Brienne

The warm summer morn greeted the spectators as they returned to the stands around the tourney field. With the number of participants whittled down to 8 the parade of participants and the bouts would go quicker without needing to be rushed.

As one of the over seven score participants in the Melee, Brienne had been allowed to use the stables as she prepared herself. Several riders had also used the stables, though most had opted to keep their mounts closer to their pavilions as the Melee would not start until the morrow.

Standing well over six feet tall Brienne knew that the lance was adequate, but her size made it easy for her opponents as there was more than enough of her that could not be hidden behind a shield. Anyone truly skilled with a lance would be able to take advantage of that fact and unhorse her.

"A hundred dragons on the Kingslayer," she heard one of the riders offer.

"That's a fool's bet," a familiar voice stated, bringing a slight blush to the scruffy blond woman. She knew the speaker, had even met him on a few occasions. Many said that he was a spitting image of his brother in his prime, though it was there that their resemblance ended. Standing tall in his majestic green armor and donning a magnificent antler crowned helm he had his back to her. "The girl is a surprise, but I doubt that she can best the Kingslayer."

"I'll take that bet," a gruff voice proclaimed behind her. Spinning around she spotted the heavy set man in blue-grey armor. The emblem on his shield was not one that she recognized, though it matched the shield that the Kingslayer's opponent bore. He stood a good head shorter than she did, and though his body appeared to be a bit round the way that he moved suggested that he had plenty of muscle beneath the armor.

"I'll put a hundred on the Kingslayer," Lord Renly seconded as he waved for his squire.

"Aye," the older man nodded as he pulled out a pouch. "One hundred a piece – it'll be nearly as easy as taking gold from the Lannisters."

All three men chuckled even as they turned their attention to the bout. Not wanting to appear uninterested Brienne stood behind them and watched as well. On the first tilt Jaime Lannister shifted in his seat just before impact, leaning into his blow and attempting to throw off his opponent's aim at the last second. His tactic failed to do anything but shatter his lance as the girl allowed her shield to absorb the blow and even connected with her own lance on his shield though it did not hit with enough force to unseat him or shatter.

Reaching the end of the lists Lannister was handed a fresh lance by his squire. Once ready he urged his mount on. Again he attempted to unseat her with the last second shift. Unfortunately for the Kingslayer his opponent was ready and had matched his movement with a subtle shift of her own. Her lance was the first to shatter, yet even as it did so she leaned into his lance, throwing him off balance for a fraction of a second before this lance shattered. Unable to compensate for the shifting weights and momentum the Kingslayer fell off his mount.

"I'll be taking my gold then," the elderly fighter stated.

"That you shall," Renly sighed. "That girl is good – I've never seen one who could handle her saddle and lance like that Cid."

"Well, she didn't get that from me," the man known as Cid laughed heartily. "I'm sure you heard of what she'd said last night."

Lord Renly nodded, "That she's slain a dragon."

Cid nodded, "She's the best dragoon I have ever set my eyes upon. Her skill with a spear, javelin, or lance is impressive indeed. I know that there are many who think the Stormriders are naught but fools and braggarts, so to prove ourselves we will be presenting the King with dragon skulls. Tell no one as we wish it to remain a surprise."

"I wish you would reconsider my offer," Lord Renly said as his squire paid Cid. "If you had a complete skeleton I would think it an honor to display one at Dragonstone."

"It is generous," Cid admitted, "but the troupe thought it best to wait until after they make a name for themselves in the tourney before they accept any offers for work. If things go well we might even manage to recruit a few lads and lasses. As to the skeletons, well, the bones make useful weapons. The Dothraki love to make bows out of the ribs, not to mention the uses for the other bones."

"Then why not sell the bones? You could make a fortune!"

Cid shook his head. "Years from now when people think of the Hand's Tourney they will remember only that the Stormriders made a name for themselves."

The other gambler shook his head. "I doubt that many would take your troupe on. There is peace in the land and the boys are young"

"But disciplined."

The man nodded. "And then there's the matter of the girls – even in the east"

"They do not treat women as equals," finished Cid sternly. "I dare you to say that to Temperance or Meliadoul! Even Alma knows how to handle herself in a battle – that's more than you could say of the Prince or of most a few years older than her."

"I think my performance thus far is proof enough of my worth." The girl known as Temperance Stormwaters casually strode up to the group on her mount. "It will be their own fault when I eliminate them in the tourney this afternoon. If someone were to underestimate me because I am a woman that is their fault, not mine own. They but prove themselves more a fool to believe that a woman cannot be a man's equal. "

Piercing grey eyes silenced the naysayer even as Lord Renly climbed atop his mount to face the Mountain that Rides.

Despite her prayers for his victory Brienne found herself afraid for Lord Renly. It had been Sir Clegane who had slain the young Sir Hugh of the Vale. His mount was far larger than most, yet it was nothing beneath the giant of a man that rode it. No shield could hide him, but few were capable of unseating the Mountain, especially with a tourney lance.

She knew that Renly had no chance, and she was right. The King's brother was unceremoniously upended. Time froze for Brienne, her lungs and heart refusing to act until finally Lord Renly pushed himself onto his hands and knees. A mighty cheer erupted from the stands he regained his feet, the cause of the sound in his hand. Playfully he tossed the broken golden antler into the crowd. The riot that ensued ended only when the gracious lord stepped into the crowd, bestowing several dozen stags to those involved.

The remaining bouts flew by with little fanfare - Ramza Snowstorm losing to the Hound after three tilts and King awarding the bout to the Prince's guardsman and the Knight of Flowers defeating Robar Royce.

The semi-finals saw the Hound best the Ramza Snowstorm in three tilts that were awarded to the Stormrider when neither rider was unseated.

But it was the second semi-final bout that captured everyone's attention, not for the result, but the aftermath. Enraged that the Knight of Flowers had apparently employed some underhanded trick that allowed the smaller knight to win, the Mountain called for his squire even as Sir Loras played to the crowd, his defeated foe forgotten. It was not until the Mountain had beheaded his steed with his mighty great sword that the spectators realized what was happening. Screams and cries added to the chaos as the Mountain closed on Sir Loras even as he was calling for his own squire.

The sudden appearance of Ramza Snowstorm on the field barely registered in Brienne's mind as she rushed to grab her sword. She did not know what words the Mountain and the Stormrider exchanged but in an instant the huge blade was cutting through the air at the unarmed youth. As quickly as it had begun it was over and the Mountain was flat on his back as Ramza used the big man's momentum to flip him and slam him into the ground.

Marach

The chill of the early autumn night was held at bay by the fire in the brazier, yet it was the same brazier that allowed the Stormriders to spy on virtually all of King's Landing. After Wilfrid's accidental discovery of the elemental catalysts needed to properly perform magic things had become all the easier for Marach. The special brazier that he had constructed around a dragon's skull allowed him to use fire to scry anywhere in the city so long as there was a fire nearby. In the royal city there were flames everywhere – torches along the walls of the castles, torches carried by guardsmen as well as conspirators traveling through secret passages, candles used to illuminate the room while writing a letter, braziers that warmed the rooms where secret lovers met – all were useful, though the mage needed to filter out the less useful fires from the more useful ones. It was tedious but necessary, and far easier to deal with than the magical wasps that he had brought with him. The wasps were still useful, but now he did not need to rely on them exclusively.

*Did you know that the language we know as Lesalian is very similar to High Valyrian?* the studious scribe said off-handedly as he stirred a small cauldron and read from a book. Like most of the other members of the Stormriders, Wilfrid was able to do multiple things at once though his favorite combination of activities was reading and brewing potions. It was not that he was reading the instructions on how to brew a potion, which would have been the logical conclusion; no, Wilfrid liked to read other things while brewing potions.

The most that Marach had been able to do was write notes or make rough drawings while he was scrying. The concentration needed to work his magic forced him to focus on just scrying and occasionally getting a word in here and there though he wished that he could do other things while he scrying. "Would you be quiet, please?" he strained focus on what the flames were showing him. "I'm trying to discover who the Queen wants dead."

"That's obvious," the scribe replied.

Marach refused to let the other boy draw him into his conversation.

*She wants us dead,* Wilfrid stated.

*There are others that she wants dead as well,* Radd stated as he slipped into the tent.

Grunting, Marach released the spell. The fire in the brazier turned orange as the magic infused into the flames receded. "I give up," he sighed. While not as taxing as employing his wasps, scrying via fire was a process that he needed to refine. *I was just trying to figure out why she wanted us dead as well as the King.*

Even the ever cool Radd paused as he made to examine Wilfrid's work. For his part the scribe/chemist looked up from his book but refused to stop adding ingredients to the potion.

*The Queen wants the King dead, and us as well,* he explained. *The people I was spying on know about this but are not party to the plan.*

*An information broker,* concluded Radd.

Marach shook his head, *It sounded more like someone who is trying to use that information for his own benefit. This is far more than I can handle alone.*

*Ralpha*

*Ralpha does not know this type of magic,* he said, cutting off his friend. *Ken, Wilfrid and Pauline are our best mages aside from myself and Reis. Wilfrid's already busy brewing and he's our best chemist so I won't take him off of those duties.*

Radd nodded reluctantly. They really were stretched thin. *I will have Kenneth and Pauline help you, and I'll speak to Beowulf about setting our guards tonight. I doubt anything will happen to the others, but they should be prepared.*

*The Queen wants us dead, and she appears to have put things in motion to achieve that end, but what of the King?* Wilfrid asked as he absently stirred the cauldron.

*It sounds as though she has set things in motion, but they are not complete,* Marach sighed as he rubbed his forehead. *She had that knight killed, and I wouldn't be surprised if she had her father's bannermen try to kill Temperance and Ramza as well, but the attack on that knight seems to be the result of Sir Clegane's temper and not the Queen's order.*

*Did you find out why she wanted Sir Hugh dead?*

Marach shook his head. *I did find out that the King's Hand suspects that the Queen was involved. He also believes that her family had a hand in his predecessor's death.*

That tidbit froze the other youths in their tracks.

*I suppose that Ramza will definitely want to hear that,* he surmised.

The others nodded but it was Radd who responded, *I suppose he will.*

Arya

'Swift as a deer,' Arya though as she took in the scene on the tourney field. 'Quick as a snake - that is what Ramza Snowstorm is.'

The young free rider was perhaps no older than her brother Rob, and stood half a head shorter too, yet he had stood his ground between the Mountain and the Knight of Flowers, unwilling to allow the enraged knight to approach his target. Wearing his armor and baring no weapons or shield he stood firm. "Stop."

"Out of the way boy!" the Mountain growled threateningly as he took another massive step forward.

Ramza eyed the other man, "No."

Growling like a bear the Mountain swung his great sword in a diagonal slash. Blood clung to the blade, evidence of what it was capable of as Sir Gregor had nearly beheaded his own steed with it.

To the surprise of everyone who could see him, Ramza dashed in, closing the distance between them before anyone could even utter a cry of surprise. Catching the big man's wrists in his hand the youth spun even as he pulled down, throwing the Mountain into the air before sending him crashing down onto the packed earth. The thunderous crash was far louder than the breaking of Lord Renly's antler and silenced the crowd.

"I said enough," Ramza said as he gazed down at the stunned giant. To emphasize his point he lifted the Mountain's blade and threw it aside.

'The blade's longer than he is tall,' Arya thought to herself as she heard applause fill the stands.

"That will be enough," the King's booming voice proclaimed. Over a full score of blades were drawn, another score of men at arms or knights had their hands on their hilts. "Take him to the tower dungeon so that he can cool his head."

The final bout seemed a mere formality as the Knight of Flowers and the final Stormrider rode two tilts before the seemingly distracted Sir Loras was knocked off of his mount.

Though he had been escorted from the tourney grounds, the Mountain was the most memorable rider in the tourney and the Stormriders had emerged with the win and the crowd's favor. Arya couldn't help but think about the calm and cool Ramza. Had she not seen it herself she would not have believed it, though many in attendance had no doubt embellished the Stormrider's accomplishment. As they left the stands she heard how Ramza had stood his ground wearing silks and furs, had sent the Mountain flying the length of the list, and robbed him of his armor.

"Did you see with your eyes?" Syrio asked her as he accompanied her to the archery field.

Arya nodded. "He stood his ground and flipped the Mountain."

A slight smile and nod told her that there was more that she hasn't seen, or at least hadn't thought about. Mentally she replayed the scene, looking past the numerous Kingsguard and men at arms that had been slow to intervene. "He was swift as a snake and fast as a deer."

The smile broadened, "And?"

The girl paused, unsure. "He was calm as still water, strong as a bear, and fierce as a wolverine. The man known as the Mountain was strong as a bear and fierce as a wolverine too, but he was not calm as still water.

"I should like to see how he handles himself in the tourney."

For the first time Arya felt that she too was looking forward to watching a Melee.

Reis

The Hand's Tourney was proving to be the best thing that had happened since their arrival in Westeros. Not only was it an opportunity for the troupe to acquire some much needed money, it was also giving Marach and the others a chance to explore the city without the usual encumbrances of the thick crowds.

The spy's discovery of the hidden passages into the Tower of the Hand as well as several other locations had yet to be shared with Ramza, but both Cid and Beowulf knew and they had decided to not let this opportunity pass. With Cid, Ramza, Radd, Temperance, and Pauline busy with the Joust and Archery competitions that left Kenneth, Wilfrid, Rose, Ralpha, and herself to explore leaving the others to their duties or to tend to the tent.

Marach had not blinked an eye when she had volunteered to venture into the Tower of the Hand, though he had asked Rose to accompany her as it was one of the few places that could prove troublesome to them.

The Dragonkin could not help but marvel at the ease with which the younger woman could blend into the shadows. Within the troupe everyone called them the twins not because of they shared blood, but because they appeared to be so similar in personality and physically. Of the troupe they were the first to become Fell Knights, though they both preferred to move silently in the shadows than to use their skills with swords.

After a while she forgot that Rose had even accompanied her as the silent girl kept to the shadows. Or had she opted to take a different fork in the tunnel? Reis wasn't sure.

Her focus now on the ancient presence's call she strode forward confidently, her steps never faltering in the darkness. After what she assumed was over an hour she found herself in a large room. Despite the lack of light she could clearly see the skulls of many ancient and powerful dragons, the largest of which dwarfed even the mighty Dark Celibate.

Though they were long dead the empty sockets seemed to follow her as she walked through the room until finally she stood before the oldest and largest. Tentatively she reached out to touch the cool, black skull. Suddenly the world went black.

Dragons are wickedly smart, just as smart as humans, but their thought processes were vastly different. Rather than conversing with words they expressed intent. Even a dead dragon could pass on knowledge to another dragon, or in this case a dragonkin.

As the darkness receded around Reis knew what she needed to do. Down the line she went, touching each skull, allowing them to impart their knowledge and dying wishes onto her.

Eddard

Despite the hectic and chaotic morning Eddard found himself in a pleasant mood. After speaking with Sir Barristan Selmy in the early morn over the body of Sir Hugh of the Vale, settling the knight's account with his armorer, and talking the King out of participating in the Melee had been tiring yet fruitful.

The Queen's absence during the morning meal had helped both his and the King's moods. At times it felt as though they were still young and free of their responsibilities as Robert shared tales of their youth with the others.

Things had taken a dark turn though when Sir Clegane had attempted to attack the Knight of Flowers. Sansa had nearly broken down hysterically when the Mountain had beheaded his stead. If not for the timely intervention of Ramza Snowstorm someone might have died. Even the Kingsguard and the other men at arms and knights had not reacted so quickly as the Stormrider, and before any of them had even drawn their swords the whole incident was over and the Mountain was on the ground and unarmed.

The tourney had eventually been won by Temperance Stormwaters, and the archery competition had nearly been won by Pauline Stormwaters. Though she had been able to shoot the furthest she was not the most accurate.

The Melee had gone in the Stormrider's favor though. With five entrants in a field of over seven score Eddard had expected the contest to last longer. Many had scoffed at the Stormriders' boasts that they had slain dragons and other creatures, and when they had started the Melee on foot few thought that they would prevail. Their effort and eventual victory though changed many minds.

Over the course of a Melee it is not unusual for the various knights to form short term alliances, especially if they are familiar with each other. Several such alliances had been formed in this Melee, yet it was clear that none stood a chance against the five Stormriders. Even afoot they were more than a match for their opponents. The first to fall to their blunted blades had been a group of Lannister bannermen. Over a score in number and mounted, their quick departure made it all the more evident to the spectators that the Stormriders were a viable force.

Typical tactics called for the five participants to stand shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield so that they could close ranks, yet with only five of them fighting they had opted to stand a few paces apart so that they were close enough to assist each other but far enough to not encumber each other.

Temperance Stormwaters drew much attention from the mounted knights, each seeking to best the tourney's victor in the Melee yet her skill with a spear easily matched if not exceeded her skill with a lance. With the reach her weapon gave her she easily unseated all who came near her.

Ramza with his flail and blunt sword cut a path of devastation through the field. His flail unhorsed many, while also lashing out to assist his companions. Cid, Meliadoul, and Beowulf displayed their skills with swords, taking down many knights while their shields were battered relentlessly. As one the quintet moved. If one of them moved in some direction the others quickly followed suit, ensuring that they did not leave each other unprotected.

In less than an hour the five unmounted warriors had eliminated over a score of Lannister bannermen. It was uncanny how efficiently Ramza Snowstorm could either shatter a shield with his flail or unhorse them before striking them down with his sword. Whenever someone came close enough to strike he acted first.

Once the Lannister bannermen had been dealt with the other, smaller alliances took notice. Smaller factions moved to test the Stormriders, others moved to take advantage of their position and forced others between their group and the Stormriders.

The quintet held their own until only the cream of the crop remained. Less than a score of combatants remained, five of them were Stormriders. Sir Loras, Thoros of Myr, Lord Renly, and the Hound were the most notable of the remaining knights. The rest were free riders and hedge knights.

In an odd show of sportsmanship the Hound dismounted before leveling his great sword at Ramza. Around him the other participants did the same. All around them the other participants dismounted. Thoros' flaming blade scared many of the other mounts, giving him a distinct advantage over the other riders, but on foot he was still a skilled swordsman.

Ramza nodded, accepting the Hound's challenge. The Hound did not rush and opted for a more cautious approach. While he was not as large as his brother he was several heads taller than Ramza and combined with his great sword he easily kept the Snowstorm at bay. It was not until the young blond caught the great sword in the cord of his flail and then hammered with his own sword that he managed to disarm the Hound. A resounding strike connected with the Hound's helm, signaling his elimination from the Melee.

In the time it took him to eliminate the Hound his companions had bested all but five – Sir Loras, Lord Renly, a free rider/sell sword, Thoros of Myr, and a woman known as Brienne of Tarth.

Sir Loras managed to defeat Temperance Stormwaters with the assistance of a sell sword though that alliance ended once the Stormrider was eliminated. Brienne and Renly pressed Meliadoul and Beowulf, though the Stormriders refused to give ground. Cid dispatched Thoros, shattering his flaming sword before moving to face Sir Loras before the young knight pointed his blade at Ramza.

With a nod Ramza accepted, sending the ancient swordsman to assist the others. The two youths were of similar builds and height, their weapons roughly matched in length yet there were many more differences between them. Ramza only used his weapons when he intended to either strike or defend while Loras' blade danced singing a tune of parries, slashes, stabs, and feints. Every time the Knight of Flowers moved to strike at his opponent he was greeted with a powerful series of counters that battered his shield. For every strike he landed on Ramza three answered. It was a battle of attrition that the Knight of Flowers could not win. It did not help that the other remaining Stormriders had bested their opponents.

In an unusual display of honor and respect, the others waited for Ramza to finish off Sir Loras before turning on him.

Eddard would have thought that even those odds did not favor Ramza, but having seen him dismantle the Knight of Flowers, the Hound, and the Mountain he was no longer sure about that. Of the three only, Cid managed to land a blow on Ramza though his rewards was a felling blow to the chest by Ramza's flail which eliminated him. It did not take long for Ramza to best Meliadoul and Beowulf despite their best efforts.

After nearly three and a half hours the Melee was finally over. With the Stormriders emerging victoriously and with their strong display few dared to call them braggarts or liars.

"The Hand's Tourney will be remembered as the Stormrider's Tourney," Littlefinger stated. Though he had been loathed to name a victor early on, the Master of Coin had finally placed a bet on the eventual winner being a Stormrider. "I have never seen anyone who could defeat the Hound, the Mountain, or the Knight of Flowers. I doubt even the Kingslayer could claim to have done so."

Ramza

There were few things that the youngest Beoulve son disliked more than gregarious ceremonies and banquets yet here he found himself. Fortunately he was not alone as the rest of his Stormriders were present. From what he had managed to hear his troupe had certainly captured the attention of the people and their nobles. They had gone from the youthful braggarts to the brutally efficient and skilled sell swords. While there were still those who called them liars none dared to say such a thing in their presence.

With all that Marach and the others had told him, Ramza understood why they were loathed to remain in King's Landing. There were a multitude of offers from a wide variety of noble lords and ladies seeking to secure the services of their troupe, and many more offers for them to travel with many more of them back to their castles and lands. Even he had to admit that some of the offers were tempting, but without truly knowing the lands and their lords he could not commit himself or his team to them.

Sipping at his chilled honey milk he smiled as another lord praised him for his performance in the Melee and the Tourney. 'The Queen wants us dead,' he thought as he eyed the smiling beauty. Experience told him that there was more venom behind her smile than anything else. 'She also wants the King dead.' He glanced at the King's right hand man and loyal friend. 'The Hand believes that the Queen had a hand in killing his predecessor, and that her brother hired an assassin to kill his son. He also was interested in Gendry, and I think I know why.'

With all of the Stormrider's present at the banquet it had not taken long for Ramza to understand why the Queen's glare had been most intently directed at the troupe's smith. As a bastard himself he understood the significance of the King's resemblance to their smith. It did not help that she had disliked them for their role in the resolution of the incident between the Prince and the Hand's daughter at the Trident, but for them to take in the King's bastard was adding injury to insult.

Finally, "Do you not like the Dawnish wine?" the Knight of Flowers asked Ramza as he offered to pour some into the free rider's goblet.

"I do not drink alcohol because I prefer to enjoy my life as it is," he replied coolly as he focused on the young knight before him. "While it may enhance the flavor of the meats or help one relax, I have never felt the need to rely on it."

"Of course," the Queen said as the Kingslayer poured her a measure of wine, "if I were able to think up stories about how to kill a dragon sober I wouldn't need to drink either."

"If you had fought a dragon you would know that alcohol would make you all the more flammable," Temperance chimed in. "But since no one has had the time to stop by our tent in the commons we arranged to have the remains of two dragons brought to the feast."

All eyes turned to the two Stormriders, and then followed their gaze to the Queen. Her face showed no emotion as six more Stormriders approached the feast. Broken up into three pairs the first set bore a wooden platter with a blackened skull. The distinctive black tone to the bone occurred only in dragonbone due to their high iron content.

"This one was a young green and had yet to learn how to breathe fire, though his claws, teeth, and tail were more than sufficient to rip through even the strongest mail," Ramza explained as the servants set the skull before the King's table. The skull was perhaps the size of a large hound and lacked the shiny polished look of the skulls that once hung about the throne room. "These are, perhaps, six months old so the bones are still able to be used to make fine weapons.

"This one what they called a hydra – a three headed dragon," he added as the second platter was presented. Three skulls, each roughly the size of a knight's breastplate, with menacing fangs the length of a man's forearm, burdened the servers and the platter. "This one breathed fire hot enough to melt stone.

"These are some of the smaller dragons that we fought." The third platter had half a dozen skulls of assorted sizes. The largest was the size of the Imp's chest, the smallest the size of a man's head. "I hope that these help prove what we are capable of." Ramza's clear blue eyes gave all of their naysayers an icy glare, daring them to voice their criticisms and doubts.

"I have no doubt of your prowess," Tyrion Lannister stated as he stood in his seat. "If you could unman the Mountain then surely a dragon would not be the match for your troupe. And while I think that you are missing out on some of the finer things in life" he lifted his goblet and took a mighty gulp "it just means that there is more for me." Again he raised his cup, this time for the serving girl to fill it.

A quick smile formed on Ramza's face as he raised his goblet of chilled milk to match the Imp's.

"To the Stormriders," Tyrion proposed "may your skills never be needed in Westeros!"

Tensions eased, the crowd drank to the young free riders.

"I would like to see those skulls though they do look unappetizing," Tyrion added as he smiled at Ramza. "I've always found dragons to be so fascinating."

"Of course you would," Temperance interjected. "But when it's staring you down you might not find it as fascinating then."

"I'm sure I'd be thinking if my piss has enough alcohol in it that it would make me burn hotter or if it might be enough to put out the fire." His roaring laughter drowned out the conversations of those seated near to the Stormriders. "But since these are mere skulls I would think that I might be able to drink without having to fear for my life."

Ramza watched as Temperance led the short man down to the skulls as they all waited for the next course to be served.

Shifting his gaze Eddard watched as Sir Loras attempted to engage Ramza in tales of his past exploits. "During the Prince's Name Day Tourney I unseated Sir Jaime Lannister. Though I did not have as easy time of it as Temperance, I did learn something from it. Experienced riders know their mount's strengths and weaknesses, and they know how to make weaknesses into strength."

"I do think that this tourney will be remembered as the debut of the Stormriders," the Lord Stark stated. "Besting the Mountain, winning the Tourney and Melee, and now presenting the King with these trophies – it is almost as though you wished a boon of his majesty."

His blue eyes locked with Lord Stark's grey ones, "Perhaps." His response was lough enough just for the Hand to hear. With most of those at the table now inspecting the skulls Ramza hoped that he could have a private conversation with the Hand of the King, yet Sir Loras' presence complicated things.

"I suppose I shall freshen my drink," the young knight stated as he excused himself.

Now alone the two warriors exited the table with Ramza leading the older man far enough away that no one could overhear them converse. With a nod from Marach, the blond knew that they were safe to talk. "My Lord Hand, I would like your support with the request that I am about to propose to the King."

"And what is it that you wish?" he asked nonplussed. "With your winnings I am sure you can procure some land anywhere, and more than a few lords would seek to have any or all of you relocate to their lands."

"If it was land we wanted I am sure we could convince some lord to accept us," Ramza agreed. "But we do not look to bind ourselves to any lords. We are bastards that no one wanted but we have banded together. Even now there are those who would deny us employment because of that fact despite our victories these past two days. We are better served by not being bound to a single lord and traveling the land dealing with any brigands and bandits, but we lack any authority."

"You wish to dispense the King's justice?" Eddard replied skeptically.

Ramza nodded, "To a degree. You saw the men that we captured and who now are on a ship north to the Wall, did you not?"

It was Lord Stark's turn to nod. "Go on."

"We have seen enough war in our travels in the East," Ramza added. "Though we are young we do not wish to claim any lands yet. We would like to travel through Westeros and keeping the peace, while also helping those who like us, were unwanted or wanted more than to just settle for our lot in life. We wish to offer others a chance to make something of themselves without having to become rogues and thieves.

"We do not wish to simply recruit members, but to serve the land. If ever the Night's Watch is in need of swords we will gladly assist them, but when we eventually wish to settle down we would like to be able to use the Gift. There we could continue to serve the land by helping the Night's Watch."

Looking into the lord's eyes he made sure not to look away as he wished to convey his sincere wish to serve this land. "I also think that Prince Joffrey would benefit from going with us." Steel gray eyes looked him over. "What I know of the prince leads me to believe that he needs some seasoning, and what better time than now when he is nearly a man grown? As the King's heir he would be able to see the kingdom that he is to rule without any Lannister bias. It would also be a chance for him to learn of the duties he will be responsible for as king. Let us take him with us in our travels and have Joffrey set up court in the other cities and castles, dispensing the King's justice as we go.

"Cid is also an excellent master of arms and with the rest of us around he would learn how and when to use his weapon. You have seen our prowress in the field – I assure you that we would keep him safe."

He could tell that the lord was considering what he had said. It had not been the best constructed argument but it was an honest one.

"I understand that your daughter is betrothed to the prince," he added, laying out his final card. "Would you want her to marry him as he is now?"

The look on Lord Stark's face was all he needed. Both of them had been present when the King had reprimanded the Prince for lying about the incident with Arya Stark's direwolf. That had been enough for both of them to know that Joffrey as he was now was not a good person, yet he was still young enough to change provided that certain influences were removed.

"I shall talk to the King about your proposal," Lord Eddard finally said. "Do not mention this to anyone else."

A/N

I really did want this fic to follow the books more, but as with all of my cross-overs the plot is the first casualty. The idea that the Stormriders would sign up with the Starks in the War of Kings was tempting, but they're just too damn powerful. As a whole they are too powerful, so look for them to have a handicap. What could be tougher than making Joffrey into a good king?

Dreamingfox