"All hail His Grace, Eddison, of House Tolett, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm" cried the herald, as Edd steeled himself for the long climb up to the Iron Throne. "All hail Her Grace, Tasha, of House…" There was a pause as the Herald desperately tried to remember his Wildling queen's clan, "of-of House Black Moon, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Princess Beyond the Wall."

Tash leaned over to her husband once they had taken their seats, "When exactly was I made the 'Princess Beyond the Wall'?" she asked.

"Oh, sometime in the last week. I'm not sure really, but I thought it sounded nice" replied her husband. "Of course, all you've got to reign over is ice and a few lost sheep, but it's better than being a Princess of the Fingers, all they reign over there is the sheep shit."

Queen Tasha smirked at the slight and had a quick look around to see if Petyr Balish was anywhere to be seen. As she did, Edd leaned over again, "Are you ready to play some cyvasse?" Buggering Hells, the first move they make is to bring in the bloody elephant. Without missing a beat, he sat straight and looked sternly onto the first petitioner, "What is it that you wish to ask the court?"

The man he stared down upon was huge, and Edd thought he strongly resembled a particularly tasteless block of lard he once ate, mistaking it for cheese – even the smell was right, as the man's sweaty odour drifted up to do battle with the king's olfactory senses.

"Your Gr- Grace." The lard-man stammered as he attempted to make a courtly bow, but was rather restricted by his ballooning stomach. "I come to ask for…for the p-p-pardon of m-my boy, my boy."

Edd sighed, he had been suffering these pathetic wailings for days now. A month back a brigand of outlaws, exiles from Dondarrion's former group had been captured in a remote town in the Vale. They had been raping murdering anything that could squeal, taking whatever caught their sight, leaving nothing of value. The band was due to be hung upon the moon's turn. None had been granted mercy.

Edd steepled his fingers and examined the man. His hair was coarse and patchy, scabs covered his bald spots – Edd reckoned he could see ticks frolicking about on his scalp. His robe was thread bare and his leather shoes were as thick as his own skin. How does a man so impoverished manage to retain a belt that would be too large my damn horse? There's not many men that can compete with a belly like that. Edd coughed and metally corrected himself, not many whales that can compete with a belly like that…

The king realised that he had been silent for a while now, and the man had begun to perspire profusely. "Good…" Edd paused, wondering how to address the leviathan-turned-man, "Good ser, do you know why your boy is in my Black Cells?"

The man hung his head, "Yes, Your Grace." He muttered.

"So you can see that it would be frankly wrong to free him?"

"M'lord…Your Grace Ser, but it wasn't him that thought it, see. He was always in with the bad lot, even as a boy I'd say Palen, don't you go mixin' with that lot, they be getting you into all sorts of trouble. Not that he'd ever listen, but he never thought of the bad things they'd done, that would be the blacksmith's boy, like when he got that calf an' he – "

"Yes I think we all understand where you're going," said Tasha, who was clearly keen to end the man's fevered blathering, "You're son, who wasn't really bad, did some bad things because he was too thick to think of anything better to do with his pathetic life, yes?"

Eddison sat a little straighter on the throne, earning himself a prick on an unfortunate elbow and muttered to her, "Well, normally we hold a little more decorum in court but – " He stopped and looked at the fat man. The whale had made no outcry or protest at his wife's curt interruption; instead he had his little greedy eyes fixated on her. His lecherous eyes were staring at her waist, her breasts, her neck, her lips, and his tongue began to protrude from his fat lips as he worked his way up and down her body. He made now effort to hide his lust, and the court began to murmur behind gloved hands. Damn him! Damn him to the Seven Hells, you sick bastard, thinking of nothing but how you'd like to stick your fat cock into Tash! "Out!" Edd cried, "All of you, get out now!" He strode down the steps faster and faster until he was inches from the fat man and his stench. "You, if you ever want to see your son, it will be as you're both led up the hangman's galley!" the king roared. The man made a grimace and waddled away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The hall was empty; motes of dust fell silently onto the patches where the lords and ladies had stood moments ago. A horse whinnied from the lists as some underserving knight or other trained at tilting. Edd turned, his breathing ragged. The king was known to dislike many things, the sun, the rain, weather in general, prunes (much to the disappointment of the cooks he had them outlawed in the Red Keep), thornes – both the plant and people varieties, but Tash was another matter entirely. Oh, he knew she could handle herself, but to think that any man would ever want to harm her cut into him much deeper than the Iron Throne did. He heard a faint patter of footsteps, and turning watched her hurry down the steps to him.

"Never knew you to get that lairy with no one before," Tasha said, crossing her arms she began to examine one of her nails.

"Well, he was…" Eddison began, but tailed off when he saw the fire in her eyes.

"I know what that bastard was doing, Edd. Do you think we didn't get that when we was in the North? Or on your bloody Wall?" Tasha looked at her husband and cupped his face in her hands, "I love you, yer bloody kneeler, but you cannae just clear court because men can't take their minds off their cocks for one minute," she said softly, pausing to give him a lingering kiss, "I can fend for meself, you've got a whole bleein' realm to look after."

Eddison buried his face in Tasha's hair and kissed her neck, "I know, Tash, but this court don't mean nought to me, if all it is, is sodding gits paying more attention to your chest than whatever the hell they came here for. I ain't got no patience for them bastards, you are the only thing that proper matters." The couple broke apart, and after a moment's hesitation embraced once more, their arms wrapped tight around each other as if letting go would spell the end of the entire world.

"Eddison Tolett?"

"Mmph?"

"Fuck 'em, fuck this court, fuck this city."

"Well I'd rather not, I'd probably end up with more diseases then my ma did at the end."

"Shut up you gibbering sod, I'm gonna be taking you huntin'. Proper huntin', like we's used to."

"And be 'we's' I suppose you mean…"

"Wildling style."