Tales of Westeros: The fox and the Hound

by Sataria.Zardania

"The hound killed the fox on the mountain." The Florent bastard comes back to King's Landing after time in Dorne. She makes new allies and enters the Game with unrelenting consequences. But she doesn't play alone. Time to release the Hound. Hound/OC

3. Chapter 3, Web of Whispers

Tales of Westeros: The Hound and the Fox

Season 1, chapter 5

Ned was walking with Barristan. Helen saw it, it was her duty in House Flowers to watch the Northman, to see what he did. She was also to be looking out for other little birds and weeds or whispers. While no one was looking she slipped away from her sisters, she did it with ease. Now she crept along, her own dress wasn't as noticeable as her Pommingham girls, they were all bright red and white, she resembled King' Landing girls. Discreetly, as if she was going about her way, she went up as close as she dared to the Head of the Guard and the Lord of the North.

They were ending their conversation about Robert, King Robert, and were idling away with seldom chit chat. Fighting and men, and armor and money, at first none of it seemed intriguing. Until Ned said that the Vale knight had only just been a squire prior to Jon Arryn's death, anything to do with Lord Arryn was valuable information to her mistress. She walked forward for more but was disheartened when they changed subject after Ned's father was mentioned.

"Arthur Dayne was a magnificent fighter as well," it was Ned.

"You took him down easy I heard. That battle is legendary, many still don't understand why you returned Dawn, by rights you won it in battle."

Dawn was the sword of House Dayne in Dorne. It was a mighty creation bestowed upon only a worthy Dayne. The members of its house said it was forged from the meal of a fallen star. Dawn was a sight to see, anyone bestowed with it was called the Sword of the Morning. There hadn't been a Sword of the Morning since Arthur Dayne was killed in battle. His weapon had been returned to his sister, Ashara. She committed suicide soon after.

"His family deserved to have it back. He died honorably in battle and giving the sword back to Dayne was the right thing to do. After the fall of the Targaryens, their members began dwindle, the return of their ancestral sword was necessary."

"Ashara, was one of them to dwindle." Barristan brought up the subject of a Dayne woman.

She was the younger sister and had jumped from a tower upon news of her brother's death. Eddard remembered her well. A beautiful woman with long dark hair and violet eyes that the Barristan couldn't help but love. Her eyes seemed familiar now, as if he saw them somewhere in the present time. Selmy, and even Ned himself, had danced with her at the dreaded Tourney of Harrenhal. Her appearance suddenly brought to mind another woman who drew Stark's attention.

Ned looked solemn at the memory; he was one of the last people to see her alive.

"I'm reminded of her now more than ever," he said while looking around at the crowd instead of Ned.

He laughed. "And how is that?"

"I see her in the Flowers."

Ned and Helen both looked surprised to say the least. The girl behind them gasped but covered it with a coughing fit and quickly turned her back to hide her distraction. The men ahead didn't even notice, she eyed them and continued walking. She inched closer in an attempt to hear.

The Northerner leaned in closer to the King's Guard. "Flowers?"

"Yes. Your daughter spends nearly every moment with her. Haven't you noticed?" Barristan looked around.

The Northman chuckled and nodded, "I knew she seemed familiar. You can see it without being told, but it still goes for being questioned."

The Guard shrugged. "The woman bears such a remarkable resemblance to them. She has their eyes, Ashara's hair." His voice was dreamy, sad.

"Some say its Targaryen eyes."

"Ha! Florent and Targaryen? Doubtful, very doubtful. Targaryens wouldn't concern themselves with a Tryell sworn house, but a lesser house of equal rank would," The last bit seemed put in an offhand key. "The Florents went to Dorne, true. But the royal family was elsewhere at the age she must have been conceived."

"So no one truly knows who the father is?"

Both Ned and Helen were anticipating the answer they both hoped he had. Ned had never been so close with a bastard besides his own, meeting a highborn bastard with no father sparked his interest, he guessed this is why Robert took such a liking to her. Selmy knew things he wish he didn't, knew things a man would cringe at, so many things. Like everyone else though, not even he knew the true parentage of one bastard.

He shook his head and was silent for a moment longer. "Either way, he is dead and she is fatherless. Rylene has never told a soul, and might never will. But what I do know is that she was carrying twins and only one child came from it. That alone is too big a mystery for any more people to know, which is why no one else does."

This was news to even Helen; no one ever told her that her mistress was a twin.

---

Florentine felt sick. After being attacked by the Hound, an act she deemed vulgar and in need of revenge, she forced herself to remained quiet and sit next to Sansa and her Septa. Upon going to the stands she saw him standing behind the royals, doing his sworn duty. She saw him look to her, and blatantly stuck her nose in the air, and then turned away from him. It was an insult meant for him, and he saw it.

His grip tightened on his sword. She was tempting him, and he had to remain silent.

Florentine fidgeted in her spot by Mordane Septa, the younger Stark nowhere to be seen, most likely with her tutor, whoever that was. Sitting by the grumpy Septa wasn't helped when Flowers saw her mother's banner standing amongst the numerous other colors. She fidgeted again with her bell sleeves and glanced at the woman to her left.

The older woman clearly disapproved of the Godless bastard. The Fox didn't care for her either, she followed no God really. She traveled so often to so many diverse lands and became immersed into so many cultures that Ryden's teachings became obsolete to her. Mordane didn't like the influence she had Sansa as well, detested it severely in fact. Flowers knew it without having to speak.

The old woman had firmly planted herself between the bastard and the little bird. But in truth, Flowers was so ill that he hardly noticed the old woman's scornful looks. She was glued to the ring with dread, and was disappointed when the first knight came out. She looked forward and her stomach formed into a stone ball, which fell to her feet.

He was a fearsome height. Big, imposing, daunting, haunting. He was the most terrifying thing to ride on a horse. His stallion was huge and black, black like his armor. The sun reflected off the leather and metal, the square helm was a smart choice, deflective. Florentine had never felt more terrified than when she saw the Mountain that Rides. He loomed across the stands from her, and she knew he saw her there, alone. She felt the hallow sensation one gets when their grave is crossed, and he crossed hers.

The strange, and haunting part of it all, was that, as Florentine grew older after Casterly Rock she realized something. She came to believe that the Mountain had been her celestial master in another life, or this one, and had come forward to claim her now. He would never kill her or cause her outward physical harm, but he would cause her great internal damage as he had before. She was fighting desperately to keep her freedom from him and here he was now.

He made his way to stand before his king and queen, Florentine watched his every move, cold sweat rolling down her brow. He opened his visor and bowed to the king, but in a split moment she regrettably met his eyes. She felt faint, short of breath, everything that would feel awful she felt it. It was too hot out, her dress too tight, the people too close. She felt trapped and with Keaton off hunting for the Pommingham girls, under her own foolish orders, she was left with only Ned, but he was beside Sansa.

She was, in essence, alone.

"They say the Mountain has claimed his lady luck. It's causing quite the sensation among the ladies at the houses." It was Littlefinger leaning into her ear from behind. She knew he meant his whore houses. "Have you heard?"

She turned to face him with a grin. It seemed to make him irritated that she smiled. There was a twitch in his eye, a spark.

"No Baelish, I have not. I do not frequent your places."

She turned back and watched.

"They say it's you Flowers. His token is you, and he rides for you today. The blood he spills will be in your name."

She cringed and faced him, "Gregor doesn't know love." Her eyes betrayed her in a flash of light as she looked back at Sandor over Littlefinger's shoulder. "None of the Cleganes do."

Ned remarked about Arya and Sansa replied. Floretine thought it clever and it silenced her father. Suddenly the coveted Knight of Flowers made his way down the stands. On his beautiful white mare, his armor that of Highgarden make. It reminded Flowers of the Reach. She knew this boy well, very well. He was Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers. She liked twisting the words and making it mean that he favored bastards, as the surname for bastards in the Reach was Flowers.

He rode up close to the stands and stopped at Sansa. The Fox's eyebrows went up in disapproval when he stopped before the girl and handed her the rose, she and Ned glanced at each other. Florentine was about to speak but Ned calmed her. She looked to him and he didn't have to say a word to make her slowly sit back down. It was then that she saw the look Loras gave to a spectator behind her, and she tuned to follow his sight. She saw none other than Renly Baratheon. She gazed at the man curiously.

She wanted to voice an objection but knew it was useless. They cheered and applauded as he made his way to stand by the Clegane, the younger knight bowed gracefully.

Suddenly the Mountain's horse reared and bucked! She paled instantly. He wouldn't like being humiliated by his horse. He thundered away to his post, she watched him. While her head was turned she dared to glance at the Hound from the corner of her eye. He was watching her, she snapped back to face the joust. He had seen her watch his brother, it made her sick again.

A bet went out while she watched the intense set up between knights. Littlefinger and, she turned round again, Renly. They made their bet and laughed and joked. She heard Sansa's concern. She stood and suddenly wedged herself between the girl and Septa, the older woman was too shocked to push back. Flowers planted herself firmly on the seat.

"Don't fret my dear Stark," she said. "I know Ser Loras myself, I've watched him became a knight. He rides amazingly well."

Ned smiled at her and held his daughter's hand.

Ned glanced to her. She remained calm. A hand suddenly grabbed her and she jumped! Spinning round, her hair flying, she turned and saw the smiling face of Keaton. He did as she just had and forced himself between Littlefinger and Master Pycell. Neither of them objected to the intimidating Dornishman.

"I heard about this," he pointed ahead, "and hurried back."

"Foolish man," she laughed. "I'm in the stands! No harm ever came to people in the stands."

He rolled his eyes. "Did you attend Harrenhal? I heard the stands were abuzz with chatter then. Harm came to those stands."

Suddenly the horn blew and they were off. Her laughed died, her back went straight and she held her breath. She held tight to Sansa and the girl to her. She feared for the young knight's life! They were thundering and crashing together! They passed! Wood shattered. Loras beat the Mountain! It was unbelievable!

Gregor fell and crashed into the wood railing. He broke it, smashing it to splinters. Keaton stood up and cheered behind her, clapping loudly with the crowd. She stood, letting go of Sansa, and clapped as well. She turned round to face her shield, and saw a grinning Hound behind him, her eyes looking to him instead. She stopped clapping and stared at his smile, it changed him when it was genuine.

He looked to her, she to him. In a moment they were true to one another. They gazed with an actual love. But it was gone when she looked back to Littlefinger and Renly.

Renly remarked about Littlefinger. Florentine knew it was serious. Petyr took a moment to compose himself and when he did he went back at Renly with more than the young Lord anticipated.

"When will you be having your friend?"

Her eyes grew wide in amusement and she scoffed. They both sat back down, Keaton as well, and Florentine listened. Littlefinger leaned into Sansa's ear, Ned and Flowers didn't approve and stared at him as he spoke.

He told her how Loras knew his horse was in heat. "Quite crafty really."

"Ser Loras would never do that," she objected. "There's no honor in tricks."

"No honor, but quite a bit of gold." He said.

"And what gain is there in honor-less winnings? Ser Loras is from the Reach." She sniffed at the air, "We're civilized there, unlike your little finger."

That shut him up, and made him mad. She could feel the anger radiating from him as he watched the Knight of Flowers come closer. He was trotting handsomely from the far side of the field and was waving to the crowd as he made his way to stand before the king as victor. Flowers looked all around them, watching everyone. She thought she could go through this joust with her sanity intact, with her mind un-violated.

She thought she would see more, but she was wrong. Only the Mountain met her wandering gaze. Her blood went cold when the fury was clear in his actions.

The Mountain wasn't pleased with the outcome of his fight. Flowers saw and wilted at the overwhelming heat rolling from his body. He called for his sword, was she the only one listening? She watched and her head swam as he gripped the hilt and firmly pulled it out. His squire stepped back and he gallantly took his stallion's head in one swing. Florentine stared on in horror as its blood quickly pooled and the creature sank to the ground.

He suddenly went for the Tyrell! The poor boy was taken off guard in a dramatic sudden twist! He knocked him down and she shot to her feet.

"No! Stop it! Stop!" She shouted, her protests muffled as Keaton snuck a hand over her mouth and cut off her sound. He held her against him and she fought back, punching his arms with her palms.

Grey eyes watched in surprise, surprise turned into anger and resentment. It was maddening enough that the Mountain acted in front of the Little Bird, but when Flowers stood and began screaming, Hound wouldn't let him bully the young. He stormed forward.

"Leave him alone!" He roared.

Florentine stopped fighting Keaton to realize when Sandor went to the field. She all but froze and he let go. Her lip quivered when the Hound struck swords with his monstrous brother.

"Sandor?" She half shouted, her voice bordering on hysterical.

Keaton's arm hair rose and he knew she said the wrong thing.

Sansa glanced at her, having heard the name she said. At first, no one else seemed to hear, but Keaton looked to his left and saw Littlefinger's smile. Keaton knew that wasn't good for his mistress, and believed there were no other ears present, There was no one else besides. . .but again that wasn't true.

Florentine stood still, her breath shaking. The Mountain looked to her, he had heard whose name she called for. He looked back to his brother, another who heard, and the fury became stronger. His brother was after his woman?! He roared at they clashed again!

The woman shook at the ring of their swords and Keaton jumped down to her row, further pushing aside the Septa. He gently took her in his arms and began pulling her away. She suddenly panicked and yanked away from him, or tried to. He held on and Ned stood to calm her, reassuring Keaton he could let her go. A small, private scene unfolded.

Sandor couldn't hear much, but he had heard her call his name in that one moment. As he fought with Gregor, her voice is what helped him fight harder. This was more than Florentine though, this was against his brother. His own blood brother. The monster who had burned his face, killed the rest of their family and harmed the woman he wanted. He was going to duel him for their life.

Barristan looked to see Flowers having a fit and Robert saw as well. Their king shouted for a cease fighting and Sandor fell to one knee just as Gregor swung a blow. He looked to his king and threw down his sword. He stormed away without a glance at Flowers.

Florentine stood still in relief as Loras went to the only man standing; Sandor.

"I owe you my life," he said.

Florentine heard, and remembered.

He rose his savior's hand in the air in victory and the crowd went wild. Sandor looked terribly out of place. Florentine was breathless in Keaton and Ned's arms. Ned saw the way she looked at the Hound and looked to Keaton. The Dornishman stared back with wide eyes, saying more than words could. The Northman saw, and turned away. He didn't see a need to betray her and instead went back to Sansa. Flowers shook her head and released her pent up breath.

She suddenly turned to Keaton. "You may go now. Find the girls and stay with them."

"And you?" He was lenient when it came to her safety, trusting her own judgment more than Duncan or Clement.

She smiled and looked at Ned then back to her shield. "I will be just fine. With Robert and Ned alive, no one will ever hurt me."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you're so sure about that? There are different kinds of harm Florentine."

"I am sure Keaton!" She laughed but it didn't sound full. "Go now as I command and be back at our chambers before night fall."

He nodded and turned around. He was gone and she looked back at Robert. The man was talking to Selmy, that Guard was kind to her, he stared at her. She looked back at Sandor and was jolted to find him approaching. Her violet eyes glanced around her to see that no one was watching them. He slowly went to stand before her. A sweaty, grimy shield, standing before a beautiful bastard. Her wide eyes stared at him in what he believed, was wonder.

They didn't speak as he gently took her hand and pressed something to her palm. She closed her fingers and held it to her chest. He stared at her and she returned his stare, despite what he told her about looking at him. His look was pleading and longing, hers was terrified, happy. He meant to pull away, he never even meant to give the damned thing to her, but he had anyway. Right as it felt like he would leave, her other hand went out and grabbed the armor at his elbow. Her fingers held fast and he stayed still.

He didn't look at her and in that moment he hesitated. He let her hold onto him, let her send her feelings through to him, he felt her. He felt the touch, it was the closest they had been in public, and the closet she had wanted him to be. He pulled away and left, tramping off to recover from his fight.

She shook her head and then turn and sprung through the stands to meet with King Robert before he left. She hadn't seen him in a week and was happy to see him now. A smile, a genuine smile, graced her face as he saw her and waved her closer. With skirts in hand she made it to the stairs and was by his side in a matter of seconds.

Without even looking at the object in her hand she knew it was a cuff. It was braided and the two ends left a gap for her wrist to fit through. Her finger deftly worked it on her left wrist and her long sleeves hid it from view. It had been a good idea, a hidden token. She couldn't wait to see what it looked like. Pinching the bell of her sleeve between her thumb and hand, she made sure it wouldn't show.

"Robert!" She laughed as he embraced her and pulled her close. "My king I am grateful towards you. I so detest violence." Her words sounded innocent to his ears.

He smiled and took her hand in his. He kissed the back of it warmly. "Never will you have to worry in my presence. They are brothers after all, and brothers need to fight from time to time. Of course if I were to fight my brothers it wouldn't be so fair!" He burst out laughing.

His power and strength on the battle field had been unmatched. They had been enough to defeat the Dragon Prince himself. He could have easily taken the weaker Stannis or young Renly. But even she admitted to herself that those skills and his strength were only memory now.

She smiled graciously. "All these years of peace and kingship have retired you skills. But you're still the hero of the Trident to me."

Her smile won him over. He looked into her eyes, her Targaryen eyes, and it made him wonder. Never the less, he felt her sincerity and returned it.

"That is why I adore you my child." He laughed again.

Cersei heard him and glanced at the bastard with dagger eyes.

"Ever since you were small you looked to me as a hero," he said suddenly. "When we met at Harrenhal you were so small." He recalled this fondly. "Your Measter brought you to meet me, having heard stories of my helm. You were more fascinated by the stag horns than me!" They both burst out laughing.

Barristan couldn't stop staring at her. It was her, Ashara.

"But from that day I held you in my arms I grew a liking to you. And now here we stand, some twenty years after and I still treasure you as my own. As you can remember, I had no daughters at that time."

She nodded. "And you would often write to tell me you couldn't wait for the day I was to return to Westros. Nearly ten years in Essos was a long time."

He agreed and stood to embrace her.

"Never want for anything Florentine. Always come to me." He smiled broadly. Suddenly he looked to Barristan. "Never was there a bastard as noble and great in all of Westeros."

She looked at Selmy then, never one to really look King's Guards in the eye. Not because she feared them, but because she loathed them. But Selmy looked back differently, his gaze was strange to her. She was confused then, it was as if he knew her. The man was trying to plead with her and have her remember him, but she was lost. He nodded suddenly and cleared his throat.

"You are absolutely right my King," he quickly agreed.

Whether it was to simply agree, or to mock her, she didn't know. She simply looked back, and prayed that her stare haunted him for whatever it was worth. With King Robert getting up to leave she moved back and smiled at her cousin the king. The head of the Guard continued to stare at her and she met his gaze as she passed him, following Robert. He seemed to crave the haunt, and stared until she walked away.

"Amazing," he wondered to himself.

Florentine was going to follow her adored care taker, feeling somewhat hollow from Barristan's stare down, she wanted to keep his joyful company. Reality came back, and she smiled to greet it. Trailing a step or two behind the big man. She suddenly looked back and towards the lower stands, where she left Ned and Sansa. Where were they? She didn't see them. . .

What she did see now was the blue venomous daggers being shot from the Queen. Fox felt the thrill of a challenge shoot down her spine. She lowered her head and gaze and smirked, her eyes seemed to smolder lightly. The Queen quickly followed behind her as they trailed down the walk ways to the grounds. Florentine felt sick again the whole time down, the group walked in silence. With every step she expected a real dagger to find its self buried in her back.

Expected it.

Knowing children were present, and truly not wanting confrontation, she abdicated her place at Robert's side to his wife. She respected Cersei is that way at least. It wasn't helped when a crowd gathered to greet him and cheered. He grabbed Floren's hand and pulled her to his true side. He raised her hand and laughed. She smiled awkwardly.

He turned to her and smiled brightly. "They say the Mountain rode for you today! He is quite taken with you my loved one."

She was horrified. "By the gods, he had no idea that the Mountain had ever harmed her. Unless he found it just." Her smile reflected his, "Oh I-I don't know what to say!" With him, a façade of slight airiness was needed. It kept her young in his presence, for the both of them. Besides, it was the truth.

"A marriage can easily be arranged," he winked at her.

She paled, laughed, and thanked the gods that he was merely suggesting it instead of a serious proposal.

"Ha! I doubt he would like a bastard for a wife! I'm no lady for a Ser." She responded lightly.

His gaze was sympathetic. "If your mother would just tell us who he is. Who your father is. I could legitimize you."

She didn't say anything. Her hand waved to the crowd and she held his arm, every moment garnered Cersei's hate from behind. She knew it, felt it, grew sick from it. None the less she dutifully continued to wave. Robert believed that his wife wouldn't dare harm his Flowers, and would show her affection and treat her better whether his lioness liked it or not. He was blind to thinking she would go against his word.

But Florentine was not blind. Today's charade had gone too far and she was simply waiting to escape.

The Fox didn't have to wait long. Robert quickly decided to keep walking and moved along. She leapt up to lightly kiss his cheek and then bid a good day. She mumbled excuses, saying she was merely going to fetch her wine and that she'd rather do it herself. She stood aside as the royal procession passed her by, glad that the queen and her children all looked away, the queen sticking her nose in the air. The Fox backed down and snuck away between the nearest tents.

The way she stumbled upon opened up into a larger path where horses passes and knights went to and fro. Looking left, then right, she quickly caught her barring. Up ahead, she even saw Keaton and the girls! They were at a small tent that some houses set aside for other participants or revelers. The girls were all inside while the Fowler stood guard and waited patiently for his mistress to come back.

She smiled and walked forward. She and the Dornishman had a special bond, each bond with her people was unique and special. During her time traveling between Dorne and Essos, her group was met by a Dorne shield, and he offered his protection, simply to join them. He for one, believed in the Fox from Westeros. He and the Olderflowers brothers quickly drew together as a trio and learned from each other with much appreciation. Later, Flowers learned that this was a smart political move as well, it strengthened their ties with Dorne even deeper.

She and Keaton would always come back to each other. He never had to worry about her getting lost, they gravitated to each other, pulled. Just as it was now she had found him without knowing where to go. Her smile increased and her face became sore, but she didn't care.

One moment she was happy and free, the next, the fox had been caught. The hand lashed out, surprisingly fast for a large grip. It dragged her in to the nearest tent, a deserted weapons tent. It grabbed her face, her jaw, preventing her from screaming and smashed her back against its rock hard body. In panic she grabbed onto the arm that held her and simply held on for the ride. There was no escaping from the Mountain when he had her. Her toes dangled off the ground and his other arm was lashed around her ridiculously tiny waist.

Her eyes went wide. She hadn't been alone with him since Casterly rock, six years ago. She watched him clear a table of swords and axes in one sweep of his gauntlet covered arm, they clattered to the ground but no one came to her aid. Without a word he effortlessly tossed her onto her back. His hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her so that her backside was snug against his groin. She gasped, too frightened to evoke his anger with noise.

It was him, the same man, the same beast.

His hands slid down her calves and bunched up her skirt. Her face was ashen pale and frozen in terror. Her body was locked up in place under his giant form, he leaned into her with heavy cruelty. The bright violet eyes shed a tear out of one corner. He didn't smile, he merely observed her and eased his hands under her dress to grab her waist.

She propped herself up on her elbows, staring him in the eye. Somehow the act of staring back evoked prolonged silence and stillness. His eyes were so dark, so cold and cruel. They oozed dominance and terrible mastership, that stare was trying to break her. They were nothing like Sandor's, this made her angry.

He pressed his groin to her body, the tightness of his arousal obvious. It pressed hard against her, crushing her sensitive flesh and making her squirm. She was overwhelmed by his advanced as first and a wave of fear rolled over her before she surfaced and came back with a burst of anger.

"No!" She forced the word and it came out loud, firm, but edged with nervous tension.

Her hands lashed forward to press against his waist, to make him stop. One hand splayed out against his hard lower abdomen, the other instinctively formed into a fist and began beating his steel sides. Tears came from either eye and she fought to force him to leave her. His hands left her in a moment and plucked her wrists from the air. He forced her onto her back, slamming her delicate body against the wooden table. Her head hit harder than anticipated and she saw stars across her vision.

In her daze he took a moment to notice that she was wearing something on her wrist. It was a cuff, he could feel it. He pulled back her sleeve to expose her bruising skin, and saw it before she could. One end was a snarling Hound, the other was a curious Fox. He knew what it meant, exactly what it meant. The anger was coming, spreading like poison through his veins.

He locked both her wrists in his iron grip. She came out of her daze just as he was lifting her skirt. She panicked and struggled, flinging herself about like a frightened animal. He scowled and crushed her wrists, the cuff digging into her skin. She whimpered and closed her eyes, knowing that there was no freeing herself. Once again, due to her own arrogance, she was caught by the Mountain. He would take her there, on the table, take her innocence in the coldest manner he could. He would do whatever he wished to her.

He suddenly stopped and looked back. The beast seemed to sense someone or something, without seeing it. His eyes darkened and she could feel him relaxing. She opened her eyes to look at him, he was preoccupied with listening for something else, she dared not move.

First it was her name, faint. It was Keaton, looking for her. He was calling her name in the outside world. She didn't even look to his voice, she focused on the man above her. He looked back to her and then yanked her up and threw her to the ground. She fell so hard and fast that she hardly knew what had happened.

He suddenly swooped in above her. He drove his hand under her skirts and to her maidenhood, it only took one finger to make her gasp and looked to him in pain. He was aggressive, hard, he was telling her that he owned her. It was written in their stars and he knew it.

"Tell no one of this," he whispered.

It came to her as more of a threatening growl. To send his message home her gave her a second finger, and pushed forward. The pain of his intrusion on her virgin body made her shake her head in vigorous silence. He derived pleasure from her moan of fear and pain.

He left her as quickly as he had taken her and left the tent, unsatisfied. He stalked away and she was left breathless. Her body was shaking so hard that standing was a feat, she had to lean against a pole for support. She heard her name called again, cheerful in his way. Her hair was messed, her dress rumpled, wrinkled and disheveled.

She gingerly touched the cuff at her wrists and felt it slightly bent. The fox went to stand against a pole near the entrance. The world was still the same outside, despite the horror behind walls. It was off to the left, coming from heir temporary tent. Oddly enough, next to him, looking at the opposite side of tents, was Selmy himself.

She stared at the Guard and then down at her wrist. The cuff was copper, braided between the two animal heads on either end. A fox and a hound. He fox had amethyst eyes, the hound's eyes were a smoky quartz. She know knew why the Mountain was so vicious. The braid was slightly bent.

Her eyes looked back up as her shield approached. She worked a smile onto her face and greeted them. Keaton warmly took her under his arm and guided her back to their tent. Selmy nodded to Keaton and Flowers, before turning to leave.

"What did he want?" She asked

He looked after the Guard. "A place on the King's Guard," he smirked.

"While I'm sure your service would be greatly appreciated, what did he want?"

"We walked into each other, and he asked if you fared well. That's when he started walking with me to look for you, he was passing by in any case."

She nodded. Selmy was an interesting man. He didn't seem happy with his lot in life, with the Guard. She wouldn't be surprised if her shields were soon asked to join the Guard with its falling numbers. Selmy she knew posed no threat to her. Keeping him in mind she turned to the girls and began conversation.

---

Hound wanted to see her again. With his brother out there and her sending her shields off all the time, he was getting anxious. Once Joffery was surrounded by his parents' guards, he slipped away. Unnoticed. A flagon of wine went down his gullet as he hurried to find her.

His eyes went from side to side. Searching here, that tent, he saw her then. Walking dazed ahead of him, he even let himself smile. He heard a scream behind him, and turned to the side to see a drunkard chasing his whore. She laughed.

When he turned back round, she was gone. His heart went hallow, he froze. He didn't hear her, running forward he didn't find her. She had been in his rasp and was now gone. How did this happen? He raced forward, and looked into each tent that he passed. Suddenly he peered into a tent, and saw him. His brother was on a woman. He stopped and went back. . .that was his woman.

Florentine shouted no! She stared at Gregor with such fire that Sandor froze. He wanted to storm forward and kill his brother then, end his reign of horror. Fox was safer with him outside, if he rushed in, Gregor might slit her throat. If the Mountain couldn't have her, no one could.

He heart raced furiously, his blood burned. He was tired from the fight and in no mood to swing his sword. But he would if it meant protecting her. His face twisted horridly in a grimace and he was about to draw his sword. The Fowler man's voice reached his ears and he stopped. He looked up and saw the shield and Commander of the King's Guard coming his way.

He looked back in and saw the Mountain leave her, toss her to the ground. The Hound angrily backed away around the corner. He closely watched as she wandered out of the tent in a haze. She looked messed, and then looked down at her wrist. She saw the bracelet and her smile was the brightest he had ever seen. It made him feel a rock in his throat. He looked closer, and saw . . .that her wrist was bleeding. It wasn't serious, but it was enough to make him furious again. A figure moved behind him, he turned and saw none other than his brother, walking away.

As soon as her shield gathered her close, he was able to rest and walked away. He hurried back to that brat prince, to pay dog watch. Flowers was his and by giving her the cuff he proved it. He had something good in this world, she would try to fight it but he wanted it and this was something he wasn't going to give up. This fucking kingdom had taken everything from him, and suffered him much pain along the way.

If the Realm was going to give him anything, it may as well be a lovely woman of noble house. Flowers was no pure blooded woman, but she would do. Sandor knew she would do. If he would have anything in his life he decided that it was the fox and it was beginning now.

---

Flowers was let into Varys' apartments. She had the two eldest of her maidens Aella and Siggy. Both were tall and lovely. She strode in and Varys smiled as she went to his tables. She sat opposite the man, sliding into her chair. He looked to her girls and nodded politely, she nodded once and dismissed them. They curtsied and made their way to the small garden outside, steps down the terrace.

With them gone, Flowers turned to her friend. Wine was poured and she silently saluted him. When she set the goblet down she looked at the red liquid quietly, ponderously. Varys waited for her to speak and could see her thinking. It made him grin. He noticed the way her hands shook, the wine was good for her. She always had enough of it.

"You know I always enjoy your company Flowers. Mostly when you speak." He said.

She smiled and her body relaxed. "I had to come speak to you Varys, to see if you knew."

He looked curious. "Know what? Many things go on Flowers, I hear many whispers."

"Then I'm sure you've heard the stories coming from across the Dothraki Sea. That the two surviving members of House Targaryen reside there."

He knew where she was going. Just recently, he himself had heard the news. He nodded.

"The Princess is pregnant." She declared.

"You call her princess?"

"That is what she is. Her father, mad or not, was king. Now her child will be born, heir to the throne." She stared hard at him, placid, her eyes deep and wordless. "Look into these eyes and tell me what you see Varys."

He looked. She drank.

"If I am a mere prisoner, and they have been allowed to live this far, what will happen now? To the child?" Her voice was hopeful. Her eyes saddened.

He looked at her and saw her thoughts. "Yes this does change things now. With the Targaryen line continuing its stronger than ever. The girl will have better leverage to convince her husband to march."

"Not even Khal Drogo would cross the narrow Seas. They don't trust what isn't sand."

"Have you met him?" The Spider asked. He was keenly interested and had failed to ask her. She had spent some time across the Narrow Seas, he was surprised she never met the Targaryens herself.

She grinned. "Drogo? Oh yes, I met a younger Drogo. I was a small child when his convoy met mine. We simply passed and that was the end of it. For a savage he is a smart man. He wouldn't cross those seas. He knows nothing of our lands and knows that himself. He could take and hold King's Landing for years, but he could never dominate all of Westeros."

Varys looked at her while taking into account all she said. He nodded in agreement. "Still the child must be dealt with this way. This is the heir to the Mad King, his blood runs through them and even you will admit that that blood line is best cleared. War is already being foretold, adding an attack from the Seas will only tear the Realm farther apart."

"Then this is for the good of the Realm?" She questioned. The answer was clear.

"Yes my dear Flowers," he said. "It is always for the Realm, you know that."

"Aye, for the Realm," she saluted the Realm and drank deeply.

She had no words to that wisdom. Even she had said, in the past, that the children of the last king were his ilk and thus shared his madness. Having a child should be a joyful thing, but here they were planning to kill an unborn child. It was monstrous. She realized she was growing soft in an instant and it struck her. Dumbfounded, she looked off out to the open expanse of sky outside his rooms.

"Is that why Arryn was murdered? Because he found a child? Because he asked so many questions. . ." She asked. She clearly massaged her wrist, one after the other. Carefully, gently. Varys saw.

"You have many questions this time. I'm not opposed to them but I'm sure you know these answers. You seem to know what to ask."

"I don't know who killed him, but I now know why. A child." She rolled her eyes, "Or children I should say. Lion cubs a plenty," her eyes sparked at that and he leaned forward in his chair. He was surprised, she nodded. "Yes, what happens when a lion mates with a lioness?"

He was quiet.

"Why, more lions of course," she grinned and leaned back. "It's a story I've heard, rather entertaining to me. Much like the story of two dragons, and how they produce more dragons."

"You do love your stories." He said, he was used to her way of secrets, speaking in riddles and relating secrets to stories.

"I've heard many new ones," she winked. But in a moment her face went solemn and she sighed. "Like Arryn, he found just how strong the seed is and then drowned in tears. How long before Eddard finds what we know in that book?" she daintily covered her mouth in private shock. She choked on her voice and looked away.

"And figures it out?" He said for her.

"Where does Robert stand in all of this mess? This mess under his own rule. . ."

Varys took a moment to gauge whether it was safe to tell her. Let her know at least, he practically owed it to her. Perhaps, something he told her would save her from her brother's fate.

"The impending Fall will decide the fate of everyone in the game, Flowers. Some will not make it to see this coming Winter. Winter is coming after all." He said.

She knew every word he meant. Her eyes watered and she tried hard to not cry. "He has grown weak but that doesn't mean he has to. . ." She paused for a moment to compose herself and think of the Realm. She nodded. "And our Hand will fall into unknown fate?"

"No force I know of now will bring his end." He stared her in the eye. "At this time," he added.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips. He was safe for now but this still held untold consequences for her. She had struck a deal with Stark and if he fell, she was pushed into the open for attack Thus was the game. She looked outside and saw her girls wandering around the fountain, she worried for them yes. She worried for them because she wasn't sure what would happen to them, should she fall before them. Her people would be worthless to society. Outcasts, freaks. No one would want them. They would break apart and fade into the Reach as individuals, when they were on an the same. A silent vow to never die was cast into her mind.

There was always one person who could ease her troubled mind. A man she had met many times since returning to Westeros seven years ago. They met and grew into instant love. Not as lovers, but as family .She was a bastard, a freak already and he was an imp. She adored him and he her.

"Where is Tyrion?" She said, her voice near a whine. "He's been gone too long for comfort."

"You know nothing of the North do you?" Varys questioned, surprised.

She looked glum, "My birds don't concern themselves with problems north of the Trident. I have my eyes in the Landing and across the Seas. I work outside of the Realm, for the Realm." She tipped her wine to him and drank.

He laughed, rare. She was of the few who could evoke such a sound from him. His laughter faded, as did his smile.

Then you don't know." She stopped as well. "Tyrion is held captive by Lady Stark in the Eryie."

Florentine gasped. "Is he now? Wh. . .when?! How long? Can he be helped? If I have to ride all the way to the North myself, I will!" She sprang from her seat and stood up. He grabbed her arm gently and had her sit back down.

"Nothing can help him. He will not die, I guarantee you Flowers."

"You guarantee ?" She was amazed.

He nodded. "This I can promise." His mind was racing with the wealth of information she had passed ot him. So fluidly, he was impressed by her skill.

The woman sighed. "I don't know where your information goes from here Varys. But I trust you, I trust who you give it too. No matter if it makes me furious, I know you work for the Realm."

"As do you."

She smiled. "We both do. I learned that from you of course. As for myself," she took a moment to think. "I have always served the Realm."

He took her hand and she held it tightly. Her eyes were down cast. There was something she was about to tell him that he may not have known, he sensed it coming.

"Twas the Lion that failed to kill the wolf." She recited the verse as if it were a poem. "Just as no stag was ever born with fair hair."

With that she slowly stood up. No more information needed to be shared. Varys had another comrade to share this with, he stood with her. She called her maidens to her and then promptly turned to the door, he followed them. Just before leaving she turned to him, smiling and embraced him.

"Until the council meeting Varys." She stood around his height, tall, willowy, her ears somewhat larger than average, her eyes glowing.

Varys felt he was looking at a Targaryen. "Visit again my dear Flowers. Your visits don't last long enough to speak fully."

She looked outside over his shoulder. Her body leaned in close so that she hugged him and whispered into his ear, "We may never speak fully with one another Varys. Until Next time!" She spoke that last phrase loudly and then left his chambers.

He knew that once the plans with the Lions went into play, that she would be one step away from total vulnerability. Flowers would take this grace, he thought. She would know that sacrificing one for the good of the Realm was sometimes needed to protect many. If that many putting herself in check for the good of the people, he doubted she would say no.

As Florentine walked away from the only real friend she had, she didn't think of the master plan at hand. Her thoughts wandered and she thought of him. She hated him, wanted to stab him! He had accosted her, groped her, degraded her and. . .dominated her. This would not do. Sandor Clegane must die, she decided. He would be a minor nuisance. Yes when the time was right, The Hound would fall by her hands.

He could have his bloody bracelet back. She rubbed it, on her tender wrists, she hadn't taken it off since the Tourney of the Hand. Her wrists were now a darker color of purple with yellowing edges. It looked awful, but her long sleeves hid it well. She growled to herself. First his brother, now him, it made her angry above all. The House Clegane thought they could push around the Flowers did they? She was going to push right back. Starting with the youngest of them.

---

When the Council assembled Floretine sat next to Varys at the end of the table and as far from Renly and Littlefinger as possible. When Robert came in she was happy to see him, she heard from her spider friend that he would attend this time. Still, it came somewhat as a shock. They waited for Ned to arrive and when he did, the meeting began with Robert.

"The whore is pregnant," He droned.

Florentine flinched at these words, "She's not really a whore," she chided him.

"Not now Florentine," he said. While he wasn't about to grow angry, he was being serious.

"You're talking about killing a child." The Stark was furious and shocked by his friend the king.

"I warned you this would happen!" He shouted. "You refused to hear it."

Florentine looked at Ned and then back to Robert.

"Listen now and hear it; I want her dead." Robert was harsh and direct. He was being a king.

Flowers read fear behind his fierceness. She was appalled by his blood thirst. She found herself, again, torn between two more opposing side. Knowing it was unwise to do so, she spoke up.

"Your highness," she said with a cautious voice.

Varys looked at her.

Robert shook an open hand at her in warning, "Not now Flowers," he growled. "I want mother and child dead. I want that fool, Visearys dead as well. Is that plain enough?" He asked.

They all looked between Robert and Ned, the tension was strong. Flowers was nervous, Varys was anxious, even Littlefinger looked curious.

"I want them both dead."

Robert's declaration was final and cruel. Ned didn't agree and voiced about his honor, such a man of honor. Not even Flowers could say that she had such diligent duty to honor as this Stark did. She had to admire him for that, but honor was a foolish dream in the game. She was beginning to realize that she had failed to explain this properly to Ned, and now it was obvious where he truly stood.

Her heart sped up with Robert's rise of emotions. She wanted to stop him, calm his rant, abate his anger. Her breathing quickened, her pupils shrunk. She grabbed her wine cup, and drank.

"Then we are no better than the Mad King!" Ned objected.

"Careful there Ned," Robert was truly angry.

"Please Robert," she said. "Let the man speak his mind."

She had gone too far. Robert turned to her and pointed. His eyes were as dark as the Storm lands from where he came. She instantly shut her mouth and realized her mistake. This was her punishment.

"This is the last time I will tell you no Flowers. Don't make me tell you again." His tone was so dark that the woman paled and her lips pressed tightly shut.

She didn't say anything else.

Ned recovered for her. "You want to assassinate a girl, because a spider heard a rumor."

"No rumors," Varys said. "The Princess is indeed with child."

"This is true." She dared speak again, quietly, but was heard all the same. Now accosting Ned. "The Targaryen girl is carrying a small child, just one. One is all is that is needed to tip everything."

"Based on whose information?" He looked between the two.

Flowers gave the right to speak to her male counterpart. He gladly took over.

"Jorah Mormount. He is advisor to the Targaryens at this time."

The woman member watched the men as they began jabbing at each other. It went to Ned and his disgust at their trust in a traitor. Varys didn't respond, Littlefinger had something to say though. He pointed out the difference between Slaver and Traitor, saying Jorah was a Slaver. It went between them again before Robert interjected. She reached out and laid a hand on Varys' arm, he glanced down and saw that her wrist was covered in black and blue patches on her skin. He glanced at her.

"A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army," Robert presented a horrific image.

Ned voiced her argument, Varys realized this. What the Northman said sounded like sane advice to Flowers! She agreed, and wanted to tell him, but was silent. She knew now was no time to interrupt her king. Unlike her, he didn't favor Ned's plan. Suddenly Robert changed, he looked around the council.

"You're my council, council! Talk some sense into this honorable fool!" He looked to her and pointed from her to Ned. "Flowers, you like him, talk sense into him! I know you know what's best. Now tell him."

All eyes turned to her. Some were bemused, some smug. She looked back with a placid face.

"Ned, I am a woman. I don't want any woman to lose her child! But we must lead the Realm. We must do for the Realm." She looked to him pleadingly. "Ned," she whispered. "Please understand, its for the Realm."

He looked to her shocked, "You agree with them?"

"I understand your misgivings," she said.

Varys interrupted, swooping in and gaining attention. "As do I. I truly I do! It is a terrible thing, a vile thing! Yet we who presume to rule, must sometimes do vile things. We must for the good of the Realm." He clearly stressed where the importance lay.

"Should the Gods grant the Princess a son," she spoke up. "Our shores will bleed. And then more of the Land will bleed as well."

Measter Pycell took part then. Speaking up and taking part. He voiced a typical view, agreeing that the Dothraki had horrible potential. The argument went to Renly, surprisingly enough. He too had been quiet until then, his vote was the same. Littlefinger made a mockery of it. Ned listened, and Flowers watched him. He was listening hard, close, he understood them all and his honor was too strong. She feared for him then and wanted him to speak.

Finally they all fell silent. He walked forward to the King. Florentine was amazed as she witnessed just how strong a man Stark was. Never, in all her life, had she seen such a noble cause walk forward to object the injustice of it to his own king.

"I followed you into battle. Twice! Without doubts, nor second thoughts," He leaned forward. He eyed the king, and then looked to her. "And you. You escaped the war when you were nothing but a child. What would the death of one more child be to you?"

It stung her and he went on. She looked on sadly as he sparred off against Robert Baratheon himself.

"The Robert I grew up with, would never tremble in the shadow of an unborn babe."

There was silence as Robert stared him down. He perfectly explained to his Hand, just what being Hand entails. Ned decided he no longer wanted to be Hand. Flowers gasped and leapt to her feet. As he strode out of the room, Robert streaming threats behind him, she ran and grabbed his shoulder, her wine still balanced in her cup. He turned and stared at her, his gaze hard and cold. Cold like his North Lands.

"Lord Stark," she pleaded. "Please, you have to understand. The Realm includes your own lands. They simply want to avoid war and chaos now, rather than wait for it to fester into something more."

"Who do you serve Flowers? Me or your King?" He leaned in close grabbing her arm, "You swore fealty to me and that entails this." He gestured to the council chambers. "So who?"

"In the end," she said quietly. "the Realm." She was honest.

He let her go and stormed away. She let him go, praying to all the Gods that he understood her at least. Damned be the rest of those fools, he had to understand her. He left the throne room and she remained standing there, her wine tipping. Robert's ranting and angry raving still came from the council chamber. Renly decided to leave, and in doing so saw her. He smirked and went to her side, clearing his throat as he approached, making her jump. Her cup straightened.

"Flowers," he greeted. He didn't wait for a response. "You seemed to be very in favor of Lord Stark. You wouldn't happen to be in a close relationship with him. . .Would you?" His accusation was simple but rudely clearly.

"We are friends. I tutor his daughter, per his request. Who am I to refuse help to the King's hand."

"Former, King's Hand." He reminded her with a smirked. "I don't think the Tyrells, nor the Florents, will be happy with these rumors. Were they to reach the Reach."

She didnt respond. Her silence was his reason to smile. He laughed once at her.

"My brother may care about you but I see you for what you are. A bastard. Something you are and always will be. I hear dyou branded a bastard, literally. Is it true? Of the scars on your shoulder?" Her eyes teared up. "What are they exactly?"

She took a moment to think of a response. And then grinned softly when she spoke to him. That arrogant young man.

"My brand isn't nearly as loud as yours. Your Knight of Flowers is your brand, and you wear him with a glance." She returned his smirk.

He returned her jab by smacking her across the face. The back of his ring clad hand hit her delicate face and she gasped as she was flung to the side by the force of it. Eyes from the shadows watched. She gasped and covered her face as she continued to stare at the opposite wall.

"You are a bastard." He said, his tone was degrading. His footsteps left her hunched over, touching her now numb cheek.

She hissed at the pain and then slowly stood back up. She didn't even notice it when a knight approached her. She looked to them with watery eyes, and found not a knight in sight.

He looked to her, dark grey eyes storming. She could feel the storm, wanted to ride it. He gazed at her with a stiff look. She turned before he could stop and led him through a servant's corridor, she knew many of them. And led him away from the council chamber. He followed

When she stopped she turned to face him, and didn't look up to meet his gaze. She remembered a warning to not look to his eyes. She looked out the window to her right instead.

"You let him do that to you? The mighty Dorne Ambassador, the Fox of the Reach, lets a fag smack her around." He looked to the chalice in her hand, her shaking hand. "And a drunkard."

She looked at him and her eyes went cold. He suddenly felt her true wrath.

"Because he can, Hound." She gave him an arrogant look. "I am the Bastard of Brightwater. He is a lord of Storm's end. I have no choice."

"No choice but to let him hit you? Fucking pathetic."

Before he could react she suddenly growled and launched at him, her wine goblet flung to the ground in disregard. She smacked him quickly, several times, across the face and then darted behind him and jumped on his back, miraculously managing to free her legs of her skirts. She then wrapped her nimble legs around his waist, locking her ankles together. He was taken by surprise and a private struggle ensued. He backed her up until he slammed her into the wall.

She gasped but her fury gave her a rush of willpower to hold on. She pulled out her dagger from a secret hilt strapped to her calf and even held it to his throat. Her last encounter with the Mountain left her with the need for protection. Ryden had found her bruising and demanded she wear the secret dagger. She relented.

"You accosted me!" He grabbed her arm. "You insult me and you shamed me!"

"Let go you fucking fool!" He growled. "This is ridiculous Flowers , and you fucking know it."

She silently admitted that this must look mad. He was refusing to hurt her more than he had to, knowing how small her frame was to his. Should she be like Brienne of Tarth, now that was one hell of a woman. That was a woman who could take on the Hound at full power, not the Fox.

They were still with her blade at his neck.

"Well?" He growled. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Retribution!" She kicked her heels into his side. He winced. "I don't like being grabbed by a man I am not engage to! You were a disgusting display of rape."

He dared laugh! "You foolish bastard." He wheezed. "Don't you realize ownership when you see it? I claimed you. As dog's do, as Clegane's do."

"What are you talking about? Have you gone mad?"

"That cuff around your wrist." He tapped it with a finger. "By Clegane tradition, we claim our brides by placing a cuff on their wrist. If another Clegane man was to remove it and place his own, he would own her."

She sneered in disgust. "Horrible!" She hissed. "Barbaric."

"And binding by some old law in Westeros. My forefather's have practiced it before our house had colors."

"You violated me before that bloody thing! You can have it back!"

He smirked. "If you remove it I'm free to have you arrested. And held in the public stocks."

She knew the confidence in his voice. He was telling the truth and she would be fool to fight him.

"Will anyone else know of this blasphemy?" She dared to ask from gritted teeth.

"No."

"Can it be annulled.?"

"If the husband is so willing."

"Damn you Hound," she whispered. "Damn you, you fucking bastard."

"Watch your mouth," he hissed.

She pressed the blade to his neck again," Slowly let me out from this wall, I'm losing breath."

He did and as soon as she dropped down he spun round and grabbed her shoulders. She was pressed against the glass and too breathless to do anything. She stared at him in anger, her violet eyes raging.

"This way no one will touch you. Only I will have that rite and you'd best remember it." He said gruffly.

She wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse. Either way, she didn't want him. "This can't be legal!" She hissed.

"Not before the before any priest. But before all of Westros." It was all he said.

Somehow, some force compelled her to believe his mad rant. It felt sound to her, settled. She hated him for it. She shoved against him and he stepped back. She straightened her gown and propped on foot up on the window sill. She placed the small dagger in the hidden strap and then smoothed her long skirt.

"I demand one thing of you," he said. He looked down at her and she stared back, her normally crafty eyes were beady and critical. "Answer my question. Why do you let that fucking pompous ass beat you? I didn't see you a coward."

Not only was his claim preposterous, he was now challenging her courage and bravery. She blushed when he looked at her, his gaze so deep and grey. He had demanded that she not look into his eyes, yet that was all he did.

"I have no choice Hound. In the end I am a bastard. I was born without a father, though he is noble blood. I just don't know who." She sighed in annoyance. "I'm here because they said I could never be here. But I am on their playing field, I play by their game here. I have had to do things I wish I hadn't! You know nothing of what it's like to be a noble bastard! Now fuck off!"

She stomped her heel on the ground with a loud crack. She turned with a swish of her skirts and spun away from him. He stood there, watching her vanish. His hand reached out to her like a ghost to its loved one. He had just told her how he felt about her, to make her his wife. She had spit on him! He was furious but intrigued. She was his now and this was true, he was going to make sure she knew that. By any means.

This would save her skins, with the future in darkness, the Hound could only be sure that she belonged to him and this was the only way. It was all for her own good, and she didn't even know. There were two things Hound knew, one he would need to search for the answers. The first he knew, was that Westeros was coming to war, it was coming with the approaching Winter, whenever the fuck that was. The second was that she wasn't going to accept him easily, and he would have to fight her on it.

---

Sansa was a lovely little girl. Especially when she smiled. Florentine loved when the girl smiled, she had her father's smile. It touched the bastard's heat that they were so close. She never knew her father, still didn't even know his name.

That was one of the saddest things she felt, she felt that she had met him before, whoever he was. But no one had come forward, nor had her mother told her. That frigid bitch, Florentine called her names yet held a respect for the woman. She had since married a Westerosi Ser. In the year since Florentine fled Westeros, she and her Florent mother hadn't seen each other or spoken.

Flowers never expected to have children herself, and thus took a love to Sansa. She had tried to entice the younger Stark girl, but she was too strong willed. The Bastard thought she would have been a cunning opponent in the game.

The girl and Flowers' entourage all sat around the oak table in her chambers. Florentine was, of course, as close to the red head as possible. She sat with her hand gently resting on her shoulder in a friendly manner. The young one didn't mind it. She leaned towards her surrogate mother and was happier than she'd been in a long time.

Ryden, Keaton and Duncan sat outside on the Terrace, watching over the little party. Arriatny sat in her chair, fanning herself with a smile. The Pommingham girls all sat around the table, Clement in the middle of them. Though he was twin to Duncan, he seemed much younger. The girls laughed over his jokes and poems. He adored their attention.

The Maester looked at Florentine. They had recently spoken about all that had occurred in King's Landing since their arrival. She told him of her blunder in the Meeting. He told her of all that their eyes had seen and ears had heard. But what he detested the most was her prediction of the political movement coming.

She had developed many fast conspiracies and it had her father worried. She never created so many stories and accusations. From the lions mating with each other, to the death conspiracy against Danearys Targaryen and her unborn child. How she had publicly been called on all her pledges. She had confessed to Ryden of her allegiance to Ned, which only Siggy knew about prior. She was reaching a conclusion, she told him this, a conclusion to what Arryn was on about. For that is what she and Ned were trying o know. She had slowly been feeding him tid bits of information for weeks. Everything she knew would mean something to him, some parts she even led him to.

She had even confessed that the Mountain had cornered her, but omitted the grizzly details. He still saw her wrists, and put the obvious facts together. He knew more about her than she thought. He hadn't been happy about her change of fealty and was worried over it. He knew the Mountain had recently left, and they would see no more trouble from him.

Yet there was something she was still missing, she knew it. This she could feel, and she wouldn't take her findings to Ned without them being complete. She had somewhat repaired her shame with the Stark lord, his daughter had a hand in that. He allowed her to continue seeing the Flowers, even if he didn't himself.

When he needed her he would call her.

But what made him fear for her, was that they both knew where future events would place her. Should something happen to her beloved cousin, she would be dangerously close to being in real danger. Ned wouldn't have strong power enough to protect her. They would both be thrown into limbo of sorts.

Long ago, before returning to Westeros, she told Ryden that she was for the Realm. And the Realm alone. He knew she worked to protect the Reach and Dorne, her two homes. To save them she has to save the Realm and that's where she stood. He knew her.

That's why he stared at her as she laughed with the Stark child. She was so calm on the outside, he dared believe that she knew the future and was preparing for it. She obviously was very attached to the Starks now, one of the many reasons Cersei hated her. He saw how one shoulder weighed down heavier than the other. He saw how she lost sleep by the dark circles under her eyes. The others didn't but he did. There were a few months when she was small, where he was he solely caretaker. She was born in OldTown and passed to him upon birth, with that he knew her well.

She adored the girl beside he, passing her lemon cakes and peppermint tea. Making sure she wanted for nothing. He admired her strong maternal instincts, but he was suspicious of her. He knew she harbored, strange ideals. He was beginning to think that this was something more than maternal. But he let her enjoy it anyways, she enjoyed so little in life.

His eyes didn't go unfelt. His gaze was strong on her back and she felt it. Yet she didn't look back at him and his pale blue eyes. His stare that reminded her so much of the Reach, and the Keep that she wanted more than anything.

Now was the time to enjoy Sansa's company, and she loved it. The Fox loved being so close to her, near her, touching her. Making her laugh and smile, happy. This is what it was like to love someone was it not?

A servant entered and several eyes watched her cross the room to Flowers. She leaned down into her ear and whispered one sentence, inaudible to anyone else. Flowers nodded and rose from her seat, she excused herself from Sansa and left her in the care of her people. She was out of the room before the men could get to her. Ryden and Duncan's warning calls went loud as she left their sights. They jogged the rest of the way and flung the door open. She had vanished and they were left with furious minds.

---

"There isn't much time," Varys ushered her along and whispered to her.

She nodded and followed his lead without doubts or second thoughts. "Well it would be nice to know what I have no time for."

He took her down a hidden corridor, faster than going through all the people. Turn after going down a flight of stairs. They maneuvered the maze of the palace and hurried to be out of it. Along the way he held her forearm in a soft grip.

"Lord Stark seems to have found himself in a corner. He will be needing your assistance, if you get here faster enough. Jaime is following him, news of Tyrion's capture is upsetting the lions nest, and the wolves are treading on very thin ice my Flowers."

She nodded with wide eyes, her heart standing still and her nerves on fire. She didn't need any more of an explanation as he pulled her to the last door. They opened it and stood in the shade from the summer sun. Flowers looked out into the city and then at Varys.

"Where?" She demanded.

"Littlefinger's brothel. His favorite one."

She nodded and flung herself into the city. Streets were a blur, she knew where to go. People stared as she ran passed but no one gave her trouble, they let the bastard pass. All the while she worried for her Lord. This would be her chance to improve her failure. Not to mention he was going straight into a falsehood! How foolish to go to Littlefinger at this time. To so much as leave the castle! He was such a fool, she had to hurry. And to trust Littlefinger!

Several occasions before, she had tried to persuade him to trust Varys. He didn't trust Spiders, Littlefinger was closer to his family, closer to home. Due to the man's love of Lady Stark, which was no secret, Lord Stark foolishly believed the little liar. If he had listened to her in the first place she wouldn't be racing to save him! Worried, yes, so worried for the mighty wolf.

Up ahead she spotted White cloaks among the crowd. Sensing it was best to avoid them in such open circumstances, she ducked into an alley and darted forward. Sewage and muddy water lay under her feet and she tactfully refused to acknowledge the reeking smells. Just before leaving the pathway, a group of guards began marching past up ahead. She gasped and flung herself into a doorway. Peeking round the corner, she watched until they thinned out and moved ahead.

Violet eyes dilated when she saw Jaime, her cousin. The man had always been nice to her, when she was a younger girl she even had feelings for him, but she had developed suspicions of him having a secret lover years ago and since then moved on from him. She watched him strut by, wanting to go to him and demand that he turn away from hunting the wolf. But the woman knew that was a dangerous thing, and she wasn't prepared for a fight.

She saw an even smaller path between two buildings. Wanting to get further, with no other choice, she darted through and flew beyond them. Bursting out into another road she quickly recognized it and followed along. Up ahead, thanks the Gods, was the brothel itself. Unimposing on the outside, she knew inside was a lavished and lovely house of seduction. In other towns she had crossed the threshold, yes; she had had women before. But her flower was now claimed. She grimaced when she thought of the Hound. How revolting to be claimed by a man with such barbaric views.

She opened the door and stepped across the door frame, entering into the dark place. She went through the place, the girls watching her, some with flirtatious looks. One in particular, a pretty small brunette, scarcely clad and with gifted breasts. Florentine was enthralled at first but eyed her with suspicion. She smiled at the Bastard and took her hand.

"Come, our friend said you'd be here." She smiled kindly.

Flowers nodded and let the whore guide her to a room. Once inside the girl shut and locked the door, and then went to Flowers and grabbed her face. She kissed the woman and the woman grabbed her back, this was a reflex. She sucked her breath away, consumed her lips and mouth in a fiery moment of passion. She even bit the younger girl's bottom lip when she pulled away. The younger was flushed and then grinned and nodded, this was confirmation that they could trust each other. She took the older bastard's hand and led her through a hidden door, leading into corridors and up stairs. She was flushed and tired but still, the Fox went forward.

Suddenly the girl took her behind a large wood screen built into a wall. They were close against another wall and the girl pointed forward through the design. There was littefinger, a woman with her baby, and Ned. The Ser pointed to the woman and walked towards her, the Lord Stark watched, his eyes focused on the baby. When the blanket revealed a small child with black hair, it made sense to Florentine then. She knew that black hair, she'd heard about King's Landing crawling with black haired bastards. There was one man she knew whose children would only bare black hair.

This confirmed her thoughts on Arryn. He found what she and Ned had, what Baelish probably knew already. That wasn't just any man's bastard. She saw Ned speak to the Ser more, it was beginning to dawn on him as well. It was all coming together. The bastard expected him to be running off to her next, to confirm this. Next he would go to the King, and she would join him.

Flowers had things to discuss with him and she was going to set this disgusting mystery to rest. Looking to her left she saw that the whore had crept away, good bye. The older woman went to the hidden door and waited, waited for her Lord to leave. She waited patiently and her waiting paid off when Stark finally left in a hurry.

She opened the door when he shut the other. Littlefinger turned when he heard her enter and a look of surprise took his face. At least she had that, she grinned. Walking forward she let her shoulders relax and smiled deviously.

"Hello Baelish," she nodded her head in respect. She was on his land. "I believe we have something to talk about."

"We do? I don't recall inviting you here to share with you." He eyed her cautiously.

A bird versus a fox. She grinned; he should be diligent.

"I have come across things that led me here," she laced her fingers together and nodded at the mother and her baby. The young woman was clearly unsure about what to do next. The elder bastard walked forward and gazed intently at the Ser before her.

"I'm here not as an enemy Baelish," she firmly said to him. "I'm here for answers that you know I will find myself."

"Then why come to me if you know you'll find the answers beyond my help?" He asked. His eyes watched her closely, mean and darkened.

She stopped in front of him. "Because its true isn't it? All that Arryn knew, which I do now." She was taller than him. "These are his children, not the ones he claims. Those belong to a white lion." Her voice was slow and methodic. As if each word was a piece of the puzzle that she was dropping into place. Her eyes never left him. None of this would make sense to the whore before them, but the two elder figures understood every word.

He looked at her. "What do you think Florentine? This is all the proof I can offer you, a bastard with black hair and storm bred eyes." He gestured to the child.

There was a commotion outside and Littefinger darted to the window. He looked down and grinned. Without turning back around he spoke to Flowers. She watched him and saw his body visibly relax, this was a bad thing for her. It could only mean that trouble was ahead for her.

"It would appear as if your honorable Lord has come into trouble. Imagine that."

He didn't need to look back to see her run away. He loved it when the fox ran. Especially from him.

She down stair after stair, her shoes flying from under her hems. She was fast as she darted down the stairs, narrowly missing every human along the way. She didn't notice a single face that passed by but they all recognized her. They whispered and wondered why she was running after Eddard Stark in a brothel owned by Ser Littlefinger. They wondered why the bastard and Northman were there at all!

She didn't care to hear the whispers either. Those she heard a constant stream of. Nothing mattered more than finding Stark now though, nothing. Not even Sandor could stop her. That damned fool thought he could claim her. Well let him. She'd make it worth his while.

The door flew open in front of her and she stumbled upon the raid of Jaime Lannister. Baelish came out behind her. He went passed her and looked to Jaime.

'What is the meaning of this Lannister?" He demanded.

Flowers to stand beside Ned and he looked to her with a shocked expression. She looked up into his handsome face ad nodded. Her eyes went to stare at her very own cousin. He wasn't pleased to find her there, with Stark.

"What are you doing here Florentine?" He questioned.

She didn't like his tone, as if she were a child. Her gaze was hard as she stared back at him. Nothing needed to be said and she didn't feel like saying much. Her silence was word enough, still she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Without a care, she spoke to him.

"I came to assist Lord Stark. It is my duty to do so." Her voice was strong and noble.

Her cousin frowned. "Step back and I'll deal with you later. This is between me and him," he looked at the wolf.

Ned turned to her and nodded. "Flowers he's right. I don't want you getting hurt." He looked to Jaime.

"He won't hurt me Ned," she insisted. "He won't."

"Please? For me," he asked her.

She relented and stepped back.

Jaime asked about Tyrion. She should have known. It was Catelyn who took her beloved imp and here she was, standing for the Lady's husband. It was all twisted and she felt tangled deeper than she ever had before. She had been in close calls in Essos, but that was when she was young, she could afford those mistakes. Now she couldn't. Tyrion was her family, with this she was obligated to be on the Lannister side.

"Yes, they took him on my orders!" he announced.

Before the brother could react, the bastard did before him.

Her eyes grew wide. "What?! Ned you-" She stormed to him and he caught her in his arms. The look he gave her wasn't the same man she had seen moments before.

"Flowers." It was all he had to say.

"You betrayed me! You took my kindness for weakness and kidnapped my cousin! Release me of my vow," she knew he wasn't telling the truth, but it needed to be done. Her eyes asked him to forgive her, pleading with him.

He nodded. "I release you." He whispered so only she heard.

Jaime cocked his head, he couldn't hear what they said but he saw her discomfort. She began mumbling obscenities and apologies to him. Struggling out of his grasp. She was creating a scene and he went along. Gently, yet appearing firm, he grabbed her.

The young lion drew his sword, his men with him. "Let her go Stark! You took my brother and I will seek revenge for him. But my cousin you will release now."

Eddard looked from bastard to Jaime and then stared at her. She looked back sadly, speaking silently to him. Hoping he would know what she said. He seemed to, at least to her he did, and nodded slightly.

"Run back to your family." He all but threw her towards Jaime.

Littlefinger had seen enough and ran off to fetch the Watch. Flowers detested his judgment. She wanted nothing more than to stab him then. Even she knew that with the enemy, she was safe. Besides that, she trusted Ned's judgment, even now. Jaime took her by the arm and dragged her back.

"I don't know what you're doing her but this is unbecoming for a lady in your position." He whispered. His fingers ground into her muscle, hard and angry.

One of her eyes twitched. "Jaime this isn't right. You know there's been a mistake. A misunderstanding." She spoke with a faint laugh to her voice. It made her sound weasely and even to her, the excuse was weak.

He shook his head. "No Flowers You'd best stay with behind the line if you wish to remain intact." He left her and turned away. Before leaving he looked back. "We are cousins Florentine, and I know you're very close to Tyrion. I want him back and I know you do too."

He began walking away. She reached out to him.

"Don't hurt him!"

He didn't respond. His white cloak swayed by his ankles. She came to detest the color white, and white cloaks, at an early age. She watched intently as words were thrown. Beric was about to leap at the chance to fight.

Even Florentine was subject to listening to Jaime threaten Ned. She feared for him with every rising moment and stepped forward to intervene, one of the Lannister men held her back. She growled in her throat and scowled at him. Looking back she saw the men continue to talk and she hated it. The tension was going to break, and it did.

Jaime's men struck first, spearing Ned's men. Florentine gasped and jumped at the bloodshed. She was thrown against a wall s the fighting began and Lannister men massacred Stark men. Flowers didn't dare intervene, with no means to fight nor protect, she would be killed out there. What use would she be to anyone dead?

The fox didn't want anyone to die, no more of the Stark men. When Beric went up against Jaime, she couldn't help but gasp as the Lion plunged a dagger into the guard's eye. Killing him. Her hand covered her mouth. He fell, Ned stared. This was what changed their fight, pitting Eddard Stark against Jaime

Her eyes were stuck on the two men fighting. She didn't even see the rest of the scrimmage. Ned and Jaime, two of Westeros' strongest fighters. Terrified, enthralled, like the rest of the Lannister men, she could only watch. It wasn't helped that one of the guards held her against him. She tried to step away but he merely shoved her back against him.

Ned stumbled back! She breathed, it seemed he would be alright, until another man stepped forward. He stabbed Ned clean through his leg. She screamed and her fist flew back into the eye of her captor. Catching him off guard, he screamed and let her go. She yanked forward and darted to her Stark's side.

"Ned!" She called. He was too much in pain to hear her. "Ned, Ned listen to me. I'm here, listen to my voice. I'm going to get help, I'm going! I'll return for you!" She tried to console him and assess his wounds.

Jaime staggered back and looked at what his guard had done. He was more disappointed that he hadn't done it himself. He took in the scene and what his cousin was saying. With a shake of his gorgeous blonde hair, he stalked forward and stooped down to grab her.

"Come now Florentine," he chided her in a hard tone. "Time to go. It won't do have you seen."

"Fuck appearances Jaime!" She shouted. "Ned is injured!"

He groaned in frustration and started pulling her away. She fought him, kicking and screaming. Screaming for Ned. Her cousin spun her to face him and he shook her. She paused in her mad ranting to look at him, violet eyes blazing. They took him by surprise and he stopped for a moment.

"Cersie will make sure you are counted on treason and have you imprisoned if words of this gets out. You will be in a lot of danger and I can people to make sure no one speaks." His reasoning was sound, even to her. "But you must come now."

She let him pull her forward and put her on his horse behind him. She held onto him as they left Ned behind. She beat Jaime on the shoulders and he let her.

"Damn you Jaime! By the Gods I swear you'll feel my wrath for this! You foolish bastard."

"Even you can't so stupid as to think this isn't for your own safety. Ned would want it as well as Robert."

Her stare looked back to him. Sadness, regret, fear, they lingered. Her head nodded and the wolf fell to the ground.

"You will feel pain Jaime." She grabbed his right arm and squeezed. "Some day something you love with leave you."

He scoffed at her foretelling and rode on.

"We are your family Flowers, not him. You adore Tyrion and he is the one who took him! Trust me and shut up."

A rude snort of a laugh came out. "And you are supposed to be guarding King Robert himself. Where is he in all this is he is here?"

The lion was quiet.

"Aaah, no answer for your dear cousin." Her words dripped with malice. "Imagine that."

"The King is never anywhere he should be. By the time he finds Eddard you won't have to worry for either. Be grateful I didn't kill him there."

"If you can't depend on the king you put on the throne, why did you put him there?" She asked him, not bothering to look back.

---

Duncan was out on the grand terrace. He was admiring the sweep of marble laid down hundreds of years before. His eyes were open wide, caught in the sun, flaring into a light brown. The breeze ruffled his shaggy hair. Ryden strode out with his hands clasped behind his back. He went forward and looked at what Duncan did.

"This is a nice change from the sea cottage we usually stay," Duncan said. He was referring to the cottage that the king had her and her entourage stay in for years. There was nothing wrong with it, it was a pleasant place. Farther from the castle and thus Joffery.

"We've lived many places. Remember all those grand places in Essos?" He smiled.

The younger man nodded. "Yes, very well. I must say, I like Dornish buildings the most. Something in their openness is so. . .inviting." He ran his hand on the stone balustrade, his smile became thoughtful. "Not like here." His forehead ceased in thought. "Why did we go across the Narrow seas? I'm sure not all of Westeros was in war. Places in the Reach would have been safe enough."

He turned to the younger man. "You don't know why we left, do you?" He was astonished that the truth had never been told.

The Oldflowers looked at him. "We left because of the Rebellion."

The Measter stared at him with a stony look. "King Aerys believed that she was of Dayne decent." The younger knew whom he meant. "He knew she was of Florent. In his madness he decided that he should take her for hostage to secure Dayne loyalty and to gain that of the Florents."

Duncan gasped. ". . .if the King himself believed so firmly she was one of them."

"This is what I believe, some reason to his madness. In the end I took us away with the Spider's help. He has also been with us, seeing her potential at a young age to secure ties with the royal family. Robert thinks similarly, but not."

Duncan took a moment to think. His mind raced to catch onto what Ryden was trying to tell him without actually saying it. He slowly came to it.

"He thought like us, and wanted to keep her for his own gain. But he believes she is of. . .Targaryen?"

Ryden nodded slowly.

"And is that why now, of all our visits to the Capitol, he has us put up in apartments inside the castle. We always have a guest house by the shores."

"With the discovery of the Targaryen children, Viserys and his sister, his belief has rekindled and she is more valuable to him here."

Duncan was dumbfounded. "Then who is she?"

Ryden shrugged. "She is Florent, and related by blood to none other than Robert Baratheon." He lowered his voice. "Why do you think Robert didn't have her killed if he believed these rumors?

He shook his head.

"Control. The younger Targaryen children, they were out of his reach, direct descendents of the Mad King. They must be killed, but she was new breed. He could trust that parentage, himself even fathered a Florent bastard. He felt sympathy, and control. He could raise her and mold her to be whatever he wanted to. He keeps her fed and happy so that she will give him more. And she does, fully aware of all of this."

The Oldflower sat back in his chair and stared out of the opened terrace doors. "She is his prisoner."

"She has always been a prisoner. Better the captive of someone she loves, than that of someone she fears."

He laughed, "Flowers doesn't genuinely fear many."

"Neither does she love many. Robert is truly the closest to family she has. We are her family, but they share blood."

"This is why the lioness hates the fox?"

"The Old Lion as well," he nodded. "Everything Florentine needs and receives comes with a double side. It's a blessing to be in such high favor with the king, but dangerous and she lives that danger," Ryden sighed and leaned back. He took a sip of her wine to ease his nerves. He wasn't your typical Maester. He had had to do things to protect the Fox, things he had to live with. Secrets he had to hide.

The door burst open and Florentine rushed in. She was flushed and out of breath as if she had been running.

"Floren what happened?" Ryden asked. He looked over her in surprise.

She breathed hard but waited for no one. "Where is Robert?!" She shouted. "We need to find him!" She suddenly turned and ran from the room. The men gave chase.

She darted round the corner, in the direction of Robert's rooms.

"With Jaime gone he will be free to me!" She explained. "Ned has been captured, there's no time to fucking speak!" She gasped for breath and prayed to the Gods that Robert was there.