"Tell me, Ser Haymend," Tyrion began, taking a step closer and raising his wine glass to his lips. "What brings you to King's Landing?"
Haymend took a moment to take a sip of his wine, savoring the rich taste before he replied. "I had come to visit, My Lord. I have never been to King's Landing before, and I must say, the stories I heard about this city do not do it justice. I must say I haven't seen anything as spectacular since Lys." The dwarf raised a brow, a hint of wonder in his voice.Tyrion's curiosity was piqued.
"Lys? As in Essos?"
"Yes, My Lord Hand. I was born in Lys. It was only through the grace of my good grandparents that I was able to come to Westeros. They gave me the name Haymend, as well as bestowed the Hightower name upon me."
Tyrion was impressed. "That is a very fortunate turn of events for you."
Haymend nodded. "I couldn't agree more, My Lord. Many others would never have had the opportunity to leave their birthplace and see the world."
Tyrion was still curious. "If I might ask, what was your birth name?"
Haymend hesitated for a moment before he replied. "Vargo Ormollen was the name my father gave me, but Haymend suits me better. It is a name that has brought me great opportunities and good fortune."
Tyrion looked at Haymend's pale hand and commented, "Given your appearance, I would never have guessed you came from Essos."
Haymend looked at his hand and chuckled. "Yes, the milder climates of Westeros have lightened my skin a bit, but during the high heat of summer, my skin does return to its more olive tone."
Tyrion smiled, raising his glass once more. "Well, I'm glad you made the journey to King's Landing, Ser Haymend. It is always a pleasure to meet someone from a different part of the world."
"I've also heard that you arrived in King's Landing as a guest of the Tyrells?" Tyrion asked.
Haymend took a sip of his wine, considering the question before answering.
"It was indeed a fortunate turn of events. I was on my way to King's Landing, eager to explore this great city and experience its grandeur firsthand. However, as fate would have it, I became the victim of theft. A common thief made off with my horse and all of my belongings, leaving me stranded and in dire need of assistance. That was when I had the good fortune to cross paths with my distant cousins, the Tyrells. They were traveling to King's Landing themselves and, upon learning of my predicament, they kindly offered to take me under their wing and bring me along as their guest."
Haymend smiled at the memory, still grateful for the kindness of the Tyrells. "It was a stroke of luck, truly. Had I not met up with them, who knows what would have become of me? I am grateful for their generosity and for the opportunity to be here in King's Landing, experiencing all that this city has to offer."
"My good man," Tyrion said with a quizzical expression, "it seems fortune has smiled upon you."
"Indeed," Haymend replied coolly.
"Alas, my wine cup is empty," the Imp observed, glancing around for a servant.
But before a refill could be procured, Haymend cast a brief gaze upon the cup, and suddenly it was brimming with a rich, red vintage.
Tyrion's eyebrows rose in surprise as he regarded the half-filled goblet in his hand.
"Pardon me, but I could have sworn this cup was empty but a moment ago, am I drunk already?" he asked, a note of confusion in his voice.
He took a sip, then looked back to Haymend. "So, tell me, are you finding the gathering to your liking?"
"I will admit, the king was right about it being a bore," Haymend said.
"Aye, these courtly gatherings can often lack excitement," Tyrion agreed. "But they serve a purpose, they allow us to observe the players in the game and make the necessary moves to ensure our survival."
Haymend nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It is indeed a game, where the stakes are high and one misstep could mean the end."
"Indeed," Tyrion said, taking a sip of his wine. "Which is why it is always wise to have a trump card, something that sets you apart from the rest."
Haymend raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "And what, pray to tell, might that trump card be for you, my Lord Hand?"
Tyrion smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Why, my wit and intellect, of course. Though, having friends in high places never hurts either."
"It's true," Haymend admitted, "Aside from my family, I don't have any friends in high places. I've had to work hard to achieve my goals, relying solely on my cunning and determination."
Tyrion nodded thoughtfully, "It's commendable that you've been able to succeed without the aid of powerful allies. Navigating the political waters of a court like this one can be treacherous, but it takes a certain type of courage to face those challenges on your own."
Haymend smiled wryly, "Sometimes I do wonder what life would have been like with friends in high places to help me along the way, but I've learned to rely on myself."
Tyrion concurred, "Having allies in court can certainly be advantageous, but it's important to remember that even the closest of allies can turn on you at a moment's notice. It's always best to be self-reliant and rely on one's wits."
The two men shared a moment of understanding, nodding in agreement as they continued their conversation amidst the buzz of activity and laughter from the other guests at the gathering.
"I must say though, be very careful with King Joffrey," Tyrion warned, his eyes shining with amusement. "Your jests seem to have ruffled his feathers, and laughing at his fall...Well, let's just say you should keep your eyes open." Haymend chuckled, taking a slow sip of wine.
"I'm not one to be intimidated easily," He replied, his voice steady and confident. "I'm no more afraid of a little boy playing at being King than I am of a mouse scurrying about."
Tyrion raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Bold, Ser. Very bold. But you must understand, Joffrey may be young, but he has the backing of the Lannister army, and the influence of his mother, the Queen Regent. He is not to be taken lightly."
Haymend took a thoughtful sip of his wine, considering Tyrion's words.
"I understand the danger, but I also know the value of not appearing to be intimidated. A show of strength can often deter would-be attackers, just as much as actual strength can."
Tyrion nodded, "You have a point, Ser. But do be cautious, the court is a dangerous place, and alliances can shift quickly, especially where the Lannisters are concerned."
Haymend gave a small, wry smile, "I won't let fear control my actions. I will continue to speak my mind, and let the consequences be what they may be."
Tyrion nodded, a glint of respect in his eyes, "Well said, Ser. Well said."
"Ah, I must tend to some business matters," Tyrion said as he stood up from his seat. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Haymend. I wouldn't mind having another conversation with you sometime soon."
Haymend nodded, "I would be happy to chat with you again, Lord Tyrion. Good luck with your business, I'm sure you'll handle it with your usual flair."
Tyrion gave a small bow and made his way out of the room, his thoughts already on the task at hand. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as he thought about leaving Haymend behind. The man was an enigma, and Tyrion couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to him than met the eye.
As he walked down the halls, Tyrion made a mental note to keep an eye on Haymend in the future. Something was intriguing about the man, and he wanted to uncover what it was. But for now, he had business to attend to, and he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.
Haymend approached Margaery, who was standing amidst a throng of guests, deep in conversation with one of the lords from the Reach. As he approached, he could see that Margaery kept glancing at him, almost as if she were signaling for him to come over. Haymend obliged, deftly making his way through the crowd until he finally arrived at her side.
"I was beginning to notice your long disappearance, cousin," Margaery said with a smirk. "Imagine my surprise when I looked over and found you deep in conversation with the Hand of the King himself."
"Yes, he is quite the interesting fellow," Haymend replied, taking a sip from his cup of wine.
"And how are your endeavors going?" Margaery asked, her curiosity piqued.
"They're going quite well, actually," Haymend said with a confident smile. "I believe I've made a good impression on the Hand and soon I'll have another opportunity to meet with him."
"Well done, Haymend," Margaery said, taking the cup of wine from her cousin's hand and taking a sip. "You always have been one for making the most of your opportunities."
"And what about you, Margaery?" Haymend asked, noticing the slight eye roll she gave. "How is your endeavor with King Joffrey progressing?"
"He's an annoying boy, to say the least," Margaery whispered, casting a furtive glance around the room to make sure they weren't overheard. "But I've learned to play along with his games and to keep him entertained. It's a delicate dance, but one that must be performed if I want to achieve my goals."
"Yes, I can imagine," Haymend said, chuckling. "Still, there's always the chance for a chandelier to fall."
Margaery shook her head, her expression serious. "No, not yet, Haymend. But I have a feeling that day may come sooner than we think. In the meantime, I'll keep playing the game and biding my time."
The two of them continued their conversation for a while longer, discussing the intricacies of life at court and the challenges that came with navigating the political waters of King's Landing.
Haymend's attention was quickly drawn to the far end of the room, where the queen regent, Cersei Lannister, made her grand entrance. Her beauty was undeniable, with golden locks of hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of shimmering gold. She was dressed in a rich and elegant red dress that flowed behind her with each step she took, accentuating her curves and highlighting her status as royalty. The two knights following her were just as impressive, with their golden capes and shiny armor that reflected the candlelight of the room, making them appear as glowing guardians.
Margaery, noticing Haymend's gaze, leaned in closer to him. "Cersei is quite the sight, isn't she?" she whispered with a smirk. "It's no wonder you have your sights set on her. But be careful, the Lannisters are not to be underestimated." Haymend nodded
"I know, but I cannot help but be drawn to her. She is a true embodiment of beauty and grace, and I find myself captivated by her every time I see her."
"Well then, let's hope she feels the same," Margaery said, offering him a small smile. "But for now, let us enjoy the evening and all its festivities. Who knows what opportunities the night may bring."
With that, Haymend and Margaery turned their attention back to the celebration, all the while keeping an eye on Cersei as she made her way through the room, greeting guests and basking in the attention that came with her title and status.
As Cersei made her way over to Haymend and Margaery, she shot a pointed look at the latter, not hiding her disdain for the young Tyrell woman.
"Margaery," she said, her voice filled with mock sweetness, "how wonderful it is to see you again. I hear your upcoming nuptials with my son, Joffrey will be within a month"
Margaery smiled politely, not rising to the bait. "Yes, I am honored to be marrying such a strong and noble ruler," she said calmly.
Cersei snorted. "Yes, Joffrey is quite the catch," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I do hope you are ready for the responsibilities that come with being a queen."
Margaery's smile didn't falter. "I am more than prepared, Your Grace," she replied.
Haymend watched the exchange, feeling a mixture of amusement and admiration for Margaery's poise and grace. He could see why Cersei felt threatened by the younger woman, but he also saw the cunning intelligence behind her eyes. It was clear that Margaery was not one to be underestimated.
Cersei's gaze turned to Haymend with a curious expression on her face. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of an introduction," she said, looking at Haymend. "You're from House Hightower, I presume?"
"Yes, my lady," Haymend replied, bowing respectfully, gently taking one if Cersei's hands into his own and bringing his lips to the back of her hand. "Haymend of Hightower, at your service."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Haymend," Cersei said with a slight smile, removing her hand from his grasp. "I've heard much of the Hightowers, they have a long and storied history in Westeros."
"Indeed they do, my lady," Haymend said. "I'm honored to be a part of such a prestigious house."
"And you're here in King's Landing with your cousin, Margaery?" Cersei asked, turning to the young Tyrell woman.
"Yes, my lady," Margaery replied. "Haymend has kindly accompanied me on my journey to marry your son, King Joffrey."
"Ah, yes," Cersei said, her eyes flicking briefly to Haymend. "And what brings you to King's Landing, Haymend?"
"I'm here to pay my respects to King Joffrey and the Lannister family, of course," Haymend said smoothly. "And to offer my support to my cousin as she enters this new chapter in her life."
"That's very considerate of you, Haymend," Cersei said, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "But I sense there may be more to it than that."
Haymend met Cersei's gaze, his expression unreadable. "There's always more to everything, my lady," he said. "But I assure you, my intentions are pure."
Cersei raised an eyebrow, studying Haymend for a moment before nodding slowly. "I'm sure they are," she said, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Haymend. I'm sure our paths will cross again."
"The pleasure was mine, my lady," Haymend said, bowing again as Cersei turned and walked away, surrounded by her guards.
Margaery looked at Haymend with a mixture of amusement and pride. "You handled yourself well," she said. "Cersei can be quite intimidating."
"She's a powerful woman," Haymend said. "But I'm not easily intimidated."
"Good," Margaery said with a smile. "Because you'll need all your wit and cunning if you hope to win her over."
Haymend of Hightower had reached the end of a long and exhausting day. He yearned for nothing more than to retreat to the solace of his room and escape into the void, where he could bask in peace. As he made his way to the door of his temporary quarters, he noticed a slight discrepancy - the door was ever so slightly ajar. This was unexpected, as Haymend always took great care to keep his door firmly shut. Perhaps someone was playing a game with him, trying to surprise him in some way. However, if that were the case, they were doing a poor job of hiding their intentions. Haymend decided to confront the matter head-on and pushed open the door to his room.
As he stepped inside, he was greeted by a most unexpected sight. The once cold and lifeless fireplace was now crackling with warmth and light, casting shadows upon the walls. And, to his surprise, a stranger was seated in the chair by the bed, watching him with a measured gaze. The man was dressed in silver robes, and his head was bald and shining. Haymend had seen glimpses of this enigmatic figure before but had not had the opportunity to learn his name.
"Who are you?" Haymend asked, his voice steady and strong. The stranger stood from his chair, his movements slow and graceful.
"Forgive me for intruding upon you at such a late hour, my lord," the stranger replied in a soft and melodic voice. "My name is Varys."
"Ah, Lord Varys," Haymend greeted, recognizing the man in silver robes as a member of the small council. He approached the table where two mugs and a bottle of wine sat waiting and began to pour a mug for his unexpected guest. "What brings you to my chambers this evening?"
Varys took the proffered mug and cradled it in his hands, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have heard the word, Ser Haymend, of your conversation with Lady Sansa Stark in one of the gardens earlier today."
Haymend couldn't help but let a smirk and an eye roll escape his otherwise stoic expression. "Yes, she just happened to be in the garden I was visiting," he replied nonchalantly.
Varys cocked his head slightly, studying Haymend's demeanor. "Lady Sansa is known to spend a great deal of time in that particular garden, as well as in the god's wood," he said thoughtfully. "Do you know why she frequents that location so often, Ser Haymend?"
Haymend took a sip of his wine before answering. "I assume it has something to do with the flower she fancies," he said simply.
Varys nodded, taking a sip from his mug. "Indeed, Lady Sansa has a fondness for the rose. She has been known to spend hours tending to the flowers and observing their growth. It is a small detail, but one that reveals much about her character." The eunuch's eyes sparkled with amusement and Haymend couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease under the man's intense gaze.
As the silence lingered between them, Haymend couldn't help but wonder what Lord Varys was after. The man was known for his web of spies and the information he collected, so what could he possibly want with a simple conversation about Sansa Stark and her love for flowers?
"Lord Varys, with all due respect, I must ask, why have you come here tonight?" Haymend said, his tone of voice now more serious. "I find it strange that you would break into my room and bring up such trivial matters."
"It may seem trivial to you, my lord," Varys replied, his eyes focused intently on Haymend. "But I assure you, how events are perceived can be just as important as the events themselves. Your conversation with Lady Stark, as well as your argument with King Joffrey, have not gone unnoticed."
Haymend raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And why, exactly, should I be concerned with what others may think of me?"
"Because, my lord," Varys continued, "it is well known that King Joffrey has not treated Lady Stark kindly, and if the wrong people were to connect your conversation with her and your argument with the King, they may see it as a sign of treason."
Haymend let out a small chuckle. "You are suggesting that I am plotting against the crown because I had a brief conversation with a girl about a flower and had a heated discussion with the King?"
Varys simply nodded, his expression serious.
"And you, Lord Varys, are the right person to hear about these incidents?" Haymend asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Am I to grovel at your feet and beg for your silence?"
"Of course not, my lord," Varys replied calmly. "I merely came here to make you aware of the situation and to offer my advice."
"What advice could that be?"
"Well," Varys said, setting down his wine mug and leaning forward slightly. "It would be wise for you to be cautious about your actions and the company you keep. People are quick to jump to conclusions and rumors can spread like wildfire. It would behoove you to consider the potential consequences of your actions, especially when it comes to someone as controversial as the young Sansa Stark."
Varys' piercing gaze met Haymend's, his eyes searching for any sign of understanding. "Do not misunderstand me, I have no intention of spreading rumors or causing any harm to you. I am simply offering you my advice as a friend, one who has lived a long life and seen the many pitfalls and dangers of court life. So I implore you to think carefully before you take any further actions that may put your position in jeopardy."
Haymend listened attentively to Varys' words, taking in the gravity of the situation. He knew that Varys was a man who was not to be trifled with, and his advice was not to be taken lightly. Haymend took a deep breath and let out a slow sigh, pondering over the implications of what Varys had just told him.
"I understand, Lord Varys. I will keep your words in mind and be cautious in the future. Thank you for your advice."
Haymend approached his door, his hand slowly reaching for the handle.
"It's been a tiring day, Lord Varys," he said, "and I would appreciate some peace to rest. If you don't mind." With a gentle tug, Haymend opened the door and stood back, gesturing for Varys to step out. The eunuch didn't waste any time, quickly making his way through the doorway and out into the hallway beyond. Haymend let out a sigh of relief as he watched Varys disappear into the shadows, glad to have the strange conversation behind him. He turned back to his room and closed the door.
Haymend made his way back to his bed, feeling the weight of the day slowly slipping away. With a snap of his fingers, his clothing neatly folded and placed itself into a nearby dresser, as if it were a mere afterthought. He settled into the comfort of his bed, feeling the cool sheets against his skin, and closed his eyes.
Haymend felt his essence leaving his physical form and returning to the vastness of deep space. The darkness of space was awe-inspiring, a never-ending void filled with countless stars and swirling nebulas, each one a testament to the grandeur of the universe. It was a place where time had no meaning and the only constant was the rhythmic dance of the stars.
The colors of the nebulas were a magnificent display of pinks, purples, blues, and greens, all swirling together in a mesmerizing display of cosmic beauty.
Haymend felt the familiar sensation of his spirit being pulled by the gravitational pull of the stars, their immense power drawing him into their embrace. The stars pulsed with energy, each one a living, breathing entity, and he felt their ancient wisdom wash over him, filling him with a sense of peace. This was where he truly belonged.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting its dim light across the Red Keep, illuminating the towering walls of the fortress. The air was heavy with the sound of silence, broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of leaves in the wind.
A mysterious figure crept along the shadows, his movements silent as he hugged the wall of the Keep. He wore a dark cloak that fluttered behind him, obscuring his form in the darkness. The man's face was hidden beneath the hood, leaving only his piercing eyes visible, gleaming like diamonds in the night.
He moved with purpose, his steps quick and assured, making his way through the deserted courtyard towards the grand entrance of the Keep. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he advanced toward the guards, who were patrolling the entrance.
He slipped past the watchful guards with ease, making his way deeper into the heart of the Keep. The corridors were quiet and empty, and the man moved swiftly through the shadows, His footfalls were barely audible, and he remained alert to any sound or movement around him. He slipped past guards and patrols, evading detection with expert precision. His senses were sharp, and he scanned his surroundings for any hint of danger.
The man moved with purpose towards his target's chambers, his footsteps light and graceful. As he neared the door, he slowed his movements down, aware that any misstep could alert the guards. He took a deep breath and approached the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob.
Gingerly, he turned the handle, wincing slightly as the metal squeaked in protest. The door creaked open, and he peered into the dimly lit room. The only source of light was a dying fire in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the chamber.
The man's gaze settled on the sleeping figure in the bed, shrouded in the darkness of the night. The nobleman lay there, completely unaware that this was to be his final night.
The man's heart raced with excitement as he drew his blade, a simple short knife freshly sharpened before he left. The metal glinted in the dim light of the room as he slowly made his way toward the bed.
As he stood over the sleeping nobleman, he couldn't help but think about the hefty sum of gold waiting for him once his mission was complete. He imagined the luxurious life he could lead with such a fortune, the thought only fueling his determination to see the job through.
Who wanted this noble dead or why was unknown to the man. All he knew was that he would be paid to do the deed, and he was not one to question the motives of his clients. He was an assassin, and his loyalty was only to the coin.
Haymend of Hightower, the man thought with a sneer. Whoever he was, he had upset the wrong people. The man moved slowly, his breaths shallow and calculated. He closed the distance between himself and the sleeping noble, he raised his blade to Haymend's throat
But as he went to slice the nobleman's neck, something strange happened. His hands, once steady and sure, were suddenly unable to move. No matter how much he struggled and strained, he found himself frozen in place.
The nobleman opened his eyes, and the man found himself staring into the depths of a void. There was no fear or confusion in Haymend's eyes, only an empty darkness that seemed to swallow up everything around it.
The man tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. The only sound was the beating of his own heart, pounding in his ears as he stared into those soulless eyes.
For a moment, the two men remained locked in a silent standoff, neither one moving or speaking. The man's mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Was this some sort of magic, or had he simply lost his nerve at the last moment?
He wanted to turn and run, to flee the room and forget this ever happened. But he was still frozen in place, unable to move or even think clearly.
As the moments ticked by, the man felt the weight of the nobleman's gaze bearing down on him. It was as if he was being swallowed up by the darkness in Haymend's eyes, pulled down into an abyss of fear and uncertainty.
Finally, with a sudden burst of movement, the nobleman rose from the bed and grabbed the man by the wrist. The man tried to struggle, but he found himself powerless against the nobleman's strength.
Haymend's voice was cold and steady, causing the assassin to shiver even more. "Who are you?" he asked.
The man, who had been so confident before, was now shaking with fear as he answered, "Colin."
"And who sent you?"
"I don't know his name," Colin replied quickly. "He just said to kill you and go to the Mead Pit in Flea Bottom for my reward."
Haymend nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Describe him."
Colin hesitated, his mind racing to remember any detail that could be useful. "He was a short man, bald with a scar over his left eye," he finally whispered.
Haymend didn't say anything more, but simply looked at Colin with those empty eyes. It was a silence that made the assassin feel as if he was drowning in his own fear.
As soon as Haymend released his grip, the assassin felt an unsettling energy emanating from the noble. Suddenly, the air grew colder and an eerie silence filled the room. The man's breath became visible in the dim light
The floor beneath the assassin began to writhe and move like a living thing, as if it were an enormous creature made of stone. The man felt a sudden, gut-wrenching sensation as the floor began to consume him, pulling him down into its depths. The stone seemed to be alive, hungry for his flesh and soul. The man tried to scream, but his voice was swallowed up by the darkness.
As the assassin sank deeper and deeper into the floor, he looked up to see Haymend's face twisted into a maniacal grin, a look of pure delight in his eyes. The assassin felt his body being crushed and pulled apart, the pain almost too much to bear. In his final moments, he saw Haymend's face looming over him like a demon from the depths of hell.
And then, the man was gone. Swallowed up by the living stone, never to be seen or heard from again.
