair was messed and undone.
He inhaled her scent, "Roses," he thought to himself. He spoke, "I knew I'd find you here. At this tent, spying on her again. You're a fucking idiot! Of all the fucking places to go and you wandered here. You're a fool."
"But not a bitch?"
"What?"
"If you were truly angry you'd call me a bitch."
"You're a bastard bitch," he twisted her hair around his hand and yanked.
She hissed and her head went back. He laid on her for a moment longer, only his breath and the people around them made noise. She was careful to measure her breathing so she got air, he was thinking about maddening it was to be in such armor. He groaned and lifted away only to force her on her back, she had no choice but to open her legs to him.
Her eyes caught a soft beam of light and he was shot. Her pale eyes blazed in the sunlight with a fierce streak. He wondered if her blood was of the dragon, or something else entirely. Either way she was worth coveting, at least to this beast. The way she gazed at him made him still for it wasn't with fear or disgust, it was with curiosity.
He snarled at her, "Look away." His order was low. "Never look to me again if you value your life."
"Why?" Her question was a breathless whisper.
"Your eyes are too bloody innocent you sweet cunt," he wanted to tell her. But couldn't. Instead he said, "I'm the only one allowed to touch you from now on. You are nothing but a bastard and no one will take a worthless bastard."
"What are you doing?" She growled. Her eyes scowled at the leaves in her line of sight. His games were irritating and tiresome.
He grinned when she wasn't looking. "You don't speak to me for weeks? I was going to treat you like a woman but now I'm treating you to how you're fucking used to. A whore."
Her eyes widened as he stung her dignity. "How dare you?" she hissed. "I am no whore."
"So the rumors are lies?"
"I said so already!" She whispered and it rose a little louder.
He suddenly grabbed the off shoulder hem of her dress and yanked down. Her cleavage was exposed and her cheeks burned red. She struggled to hide herself but he over powered her, putting a knee on a bunched up length of her bell sleeves. Her hand was hard to move under him, his hand grabbed her and squeezed, pinching her it.
He groaned and frowned. "Go ahead and scream. Everyone will see your bare arse standing in the middle of the road. Your dress will be mine."
"I. Am not. A whore," she growled, her gaze still averted.
"I can see that you fucking tongue wager," his thoughts echoed.
He pinched especially had and she bit her lip to repress a scream. He saw and his hunter instincts overwhelmed him. He wanted to catch her and fuck her. Love on her and care for her. Own her, control her. He wanted her fat with a baby in her so that he could fuck her then too.
Instead he leaned down to her neck and bit down on the skin, not quite breaking the skin but bruising it hard. She squeaked and her felt a moan purr silently in her throat as something euphoric feeling rushed through her. His hand traveled to her ankles, and lifted he skirt, snaking under them and up her leg. His mouth suddenly latched to hers and their tongues entwined almost instantly.
"What am I doing?" she asked in a terrified burst in her head. Her heart pounded hard, her stomach hallow, his saliva was sweet.
He kissed her with a messy, sloppy fever and when he came up for air he seemed to realize where his hand was. He stopped and yanked away from her.
"Not yet," he thought, "not like this."
Her pressed her shoulders down and kissed her again. When he pulled away she nipped at his bottom lip and caught it, giving it a sharp suck before releasing him. He pulled away and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back, he chest arched upwards. One hand still groped her. One of her hands suddenly shifted free and it drifted up to touch his face.
His hand caught her wrist and crushed it. A whole new pain filled her body and yellow stars burst behind her eye lids. Se clenched her fist and teeth.
"Sandor," she whispered his name so sweetly.
"Never touch my face." His tone had changed. It was like glass, tense, sharp.
She shivered when she heard the hidden threat, a real threat.
"A kiss for a departing participant?" She asked, her voice flat and pitched in the wrong places. It made her question expectant of an answer immediately.
He leaned down and gave her one death defying kiss. Hard and hot. She grabbed at the plates of his armor, pulling him closer. Hands went to his neck instead and she dug her nails into his thick skin. His shoulders tensed and she could feel his muscles move. His hard moved away from her skirts. When he pulled away she caught his lips again and pulled a little, she let go and he looked down at her.
"You're no "Lady" to be giving out kisses. Bastard fool," he said in a low voice.
"I didn't exactly give my kiss to a Ser. For you are no knight." Her eyes held a powerful stare of challenge.
Her lashed out and grabbed her jaw. He peered deep, and then let go and rolled to the side into an empty alley between tents. As she furiously began tugging her dress back into place, he sprang up and sauntered away with a casual appearance. He thanked the Gods that his armor hid his true intentions. Now the man was faced with two options, one involved suffering until his cock wasn't so stiff, or find a place or privacy to relieve his seed. He groaned, hiding it as an irritated growl, as he couldn't remember a time when he had been so fucking hard. He made his way to the stands, just past one more alley of tents.
Flowers smoothed her hair down the best she could, trying to sooth it back into her two tails of silver tipped locks. The bright blue parts of her gown were now smudged with dirt and she cursed him for it. She glared in his last seen direction and grumbled obscenities as she climbed out of the hidden space. She bushed he skirt off and fixed herself quickly as she emerged from the bushes and walked forward. She stumbled slightly and tripped on her skirts.
When she came out she forgot where she was. Her head light and dizzy. She had to turn in a full circle before remembering that she stood in front of a Lannister tent. She darted away, her eyes full of caution. The helm was gone.
She left that awful place and darted in a random direction, not really paying attention. She crossed tent after tent, looking for the blonde hair of Keaton, but she had forgotten which way they went. . .Where did they go? She remained calm, no trace of panic. She didn't scare easily, and getting lost was nothing new. Simply keep moving and answer to no one.
She was becoming more lost by the moment. She couldn't see Sansa or Keaton anywhere. The Mountain was here and she had lost herself from her protector. She knew very well she had no chance in fending him off. He was a monster. And here she was, cavorting with his brother, she felt so violated. She held her shoulders to comfort herself and continued along. Suddenly the flowers on her dress were a little too bright. She saw a tent with a tray bearer outside. As she passed she plucked the crystal goblet from his tray and waltzed away. She was so smooth, he didn't notice.
She took a sip and the red ruby liquid calmed her instantly. This was a sweet berry wine. No doubt this was a High garden house wine. She felt a moment of peace. Drifting along, through the soft grass. Her pace slowed and she inhaled deeply, the scent of lavender reached her nose, over the smell of horses. She was jolted to alertness by someone grabbing her arm.
"Floren!" Ned called cheerfully. "There you are!"
He twirled her about and she laughed as she balanced her wine. She giggled as he brought her close to him. With a happy sigh she put her had to his chest and he held her in his arms, she felt as home with the Notherner. Such a strong and comfortable hug, she melted.
"Where is Arya?" she asked suddenly as she pulled away, looking around.
He chuckled. "She's in the stands with her sister and Septa." He began leading her in the right direction. "I came down with the small thing after you and Sansa left. I found her and your shield, Keaton, the Dornishman." He nodded and smiled. "Keaton is a good shield. I left the girls in his and the septa's care. We're going to watch the Mountain joust the Knight Florwers next."
Her ears perked at this info. Glad as she that Sansa was safe and well, she heard His name. "Oh? Loras Tyrell? Renly is here as well?"
"Yes. Why do you ask about Renly?"
"Oh no reason. Curious you know! I am dreadfully curious sometimes." She laughed distractingly. "Too much for my own good. But the Tyrells are present?"
He understood her enthusiasm. "Your overlords aren't all here. Mostly only Loras and his entourage."
She sighed dramatically. "Well that's good!" Her eyes smiled at him, from her very soul.
He returned the same stare. They walked arm in arm to the stands. All the while Florentine was dying inside, terrified. The Mountain was up next, he would shed blood in her. She knew that's how he defined being a man, therefore he would shed as much as he could. He would want her to think him a man. It made her cringe. She wanted to run, but with Ned holding her, she knew no man would hurt her.