Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire.
Another dragon, another wolf, another stag
Chapter 32: Jon
"Talking"
"Thinking"
(Location: King's Landing)
Jon awoke one morning and found that he was getting used to being in King's Landing. He found it upsetting. He didn't want to be here but he found himself thinking less of Winterfell and the North as time went on. It was like he was beginning to accept that he would never see it again.
That was inexcusable to him. He didn't belong in the capital. He wasn't a Targaryen. His name wasn't Daemon. It was Jon. His father was Lord Eddard Stark. But it seemed like everyone he met believed otherwise. He lay in the bed and looked out the door to his parlor. The light from the sun's rays were already beginning to fill the room. In a few minutes the heat would fill the chambers and he would have to get out of the bed, lest he died from the heat.
He swung out of the bed. "If there was ever a time to miss waking up in my old chambers, it would be now," he thought to himself. Waking up in Winterfell, even with the water from the hot springs piped through the walls, always came with a snap of cold air. As soon as he put his feet on the ground, he would feel a small chill. But for a few moments, especially if he woke earlier than usual, he could lie in the bed and enjoy the mix of warmth and chill. Here, he had to get out of the bed before the heat pinned him to it.
He dressed for the day. His clothes had picked out for him as they had the week before. He glared down at the clothes, picking ones that the least amount of black or red. If there was even a hint of a dragon design on one of them, it would be tossed aside. The side effect of this method was him ending up with clashing colors on the wrong clothing article, something he was sure made other people laugh when he wasn't in the room. He didn't care. He just wanted to show everyone that he wasn't what they thought he was.
Once he was dressed, he stepped out into the parlor. Mya was already there, putting his tray down on the table. "Good morning, Mya," he greeted her.
"Good morning, Jon," she replied. "If you have no further need of me…"
She said every time but they both knew it was a formality. "Please, sit and eat with me." They sat down together and began to talk. It was something that happened the first time she brought him breakfast. He had asked to sit and talk with him. He felt like they were both out of place here in the Red Keep. She indulged him and they began to talk. They've kept that talk going every morning since.
"What is happening out there?" he asked her.
"The same as always," she replied, "The knights in the yard train and dream of glory. The ladies sew and dream of love. And the court plays their game."
He didn't know what she had meant when she had first told him about the court. He couldn't believe that such a thing existed. He would've called her a liar if not for the fact that she had been here a lot longer than he had. All he could ask was what she had meant by that. He was by no means a player but he kept a wary eye out.
"Do people still ask after me for this game of theirs?"
She nodded as she broke off a piece of bread. "Of course they do. They wouldn't dream of letting such a vulnerable piece go to waste."
He was disgusted by it. "They can go fuck themselves."
She smiled just enough to be seen. "You say that every time."
"I mean it every time."
"I know."
He could not understand why people would do something like this. She had told him that there were people who wanted to supplant Prince Aegon with him as heir to the Iron Throne. Even if he was what they say (which he wasn't) he would not have condone something like that. He might have been a bastard but he had been taught that family was important. Perhaps Lady Stark would find it wrong and offensive but he obeyed House Tully's words as much as he listened to House Stark's. It was why when he dared to come out of the chambers and people came up, wanting to talk to them, he would ignore them. It had worked out so far.
Mya ate the bread and fingered a grape. The sun shined on its green skin, making it and her skin almost glow. "So, what is it you plan to do today?" she asked, popping the grape into her mouth.
"I must train Ned and Tommen." Ever since Shagga had barged into the room and reminded him of his duty, he did it faithfully.
"Is Tommen coming along well?"
He nodded. "Yes, he is. He's becoming less timid and doesn't quiver as much when Ned shouts at him." That happened a lot during training. At first Tommen would apologize and wipe away the tears in his eyes. But now, it was happening less and less.
"That's good. Tommen's a sweet boy." She snorted and said, "Which is remarkable, considering his mother."
"Who did Lady Cersei marry?" He had not seen her husband at Riverrun nor here in the Red Keep.
"I've heard it was a Lannister of Lannisport."
He paused in picking up a piece of bread. "That does not seem very advantageous." A daughter of a Lord Paramount should have had a better marriage than that.
"From what Lady Rhaenys told me, it was Cersei who married the man, without any permission or blessings from her lord father. She was told that Lord Tywin was so angered by what she had done, he did not attend the wedding nor did he attend the birth of their children. There are doubts because of his actions."
Jon didn't know much about Tywin Lannister. What little he did know came from his father. Lord Stark did not have a high opinion of Lord Tywin. He didn't have much of an opinion about the rest of House Lannister. Still, he wondered what could have happened because of Tywin's anger. "Doubts?" he asked.
"My lady has heard that because of she had done, even though she still lives in Casterly Rock, her children are not in line to succeed."
He saw something wrong with that right away. "But Lord Tywin's heir is Lord Tyrion, his son," he protested. Having known Lord Tyrion for a time at Riverrun, he found the Imp to be a decent man and thought well of him.
But Mya did not share the same thought. "Jon, it is common knowledge in the capital that Lord Tywin's desired heir is Ser Jaime, even though the king has told him that his son is and will stay a part of the Kingsguard. There has been no official declaration from Lord Tywin as to who he's heir, whether it be Lord Tyrion or Tommen Lannister."
He did find it odd. "Does Tommen's father try to push for him to become Lord Tywin's heir?"
"I don't know. Lady Cersei's husband was lost during the Greyjoy Rebellion. He died when Lannisport was sacked and the fleet burned."
He paused in picking up a piece of meat with his fork. "Tommen does not have his father anymore?"
"No."
He felt sorry for the boy. It wasn't the same but he knew what Tommen had gone through a little. He had his father but he didn't know who his mother was. Another difference was that Tommen had probably known his father. He didn't know who his mother was.
The door opened and the queen strode in. Both Jon and Mya came to their feet. "Your Grace," they said.
"Daemon, you do not need to address me like that," Queen Elia told him. There was something in her voice, something that he had heard whenever Lady Stark spoke proudly of her children. It was motherly affection. It was probably meant to warm him. It just made him feel uneasy. This whole thing made him uneasy.
He had already shut the queen off once and he wasn't going to do it again. He kept silent as he stared at the point past her. "Your Grace, is there something I can do for you?" Mya asked, breaking the silence filling the room.
She shook her head. "No, Mya, there is nothing that I require of you. I came to talk to Daemon."
"Old gods help me," he thought to himself at those words. Whatever was going to come next wouldn't be good.
She looked at him, her eyes taking note of his clothes. They were disappointed to see that he wore neither black nor red and there was no hint of a dragon. "We will have a feast tonight to celebrate the winners of the tourney at Riverrun," she told him. "It is expected for all the members of the royal family to be there."
As much as he would like to be confused, these past few weeks had made their intent clear. But he would not tell her that he would attend. He was not a Targaryen. So he kept silent and continued to stare at that spot. He waited for her to leave, hoping that it would make her leave.
But she didn't. "Daemon, you will be expected to be there as well. Your clothes will be sent to you before the feast. Please, wear them when you come." With that said, she turned around and left.
He waited until the door was close before he looked at Mya. "Did you know about this?" he asked her. He would like to think that the clothes he would get would not match him. But that was wishful thinking. The castle tailor had already measured him.
The servant girl shook her head. "I heard talks of a feast but never from someone who could actually planned it," she told him.
That meant they talked about it when she wasn't in the room. "Do they think I've made her my spy?" he asked himself. It was ridiculous. They just talked to each other, nothing more. He looked over at the door. "What do you think are my chances of not showing?"
"The queen told you personally. That means you'll have to attend. If you try to stay in these rooms, I'm sure the king will have one of the Kingsguard fetch you."
The way she said that, it didn't sound good. "By fetch, you mean…?"
"They would take you out of this room and force you to attend the feast."
She spoke as if she had seen it happened before. A scene came to his mind, of two Kingsguard coming through the door, taking him roughly, and dragging him out. "Have they actually done that?"
She nodded grimly. "As far I've seen. But it was only once and Prince Aegon was only eight when they did it. He looked defeated being carried by Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell into the feasting hall."
That was certainly an odd thing to hear. "Why would the prince try to avoid a feast?" he asked.
"I don't know, but I would guess it had something to do with the fact that the Tyrells were there."
That was odd. But when he thought about it, the prince avoided the Tyrells as best he could. No, that wasn't right. He avoided Margaery Tyrell as best he could. Jon found it odd. They were betrothed, were they not? "Does he have a problem with that house?" he asked Mya.
Her face became a little expressionless. "It's not that he has a problem with House Tyrell," she said. "He just has a problem with Lady Margaery."
"Why? They're betrothed."
"Yes, from birth."
"Then why would he want to be away from her? Surely they would have grown up together, known each other."
She shook her head. "They didn't grow up together. Lady Margaery was kept in Highgarden in her youth instead of King's Landing. When she came, a good number of Tyrells had come with her, including her brother, Ser Loras."
Jon didn't stop the sneer coming onto his face at the mention of the Knight of Flowers. Sansa had been half in love with him just by looking at him. But he had found him to be condescending and puffed up about his own abilities. Everyone thought him to be the best sword after Prince Aegon, yet a bastard from the North made short work of him. Jon had found him prone to using fancy moves that was more likely to impress and dazzle a crowd. He had cut through it all like a knife through butter. If the joust had gone as planned, he was sure Robb would've bested the man too.
Mya did see the sneer but she didn't say anything about it. She kept her opinions to herself. "The crown prince has felt that by marrying Lady Margaery, he would be drowning in roses."
That was a turn of phrase he hadn't expected. It also left him with an image that tempted him to snigger. "I don't think one could drown in roses," he said instead.
"You haven't seen the amount of Tyrells that came to King's Landing with her. Most of them are still around."
Since he tried not to leave his rooms, he couldn't argue that. "Still, once they marry, the Tyrells would leave, would they not? Should he not look forward to the marriage just for that?"
"Perhaps, if the prince actually loved her," she remarked. "He has told me many times of how he wants to marry me." She wasn't proud of the fact or embarrassed by it. She said it as it was.
But Jon was surprised by it all the same. The son of King Rhaegar wanted to marry the bastard daughter of Robert Baratheon? It seemed like an ironic twist to fate. It made him to laugh at the irony. But one look at her and the laughter died in his throat. Mya wasn't like Sansa. She wasn't in love with the prince. Actually, he thought that she looked uncomfortable with the idea. Most people wouldn't have been able to see past the expressionless mask her face was. But he knew that face and knew how to look past it. She didn't like the fact that the prince wanted to marry her. He didn't say anything about it.
He tried to keep the feast out of his mind for the rest of the day. He kept himself busy by teaching Ned and Tommen, looking over the weapons for the yard and cleaning them if they needed to be clean. People protested his actions, saying that a prince shouldn't have to do such things. It just made him focus harder on his clean.
"This is your sword, boy," he heard Ser Rodrik's words repeat themselves in his head. "You will treat it with the respect it deserves. If you don't, you don't deserve it." Both Robb and he had always taken that to mean they had to care for the swords personally. They had spent as much time swinging the swords as they had cleaning them.
As the sun began to set and the day slowly turned to night, he found himself in the godswood. He knelt before the heart tree and prayed to the old gods. He prayed for them to give him a way out of this Red Keep, to go back home. "Please," he said silently. "Set me free from this place. I'm beginning to feel like I will never leave this place. This is not my home."
The old gods were silent. They always were. Father always said their answer would be in the silence. But Jon was beginning to wish that they would send him some kind of visible answer. By the time he stopped praying, it was night. "Your Highness!" called out a voice, followed by the sound of armor clinking as it moved.
He turned from the heart tree and walked back down the path. He ran into two of the Kingsguard along the way. "Ser Whent, Ser Martell," he greeted the two politely.
"Where have you been?" asked the Dornishman.
"Here, in the godswood. I've been praying. Is something the matter?"
"The feast has started."
He had hoped they forgotten about him when it came to the feast. But it appeared that he had no luck. "I see. Then I shall go to my chambers."
"So you can hide away from the others?" said Ser Oswell, chuckling like it was a joke. "No, my prince, we can't allow you to do that. You will have to come as you are."
He looked down at his clothes. "But, I am not wearing suitable clothing for a feast." He wasn't planning on hiding in his chambers. If they caught him, he was going to have to attend. But that didn't mean he would have to attend like this. It would make him stand out even more.
"He's right, Oswell," Ser Lewyn said to his brother knight. "A prince of the blood cannot come to a feast looking as if he came from working in the fields. What kind of example would that set?"
"If we take him back to his chambers, we will need a battering ram to get him out of there," he retorted.
"Then we shall stand inside the chambers and wait for him in there."
That was what they did. They waited in his parlor while he changed into something more suitable. When he was dressed and came back out to meet them, he saw how they looked at his clothes. It was entire black assemble with no hint of red or dragon anywhere in sight. They insisted that he changed again, claiming that he looked more like a Night's Watchman than a Targaryen. That sounded just fine to him and he refused to move on it. Finally they gave up on it. Ser Oswell muttered something that sounded like "Stubborn Starks," but with fondness, oddly.
They escorted him down to the queen's ballroom. He had wanted to enter quietly, find a seat near the door, and keep his head down to avoid being seen inside. But the Kingsguard prevented him from doing so. They kept him from entering the hall. He heard the banging of a staff against the ground and the herald proclaimed, "Prince Daemon Targaryen!"
The doors opened and Jon found the entirety of the hall staring at him. So many curious eyes were focused on him. He felt his throat go dry and his nerves fluttered. He didn't belong here. There was a firm glove against his back. One of the Kingsguard gave him a small push, forcing him into the hall.
As soon as he stepped inside, he had to keep walking. He saw an empty chair at the high table, just one. It was between Lady Margaery and Prince Aegon. It was for him, gods help him. He couldn't hide. He walked down the hall and saw Sam sitting at a table. Dolorous Edd was at another. Prince Quentyn was at a third, closer to the high table. His friends were here, but he could not sit by them.
He approached the high table and sat down. He didn't say anything to anyone there. But that didn't mean they wouldn't talk to him. "Prince Daemon," Lady Margaery greeted him with a dazzling smile. Ser Loras sat on her other side, glaring moodily at him.
The urge to correct her swelled up in his throat. His name was Jon, not Daemon. But in doing so would've caused a scene. He didn't want to draw more attention to him. "My lady," he said instead.
"We did not think that you would attend. Everyone was wondering where you were."
He doubted that. He could see the way people looked at him. They were all trying to see if he could be of any importance to them. "I was busy, my lady."
"Oh yes, you've been training those two boys to become brothers-in-arms." She frowned prettily. "But I had thought you had trained them this morning, my prince. Where did you go from there?"
"Probably to find something else that got his attention," her brother said. "Gods know there was enough of that at Riverrun." He gave Jon a sneer without even moving his lips.
Anger burned through him at that look. Was he implying that he went to find a prostitute? He would never have done that. "Bran would be disappointed in him," he thought to himself. And so was he. This man was a knight. He was supposed to be chivalrous, able to admit that he had a lost a spar and not act like a child who lost his toy.
"Come now, Ser Loras," Aegon said from his other side. "You've seen my brother at Riverrun. We all did. I don't think that I have ever met such a virtuous man outside of the Faith."
While he was glad for the defense, Jon felt uncomfortable to hear the prince say the word brother. He glance quickly at him and didn't see any mocking or deceit on his face. He looked as if he meant the words he said. But that face was also waiting for him to answer, so were the others. "I was in the godswood," he finally said.
"Doing what?" asked Lady Tyrell.
Rhaenys gave her a long look from where she sat beside Aegon. "One would assume that he was praying." She looked his way, her face softening. She was beautiful when her face did that. "What did you pray for?"
He reached for a piece of pork. "That is between me and the gods," he told her. She didn't ask him anything else. He saw the sad look in her eyes and instantly knew that she knew the truth of the matter. She knew that he had been praying to go home.
"My, you are quite faithful, my prince," Lady Margaery remarked. "Perhaps people should call you the Faithful Dragon." Her brother snorted in derision. Jon felt his hand clench into a fist. He wanted to repay that snort back.
He heard someone move behind him. He looked back and saw Mya there. "More drink, my prince?" she asked him, holding a wine pitcher. She cast a single look at Lady Margaery and the Tyrell rose fell silent.
Jon kept the smile growing on his face to himself. Mya had already told him about how she was allowed to yell at the Tyrells. It was a decision that they had regretted the moment she opened her mouth. Now, it was clear that they remembered that and were a little nervous around her. He saw the prince moving from his eye's corner. One quick look and he saw that Prince Aegon was grinning.
"I am fine, Mya," he assured her. He hadn't touched his goblet yet. She had come over to stop the Tyrells. He was glad for her help.
She removed the pitcher from his sight and walked away. She came up behind Rhaenys. "My lady?" she asked her.
Rhaenys held her goblet. "Thank you, Mya."
The feast continued. Jon quickly felt his good mood leave him. It seemed that praise was heaped upon the Tyrells and they grew smugger with each new praise. While Lady Margaery was able to look humble with her beauty and grace being praised, Jon could tell that she was proud that she was praised and no one else.
Her brother wasn't so subtle. Each time his sword arm or horse-riding skills were praised, he grew smugger. He looked at Jon and each looked proclaimed how much better he was than him. Each time he saw the look, his anger would grow. He tried to force himself not to look, to find something else to keep his attention. But the looks were still there and they kept stirring his anger.
He was so willing to ignore the looks that he finally chose to talk to Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. She was happier than him that Jon was actually talking to them. But whatever the chance of the conversation between the three of them being good were soured when Loras Tyrell opened his mouth. He seemed to have something to say anything and everything about Jon, things that were never good.
Finally, after hearing someone giving Loras a toast to his horsemanship and the Tyrell quipping that Robb had to have known he was better and dismounted because of it, he had had enough. He pushed back from the table and stood up, a motion that caused everyone at the feast to stop and look at him.
The first thought that came to him was "This is a bad idea." He didn't want this to happen. He was tempted to sit back down, but he looked at Loras Tyrell and he stayed standing.
"Daemon," said the king. "Do you have something to say?"
He did. And he had the words to say. "I do, my king." He reached down and picked up his goblet, holding up for all to see. "A toast to Ser Loras Tyrell, for he is truly like his father." He paused and everyone leaned in to hear what he had to say. "He has a remarkable talent for sitting on his arse."
Silence reigned true in the feast. And then, someone began to laugh. It started from the lower tables and grew until the entire hall shook with their laughter. He saw Quentyn laughing alongside his uncle, sister, and Ser Daemon Sand. He saw Sam looking surprised but also laughing quietly to himself. He didn't need to look at the Tyrells to know that they were stunned. The people who had been praising them were now laughing right in their faces. "How dare you?" demanded Loras.
He looked at the fuming Tyrell. "I speak only the truth, ser. At Riverrun, when my fight with Lord Redwyne's sons, Robb Stark dismounted his horse and came to my aide. You, on the other hand, continued to sit in your saddle like a child not understanding his maester's lesson. Of course, considering how weak your sword arm is, your jousting skills should be called into question too."
"What!?" he roared.
Jon did not stop. He was paying back every look and comment he had gotten from the arrogant southron today. "People have all made tales about how you are have the best sword in the Seven Kingdoms, save for Prince Aegon. And yet, when you came for me and demanded a spar, I beat you easily." That day, he had come to the spar intent on fighting as if his life depended on it. Loras did not. Instead he treated like he was about to give someone a lesson, looking quite bored with everything. That was what cost him the spar. "Perhaps if the joust had continued as it should have, Robb would have unhorsed you."
Ser Loras's face mottled red in rage. He stood up with his goblet in hand. "YOU BASTARD!" he screamed, throwing the wine at Jon.
The wine smelled almost sickeningly sweet as it splashed against his clothes, skin, and hair. His nose was filled with the smell of grapes. The laughter died away in that moment. They all stared at him, shock and fear showing in their eyes. They wondered what he would do next. Since they knew him as a dragon, they must've thought that he would yell or shout.
But he didn't. The anger that burned like a fire at the earlier insults froze by a chilling wind. He was not a dragon that would burn everything in its rage. He was a wolf and he would make the spoiled brat know it. The wine dribbled into his eyes. He wiped it away. "You are right, ser. I am a bastard."
The king stood up. "Daemon—"
He kept talking. "I am a bastard. I was born a bastard. I was raised a bastard. And even though you call me that like it is supposed to be an insult, you yourself wish to be called a bastard."
Loras's face mottled again. "Say that again."
"You wish to be a bastard. I knew it when I first heard the title they gave you. The Knight of Flowers," he said derisively. "Tell me, ser, did you not object to the title because you wished to be known as Ser Flowers? Or was it because you are so witless that you did not notice what the name could mean? If it is the first, then I must wonder why it is that you hate your family so much."
"You take that back right now!"
He nodded in acquiescence. "Very well, I do take it back. I understand what a family means, whether to a trueborn or a bastard. But what I said remains true. You did nothing while Robb did. He was the embodiment of knighthood whist you sat and did nothing. And now I find you prickly when told the truth." He looked to the prince. "Prince Aegon, was there a plan to name Ser Loras to the Kingsguard?"
Aegon looked almost surprised that he was called upon. He was able to school his surprise into a mask of neutrality. "People have been talking about how he would make a good addition."
"Ignore them and don't give him entry. I find him too rude, arrogant, and more concerned about heaping glory upon himself instead obeying the mandate of the Kingsguard: to guard the king." His piece said he sat down in his seat. Margaery Tyrell moved her seat as far away as she could from him without actually moving it. Loras glared at him to death. He ignored them both. The rest of the feast, he chose to talk only to the royal family, when they asked him something. Aside from that, he stayed silent. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ser Jaime Lannister. The Kingsguard looked…like he approved.
He thought that was the end of it, until he went back to his chambers and found Rhaenys there. "Princess," he said, closing the door behind him, "What are you doing here?"
She folded her arms and eyed him. "I can't visit my brother?" she asked.
The wave of uneasiness he always felt when someone mentioned that he was supposedly a part of the royal family. "Your Highness—"
"Rhaenys," she said, stopping him. "My name is Rhaenys." She didn't wait for him to answer before she continued. "You insulted House Tyrell tonight."
His back stiffened. "I will not apologize for it."
She smiled and it was a beautiful thing. "I know. I'm not asking you to. Seven knows that they can be unbearable. I always enjoy seeing getting knocked down like that." She walked up to him and kissed him.
His hands instinctively went to her sides and pulled her closer. Her scent, spicy and yet warm too, drowned. She kissed him back and his body agreed with the sentiment. His sword was rising and sharpening just from a single kiss. But then his mind came back to him. He stopped kissing her and pulled himself away.
But she wouldn't let him go so easily. "Why did you stop?" she asked. "Is it because you think yourself a bastard? Or is it because we are brother and sister?"
If he was being honest, it was the former. But since she brought up the latter, he couldn't help but think about that too. "Yes," he said.
She frowned. She reached and cupped his cheek with her hand. "You are not a bastard. We're Targaryens. What this is, it is only natural for us."
It was incest. There was nothing else about it. It was an affront to the eyes of gods and men alike. "It's wrong," he told himself. But the more he looked at Rhaenys, saw her dressed in a deep red dressed that made her skin seem to glow and leaving her shoulders bare, he found the excuse didn't work.
She must've seen the desire in his eyes. "At Riverrun, you said that you couldn't give me what I deserved, that I should want a man who can make me happy and safe. Things have changed since then. You can give me those things." She stepped in close and pressed herself against his body. "You still love me, don't you?"
He did. Having her like this, feeling her body with his own, it was more than he could've hoped for. He never thought that he would fall in love with anyone. If he had, it certainly wouldn't have been with a princess. But holding her now, kissing her, it felt right. And that terrified him completely. "Yes," he whispered into her hair, the word coming out as a prayer. "But—"
"No," she told him. "You are here, now. Things are different. You are not who we thought you were. There are no buts. We can be together."
He couldn't find it in himself to say no. For the first time in his life, he thought that never seeing Winterfell or the North wouldn't be such a bad thing. That terrified him even more than kissing Rhaenys. "You should go," he told her, forcing himself to say those words.
She left with no argument. Why would she? She had him and he didn't find it so bad.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
And the walls of Jon start to crumble down. It's not an instant thing but it is happening.
A lot of people had wondered who Cersei's husband was. Here he is, at least partially. And because Cersei did one little act of defiance, no one knows if her son will inherent the Rock or Tyrion. You'll probably wonder why she had done something so foolish, reckless, and stupid. Well, we are talking about Cersei here. Who knows? Maybe her husband looked similar to Jaime.
Jon's chewing out Loras came to mind when Mya chewed out everyone else. I felt the line she used on Mace was too good to leave it at once. There had to be a repeat. Also, has no one else notice the dangerous ground Loras put himself on with a title like the Knight of Flowers? If he really wanted to avoid it, he should've called himself the Knight of Roses. That's much safer.
I'll see you all next chapter!