"Keep your shoulder up, Tommen, you're opening yourself up on the left!" To prove the point, Serra swung her wooden training sword to the left, tapping the young prince on the shoulder. Tommen grinned and straitened his stance, swinging his sword and meeting Serra's in the air. The blows were soft, Serra holding back in deference to the youth, but still expertly executed.
Serra was pleased with the boy's progress. She had decided a few weeks ago that if she was to guard the royal children, she would put the time to good use. Tommen was a prince, and wanted to be a knight someday like his Uncle Jamie, but so far his training had been sorely lacking. She knew if something wasn't done he would be as useless with a sword as his older brother, so she had taken it upon herself to train him properly.
Cercie had resisted at first, fearing for his safety, but the king had thought it a fine idea and given them his blessing. When Cercie had seen just how much the boy wanted to learn she had relented, albeit reluctantly.
The king had been less enthusiastic about Serra's plan to train Myrcella in the use of a dagger, but she had insisted that it was imperative that the girl have some means of protecting herself. To Serra's surprise it had been Cercie who came around first to this idea. She said she had begged her father to let her learn some skill at arms, but he had refused because she was a lady. She didn't want the same for her daughter, and liked the idea of Myrcella not being at the mercy of the men around her. The king had acquiesced eventually, and so now Serra took time each day to train the children.
The first thing Tommen had wanted to learn was how to flourish his sword, and Serra had indulged him even though she thought such displays were silly and useless. It made him happy, however, and she saw no harm in it. He did so now with a wide grin on his face, circling around Serra like a wolf stalking its prey. She knew the attack was coming but she held back, waiting to see what he would do.
Suddenly he lunged toward her, swinging his sword quickly in a flurry of strikes. Serra met each strike with a block, but was impressed with the strength behind each blow. He changed his attack periodically in response to her defense, and Serra laughed with delight when one of his blows got past her and the wooden sword struck her in the thigh.
Tommen threw his hands in the air and shouted in exultation. Serra drew him into a rough embrace. "Well done, little cub." She told him. "You're getting better every day. Now go practice with the training dummies so I can spend some time with your sister."
Tommen trundled off, still excited about his "win." Serra motioned to Myrcella, who had been watching patiently from the side as her brother trained. She had been apprehensive at first about learning to use the dagger, but had become quite enthusiastic as her skill improved. She was now showing interest in learning to use a bow, and Serra was trying to think of a way to bring this up to her parents.
Unlike Tommen, Myrcella used a real steel dagger that Serra had gifted her when she started training. She had also given her a wrist scabbard, and insisted the girl wear the weapon at all times. Myrcella now drew the dagger and assumed her stance, readying herself for her lesson. She began practicing her paces while Serra looked on with approval. Serra's concentration was interrupted when she heard a rough voice behind her.
"You'll make warriors of them yet, Wild Wolf." The Hound told her. Myrcella giggled and let her paces lapse. Serra turned around with mock disapproval.
"Not if you keep disturbing them." She said. "Besides, I doubt their mother will let me go that far."
"The king should be pleased with the progress they've made. He'll want you teach the boy to use a war hammer next."
Serra scoffed. "If he wants Tommen to use a war hammer he'll have to train him himself. I don't know the first thing about that particular weapon."
The Hound laughed. "A weapon the great Serra Stark can't use. Don't let that get around, the word around the training yard is that you're invincible."
Serra walked to face her friend, the training yard fence a barrier between them. She gave him a sly smile. "Perhaps I am." She said. "Not that you would know. You've yet to spar with me."
Sandor frowned. "You train too bloody early. I don't like to swing a sword before the sun rises."
Serra shoved his shoulder playfully. "Maybe if you drank a little less wine you could rise at a decent hour."
Sandor crossed his arms across his chest. "I think I'll keep drinking my wine. If you want to train with me you can bloody well come to the yard when I'm there."
"Impossible wretch." Serra huffed. Behind her Myrcella giggled again. "Pay attention to your practice!" Serra called over her shoulder, but hid the smile playing across her lips.
Serra and Sandor continued to chat as the children trained, but stopped to stare as several gold cloaks ran past them in a hurry. They exchanged worried glances before Sandor called out for one of the soldiers to stop. "What's happening?" he asked.
The man's face wrinkled in worry as he looked from the Hound to Serra. "Trouble with the Hand, m'lord." He said. "The Kingslayer's attacked him in the street!"
Sandor's head snapped to attention as Serra vaulted over the fence. "Why would the Kingslayer attack your brother?" he asked.
Serra growled under her breath. "Probably because my damn goodsister took Tyrion Lannister hostage."
"She did what?" he sputtered, but Serra didn't answer him.
"Where are they?" she asked the gold cloak?
The soldier looked apprehensively in the direction the others had gone. "The Street of Silk." He said finally, "In front of Lord Baelish's brothel."
"Take me." She said, and as an afterthought called back to Sandor, "Will you stay with the children?" She didn't give him a chance to answer as she ran behind the gold cloak, leaving a confused and annoyed Sandor to pick up the training.
Serra ran as quickly as she could, following the city guard to the site of the altercation. She arrived in time to see her brother in a heated battle with Ser Jamie, surrounded by Lannister men. Ned was a good swordsman, but he was no match for Jamie Lannister, and the strain of the battle was beginning to show on his face. It was clear the Kingslayer had the upper hand, and Serra struggled to push her way through the crowd to reach the battle before her brother was killed.
The red cloaks fought to bar her way but backed up as she drew her sword. Jamie had Ned backed against the line of red cloaks, and as Serra rushed to her brother's aid one of the nearest soldiers swung his sword across Ned's leg, dropping him to the ground.
"No!" Jamie shouted, and she was relieved to see that he halted his attack. Serra reached her brother's side, kneeling beside him to survey the damage. It was then that she noticed the bodies strewn around her, bodies of loyal Stark men. She looked around her in disbelief, shock turning to grief when she took in the sight of Jory Cassel, his eyes open and unseeing.
Greif quickly turned to anger, and she stood again, leveling her sword at the Kingslayer. "What have you done?" she growled. Around her a dozen Lannister men pointed their swords at them but she took no notice.
Jamie lowered his own sword and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "My quarrel is not with you, Ice Wolf." He told her. "But I will have my brother returned." As the gold cloaks circled around them struggling to gain control of the situation, Jamie gestured for his men to lower their arms. Serra, however, kept hers perfectly still. When she spoke her voice was like iron and pushed out through her clenched teeth.
"These were good men." She told him. "I should kill you for what you've done here." Jamie gestured around them, bringing her attention to soldiers ready to attack and defend if she tried anything.
"I don't think that would be a good idea." He told her, but she saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. He knew her reputation, and he wasn't sure he could beat her.
"Coward!" she spat. "Why are you hiding behind your father's men? Face me!" she craved justice for Jory and the others, for the injury done to her brother, for the insult to her family. But the Kingslayer shook his head and sheathed his sword.
"As I said, Lady Serra, my quarrel is not with you." With that he turned and mounted his horse, leading his men away down the street. The gold cloaks gathered to help the Hand to his feet, and gather up the bodies of the fallen.
Every fiber in Serra's being yelled at her to follow the disgraced Knight. She felt betrayed. She had liked Ser Jamie, even defended him, but now she wanted nothing more than to carve away his smug face. With a huff of frustration and anger she sheathed her own sword and turned toward her brother.
"What happened, Ned?" she asked him. He was leaning heavily on two gold cloaks who were leading him toward a wagon. His face was pale and whether it was from pain, blood loss, or grief she couldn't say. Likely all three.
"They ambushed us." He told her. "Ser Jamie was angry that his brother had been taken, and this is how he retaliated." Serra helped her brother into the wagon, gently lifting his injured leg to rest in front of him.
"I knew this would lead to trouble." She said sadly, as she watched the body of Jory Cassel be loaded into the back. Her mind went back to the day she watched Jory loading Lady's body into a similar wagon, and she wondered how much more death would find them here in this horrible place.
"As did I." Ned agreed, his voice weak. "But I never thought it would be this bad." One of the gold cloaks climbed into the wagon beside him and took the reins. With a cluck the wagon began moving slowly toward the keep, and Serra watched silently as it made its way down the street. Then she turned and surveyed the blood pooled on the ground, blood of good honest northern men, and wiped a tear from her eye.