Artys Arryn
The towers of Harrenhal rose high into the sky above him, nearly piercing the clouds by the look of it. Their black stone was still solid and strong despite having the look of being half melted, and at their peaks flew the nine black bats upon a yellow field of house Whent. Shaking his head at the sheer size of it all Artys looked away from the monstrous castle and glanced around himself. Dozens of colorful pavilions where huddled in the shadow of the great black fortress, splashes of color against the darkness.
Breathing deeply of the warm air Artys strode easily along the outer edge of the great walls, letting his mind wander. He'd arrived here at Harrenhal the day before, along with his father and a great column of nearly three hundred knights of the Vale. They'd all come for the first tourney of the spring, the tourney that Lord Whent was claiming would be the greatest the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.
From what Artys had seen so far their host's boasts weren't entirely baseless, only knights from the Riverlands, Vale and Westerlands had arrived so far but there where nearly seven hundred knights here to compete for the three hundred thousand gold dragons that would go to the winner of the joust. Artys had a feeling that once the men of the other kingdoms arrived they'd be closer to two thousand men vying for that purse. Lord Whent had done well to prepare though, his castle could house thousands of guests in the parts that where habitable. Not to mention he'd planned for a full ten days of festivities, seven of them jousting.
For now though there was just waiting, there where still five days until the tourney was due to begin. Sighing Artys moved among the tents, nodding to men he recognized as he did so. His father was spending today meeting with Lord Whent, apparently he'd been hoping to discuss a possible marriage contract with Hoster Tully between Artys and Lysa Tully, but the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands had declined his invitation to the tourney.
A commotion ahead of him caught Artys' attention, curious he moved towards the sounds. A large crowd was gathering at the eastern gate of the great fortress. Pushing his way through the crowd Artys cast about for what had caused the gathering. Coming up the road towards the castle was a column of some five hundred men, above them flying the banner of the royal family, the red three headed dragon on black alongside it the lion of the Lannisters and the black stag of the Baratheons, as well as the banners of dozens of minor lords from the Stormlands and the Crownlands.
Artys grinned that meant that Robert had arrived, alongside his cousin the prince it seemed, as word had been spreading that that the king wouldn't be attending, he hadn't left the capital in years after all. As they drew closer Artys' grew more impressed. Riding at the head of the column was the prince himself. Sitting tall in his saddle and wearing a fine black doublet with the sigil of his house upon the chest in beautifully embroidered red velvet. His sliver hair flowing in the light breeze alongside the resplendent black velvet cloak he wore.
Artys looked down at himself and chuckled, compared to the prince he was simply dressed, or maybe raggedly was the better word. He wore a stout leather jerkin over a light wool tunic leaving his arms mostly bare and exposing several harsh welts where Andar had managed to strike him earlier. His boots where sturdy and the simple woolen trousers he wore had a rather obvious patch on one knee. Not to mention the clothes where stained with sweat and dirt from sparring this morning, leaving him looking like little more than a common sellsword.
Flanking the prince where two men in white enameled plate, fine cloaks of snow white wool hanging limp about the hindquarters of their horses, kingsguard. The one to the prince's right was a tall man, lean and with a crossed sword and star in purple across the chest of his brilliant white surcoat. He wore no helm, exposing an angular but handsome face with black hair about his shoulders and the olive skin of a Dornishman, his eyes a luminescent violet color. Artys took in a sharp breath at the sight of the man and the hilt of the greatsword peeking over his shoulder. That was Ser Arthur Dayne, supposedly the most deadly swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms.
The other white armored man wore a helm with a black bat across the front of it, two black enamel wings sprouting from the temples. That would be Ser Oswell Whent, the younger brother of Lord Whent. He wasn't as tall as Ser Arthur, but broader across the chest.
To Prince Rhaegar's right and slightly behind him rode a tall broad shouldered man in red and gold, with bushy golden sideburns and a shaven head. A boy who couldn't have been more than sixteen riding at his side, just as tall and with golden hair, his curling about his shoulders. Lannisters, the elder had to be Tywin Lannister, the hand of the king. The younger would be his son Jaime Lannister, just knighted if Artys remembered correctly, fighting the Kingswood Brotherhood.
Robert rode just to the side of the two kingsguard and his cousin, dwarfing all three of them even on horseback. The Baratheon lord wore his armor as well, solid and unadorned grey plate under a bright yellow surcoat with the black stag of his house on the breast. As they drew closer Artys raised a hand in greeting and called out to his friend, "Robert!"
The prince and his kingsguards both turned their heads at his voice but kept riding, not even bothering to slow down. Robert on the other hand swung his horse off the road with a thunderous laugh, pulling tightly on the reins as he came abreast to Artys, "Artys! How long has it been? A year?"
Artys laughed and reached up, clasping his friend's arm in greeting, "Near to it, how are you Robert?"
Robert shook his head, "Well enough, I take it you're going to be in the joust?"
Artys nodded and glanced over Robert's shoulder, watching a beautiful wheel house trundle past, another pair of kingsguard knights riding alongside it. Looking back to Robert he smiled, "Aye I plan on it. I'm thinking of riding in the melee as well. What about you?"
Robert reached down and tapped the warhammer hanging from his saddle horn, "It's been to long since I had a chance for a good fight. I'll be riding in both, see if I can't put a crown of winter roses on Lyanna's head."
Lyanna, Artys winced internally at the mention of her. He tried to avoid it but he thought of the Stark girl often, and had spent more than one night over the last year dreaming of that night in the godswood. Shaking his head Artys pushed those thoughts away and smiled at his friend, turning and walking alongside Robert's horse as he made his way through the gates of Harrenhal, "You'll have to win first, and from what I've seen that won't be easy."
Robert threw his head back and gave another of his thunderous laughs, "Oh I gathered that already, the Sword of the Morning, the prince, Barristan the Bold, they're all riding in the joust. It'll be a challenge for the ages."
Artys chuckled, "You're forgetting Bronze Yohn, the White Bull, Lewyn Martell, and another half of the kingdom." The two of them passed through the cavernous gateway, between two gatehouses as large as the Eyrie's main keep.
Beside him Artys heard Robert snort, "Actually I spoke to the prince, the White Bull is staying back in King's Landing with the king. Him and Jon Darry are going to be guarding him while Rhaegar is here with the rest of the kingsguard."
Artys did a quick mental count, "That's only six. What about Grandison?"
Robert waved one gauntleted hand dismissively, "Dead. Died in his sleep barely a month ago. Would have thought the king would be coming here to find a replacement, but he isn't budging from King's Landing." Artys was slightly put off by the dismissive attitude Robert had towards the dead knight but kept his peace.
Both men went silent as they entered into the courtyard, Prince Rhaegar, the kingsguard, and the Lannisters where already dismounted and speaking with Lord Whent, Artys' father standing near the entrance to the keep looking on. The great wheelhouse was just slowing to a stop, the two kingsguard who had been flanking it now standing flanking the door.
One of them, an aging Dornishman carrying a long spear reached up and rapped gently on the door. After a moment it opened a slender woman with the same olive skin as the Dornish kingsguard stepped out. She was beautiful, with long black hair coiled around her shoulders and deep black pools for eyes. Yet there was a frailty about her, a gauntness about the face and a sickly cast to her skin. As she stepped down the elderly Dornishman reached up and took her hand, helping the woman down gently. It was only then that Artys noticed what she clutched to her chest, a bundle that could only be a babe, red dragons embroidered on its blankets and a tuft of silvery hair showing out the end.
Robert nodded as he saw Artys' watching the woman, "That's the princess, Ellia. Seems like a fine woman, sickly though. Still hasn't quiet recovered from having her lad."
Behind Princess Ellia came a small girl, no more than three, with the same dark hair and a touch of olive color to her skin. The girl looked about excitedly, a wide grin plastered about her face. A grin that only widened as she saw Prince Rhaegar, with a happy giggle the girl ran towards him. Seeing her the prince gave a happy smile and caught the girl, swinging her up into the air above his head and laughing as the girl squealed. Artys smiled seeing it, judging from Rhaegar's reaction the girl had to be his daughter, Rhaenys.
Looking back to the carriage Artys felt his smile vanish, replaced by a slack jawed look, however he was only vaguely aware of it. Exiting the wheelhouse was perhaps the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. Tall, with the olive hued skin of the Dornish, though somewhat lighter than the princess and the older kingsguard. She was lean and graceful, but lacked the frailness that Princess Ellia had about her. Her face was breathtaking, a mischievous smile only enhancing it, her violet eyes sparkling with laughter as she watched the prince and his daughter. Something in her eyes reminded Artys of Lyanna, and he found himself drawn to the woman.
Robert's voice pulled Artys from his thoughts, the big man laughing softly, "I see you've spotted her then. That's Ashara Dayne, the Sword of the Morning's sister. She's Ellia's handmaiden." Robert continued to chuckle, "She's a sight I'll admit. Though she turned me down so I can't say she has good taste in men."
That sucked some of the happiness from Artys, Robert talking about trying to dishonor Lyanna in the middle of a crowded courtyard. Shaking his head Artys looked at his friend and sighed, which only earned him a confused glance. Looking back towards the prince's party he was startled to see a pair of violet eyes looking back at him. Ashara Dayne was looking at him with an appraising expression on her face and when she caught his gaze she gave him a small smile before looking away.
Robert reached over and cuffed Artys about the shoulder his previous confusion forgotten, "You lucky bastard. She hasn't even been here a day and you've already caught her eye."
Artys looked at his friend, now it was his turn to be confused. It was just a passing look was all. Shaking his head Robert chuckled and dismounted, not saying a word despite Artys' questioning look. Once more looking back Artys realized that a third lady had exited the wheelhouse. Another beautiful woman, though Artys thought she paled in comparison to Ashara.
The third woman was younger, not as tall as Ashara but more slender, with fair skin and long golden hair that nearly reached her waist. Her dress was striking crimson, cut more daring than any other lady's in the courtyard and with a golden lion on the front. Artys instantly guessed at who she was, Cersei Lannister, the girl his father had been speaking of marrying him to. Cersei scanned the courtyard disdainfully, as if all within it where beneath her. Though she smiled when she saw Prince Rhaegar and her brother. Already Artys decided he didn't much care for her, she seemed far to arrogant to him.
A movement at the corner of his eye caught Artys attention, and he glanced over to see his father urgently gesturing to him. Making a quick farewell to Robert with a promise to meet him later for a drink and some sparring Artys strode around the edge of the royal party to his father. Father was situated in a wide doorway overlooking the courtyard, and as Artys approached he slid over slightly to make room beside him. Artys resisted the urge to roll his eyes when his father cast a curious glance at his clothes then raised an eyebrow, "I was sparring father, I didn't have time to change."
Father frowned, "Well you certainly won't make a good impression on Lord Tywin or the prince dressed like that. But it will have to do for now." His voice was low, a conspiratorial whisper as Prince Rhaegar stood not five paces away speaking with Lord Whent. Jerking his chin slightly to Lord Tywin, now standing with both his children father spoke again, "That would be Cersei Lannister. What do you think of her?"
Artys mulled over his response for a moment, "Pretty enough I suppose. Something about her seems...off though."
His father glanced at him suspiciously, "Pretty enough? The lass is radiant boy." When his father looked back Artys actually did roll his eyes. His father had only heard the first part of what he said and even that didn't seem to matter to him. Dimly he realized his father was speaking again, "Even if she was ugly as a mule it'd be a worthwhile marriage, her dowry will be the largest in the bloody kingdom I tell you."
Leaning in closer Artys whispered to his father, his eyes locked on Ashara Dayne as she was greeted by Lord Whent, "What about her father? Ashara Dayne." Once the words came out of his mouth he was surprised by his own boldness, he'd never even spoken to the woman for seven's sake.
A musing silence followed as his father chewed absently at the corner of his mouth, "Dayne...Dayne. One of the more powerful houses in Dorne aren't they? Up in the Red Mountains?" Artys nodded, his stomach tying itself in knots as his father carried on, "Not much of an alliance, though her family seems to be high in the Prince's favor I'll grant you."
Another pause, during which Artys had to flick his gaze away as Ashara glanced their way, "I'll consider it Artys. Though I'd much prefer the Lannister girl to tell the truth. I'll speak with Lord Lannister and see if I can't arrange a meeting with him about a betrothal, allow you to meet Lady Cersei." Artys nodded slowly, wondering what that would be like.
Then the prince was there, his daughter at his side clutching his hand in her tiny one. Rhaegar was a tall man, the top of his head even with Artys' chin, lean and muscular. He had a slightly melancholy look about him yet was smiling politely as he greeted Artys' father, "Lord Arryn, a pleasure to meet you my lord."
Father bowed low, hiding the slight pain in his eyes as he did so, "The pleasure is all mine your grace. Have you met my son, Artys?" He gestured to Artys, drawing the prince's attention away from him.
Rhaegar turned to Artys, "No, I don't believe I've had the honor." He gave a slight bow, taking in Artys' clothes as he did so. There was a hint of good natured amusement in his eyes as he straightened.
Artys managed his own bow struggling momentarily to find the words, "Your grace." He winced as he heard his voice crack. Turning to the small girl at Rhaegar's side he managed a slight smile, "I assume this lovely lady is your daughter your grace?"
The little girl giggled and tried to hide behind her father, and the somewhat faked smile Prince Rhaegar had been wearing vanished, replaced by a smaller but genuine one as he pulled the girl gently forward. She looked down at her feet still smiling as her father spoke, "Aye she is. This is Princess Rhaenys."
Artys knelt down and caught the little princess's gaze, "A pleasure to meet you my lady. I'm surprised they let one as fair as you out of the Red Keep."
Once more Rhaenys giggled and grinned at him, showing several missing teeth, "Thank you ser." That said she released her father's hand and scampered back towards her mother, hiding behind her skirts. Straightening Artys caught Ashara Dayne looking at him once more, another smile upon her lips.
Flushing slightly he turned to the prince, "A fine girl your grace, she'll grow into a great beauty no doubt."
Rhaegar nodded, smiling slightly still as he watched her go, "I agree Ser Artys." Turning back to Artys he nodded down at his clothes, "I see you where training, I take it to mean you plan on participating in the joust?"
Artys nodded, "Aye your grace, and the melee as well. What of you? Do you plan to compete?"
The prince chuckled softly, "Only the joust I'm afraid. I've not the inclination or the courage for melees, and even if I did Ser Arthur refuses to allow me to participate."
A voice came from over Rhaegar's shoulder, and only then did Artys notice Ser Arthur Dayne standing behind the prince, "Melees are to chaotic your grace, there would be to great a chance of you being injured, or killed. Just look at what happened to Baelor Breakspear." The tall Dornish knight sounded extremely serious, though there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. His eyes however where watchful, flicking about the courtyard, scanning every face for danger.
Rhaegar waved his hand, "Baelor didn't die in a melee Arthur. It was a trial of seven, and a particularly bloodthirsty one I might add."
Ser Arthur nodded, still smiling slightly as he looked Artys up and down as if sizing him up, "True your grace, though my argument stands."
Rhaegar chuckled and shook his head, then reached out a hand to clasp, "It was a pleasure to meet you Ser Artys, may the Seven grant you fortune in the competitions."
Slightly dumbfounded Artys took the offered arm and nodded, "My thanks your grace, may they smile upon your lance." Then just like he'd appeared, he was gone, the prince vanishing into the crowd in the courtyard. Artys couldn't help but like the man he'd just met, he seemed intelligent and kindhearted from the brief interaction they'd had.
After a moment Artys was broken from his thoughts as his father approached him, he hadn't even realized that he'd gone from the doorway. His father settled back in beside him looking rather pleased with himself, "I've arranged a meeting with Lord Tywin tomorrow around midday. While I speak with him you will meet his daughter and speak with her." Nodding silently Artys glanced across the courtyard one last time, eyes settling once again on Ashara Dayne. He'd meet with the Lannister girl, though he had sinking feeling he wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much as his father hoped.
Grunting Artys knocked aside a blow of Robert's warhammer with his shield, feeling the impact up his arm and into his shoulder and chest as the heavy weapon struck. Stepping forward he swung his ax high, not even bothering to watch the weapon's progress as he ducked his head to avoid the pommel of Robert's hammer swinging for his nose. A dull crunch sounded and Artys suppressed a grin as he felt the impact of his ax. Stepping to the side to avoid a possible counter strike he lifted his head and drew back his ax again for another strike.
He was greeted with the sight of Robert stumbling back, cursing and favoring his shoulder as he did so, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. Grinning still behind his own visor Artys sprang after him, ax darting out for his friends wrist. Only for Robert to straighten and drop one hand from his hammer, launching himself into a straight left jab that caught Artys in the visor of his helmet. Sending him stumbling backwards in his own turn.
Cursing Artys shook his head and swung his shield across to meet the hammer blow he knew must be coming. His reward was another shock up his already sore and tired arm. Clearing his vision he saw Robert had overextended himself, the hammer out to wide to defend him, a product of the blow Artys had just blocked. Artys didn't spare a thought about if it was another trick and brought his ax over, this fight had to end now, one way or another.
Once again Robert wound up cursing, this time as the heavy tourney ax smacked him on the side of the head and sent him to one knee. Kicking the hammer from Robert's grasp Artys stood over him and raised his ax for another blow. Seeing it Robert raised one hand in surrender, the other scrabbling at the side of his now dented sparring helm.
Lowering his weapon Artys tossed it aside and reached down to help his friend, loosening the strap enough for Robert to tear the helmet off. Standing the Baratheon man rubbed at his head and glared at Artys, "Did you have to hit so damn hard? Think you cracked my fucking helmet." As he spoke he rolled his shoulder, emphasizing his point.
Artys shrugged, "Sorry. Not used to using an ax. I hate the damn things to be honest." Reaching down he unstrapped his shield and tossed it aside to land atop the ax he'd just discarded.
Robert snorted and shook his head, "Then why are you using it? Just use a tourney sword." Kneeling he retrieved his training hammer, then levered himself back to his feet with a grunt.
Removing his helmet Artys snorted, "It's a melee Robert. Axes are better for it than swords, more power behind each swing. Means I can put someone on their ass easier."
This time his friend rumbled in agreement as he strode towards his tent just a few paces away, "I've got an extra hammer somewhere if you're looking for something to put men on their asses."
Following after him Artys chuckled, "I can't use one of those, I plan on using a shield. Unlike you I don't much care for getting hit in the head with maces." Robert growled as he poured himself a goblet of wine from a flagon on a stand outside his tent, offering one to Artys as he did so. Artys waved a hand dismissively, "No, I'm to meet with my father in an hour. He wants me to go with him to meet with Tywin Lannister about a betrothal between me and his daughter. Father won't be pleased if I smell like wine."
Robert smiled as he took a sip, "Cersei Lannister eh? I saw her on the journey here, gorgeous lass, fine tits. Ones you just want to grab."
Artys rolled his eyes, "I won't even bother responding to that. But my problems not her looks, there's something about her that's, off. She seems like an arrogant one."
This time he got a nod as Robert took a deeper swig, "Oh aye, I heard from one of her maids that she's a bitch." At Artys' questioning look Robert just smiled wider and took another drink, draining the cup.
Sighing Artys glanced up at the sun, it was midmorning, a little over an hour till he was to meet his father, "I should go find a bath. Need to wash all the dust off me from knocking your ass in the dirt." Robert growled mockingly and threw the now empty goblet at him, only to find it blocked by Artys' raised arm.
Chuckling Artys strode away from Robert's tent and towards the castle. The bathhouses there where always running, the water kept hot by great furnaces beneath the pools that Lord Whent was keeping full at what Artys could only imagine was great expense. A quick stop at his tent along the way found him out of his sparring armor and carrying a new set of clean clothes.
An half hour later Artys found himself back at his tent, checking his reflection in the breastplate of his armor. His hair was still damp and a ragged mess though he'd managed to get the beard he'd been growing since his trip to Winterfell into some sort of order. His father had chosen what he was to wear today, something to do with not dressing like a hedge knight and looking respectable. So Artys found himself in a fine blue dyed lambskin doublet with velvet trim, wearing grey woolen breeches that felt far to tight and a pair of fine black boots up to his knees. A silver falcon pin held his lovely grey wool cloak in place.
Rolling his shoulders Artys tried to settle the clothing, it fit well enough but the cut was strange, the latest fashion in court no doubt. A cough behind him drew his attention, and he turned to find his father looking him over, "Not bad son, not bad."
Giving a joking smile to his father Artys tugged at his sleeve, "So you say, but I can barely breathe in these things."
Father chuckled and shook his head, "You've spent to much time with Ned and Robert, always wanting to go around in hunting leathers or worse, armor." Stepping closer his father reached out and handed him an exquisitely wrought sword belt and sheath, black leather with silver chasing and a silver falcon and moon buckle, "A gift from your cousin Denys, it was for your name day but we thought you'd want it now."
Artys marveled at the belt as he took it, for all its beauty it was obviously meant for actual wearing too, sturdy and light as it was. Strapping the belt on he strode across his tent to where his sword hung in its battered sheath and belt. Taking the blade he slid it into its new home and glanced at his father, who nodded approvingly.
Giving him one last glance his father nodded, "Very good. Now lets not delay, Lord Tywin will be waiting for us." Without another word he turned and strode out of the tent, leaving Artys to trail after him, still tugging at the sleeves of his doublet.
The walk to the Lannister's quarters was a rather long one, they'd been given a series of spacious room inside one of the towers of the castle. Along the way Artys spotted workmen putting the finishing touches on massive rows of seats for the joust, seemingly enough to seat half the kingdom. His father didn't speak as he walked, even when they reached the door to Lord Tywin's temporary solar he remained silent, merely nodding to the two guardsmen in Lannister colors as one entered the room to announce their arrival.
The guard returned after a moment, nodding at them as he opened the door. Stepping in Artys raised his eyebrows in surprise. Lord Whent had given the Hand fine chambers indeed. The walls where covered in fine tapestries depicting some battle from history, looking closer Artys guessed perhaps the Redgrass field. A beautifully made table dominated the center of the room, gilded plates and cups resting on the tabletop, and expensive Myrish rugs covered the floor.
Lord Tywin himself was seated at the table as Artys and his father entered, his children flanking him, though they stood to greet them as Tywin spoke, "Lord Arryn, and you must be Ser Artys." Artys noted the Lannister lord's voice, deep and commanding, but cold. Tywin cast his eyes over Artys, looking him up and down like a horse he was trying to decide upon buying. After a moment he gestured to either side of himself, "Allow me to introduce my heir, Jaime, and my daughter Cersei." Both of his children nodded politely but said not a word as their father gestured to them.
Artys' father tilted his head in greeting, "My lord hand. A pleasure to see you again. Ser Jaime, Lady Cersei, it is an honor to meet you." Artys snuck a glance at the younger Lannisters as his father spoke, Ser Jaime looked supremely bored, his eyes far away. Cersei on the other hand was watching with interest, her eyes flickering between Artys and his father, not a calculating as her father's gaze perhaps but with a certain cunning to them Artys noted.
Tywin nodded face now expressionless as he gestured to a pair of chairs across the table from him and sat, his children following suit. Leaning forward in his chair Lord Tywin gestured to a large decanter in the middle of the table, "Wine Lord Arryn?" Father shook his head and Lord Tywin settled back in his chair, a small measure of respect now showing on his face, "To business then."
Father nodded and glanced at Artys, "Aye my lord. Though perhaps you and I should discuss that privately? Artys and your children could adjourn elsewhere and speak among themselves? I'm sure none of them have any interest in business deals."
Tywin cocked and eyebrow but said nothing, merely nodding as he gestured to his children to leave. Standing Artys followed them out the door, once it closed behind him he glanced at the twins. Cersei looked back at him curiously as Jaime once more glanced about, bored. Coughing Artys spoke, "Ser Jaime, Lady Cersei. How was your journey here from King's Landing?"
Cersei smiled slightly in amusement, and Artys cursed himself, why in the hells couldn't he think of something better to say? Ser Jaime flicked a hand in annoyance, "Long, and boring I'm afraid. Though I sparred with your friend Lord Robert. Quiet a formidable fellow."
Artys nodded dumbly, mind struggling for words, "Aye he is. I fear I'll end up facing him in the melee once the tourney begins, and I can't say that I relish the thought." He gave what he hoped came off as an easy grin as he rubbed at his shoulder, still sore from the sparring match earlier.
Jaime led the way a short distance down the hall to another door, pushing it open to reveal another lavish solar, with a smaller table than his father's within. A spark of interest entered his voice as he walked to the table, Artys and his sister trailing behind, "You mean to enter the melee then? The joust as well I take it?"
Artys nodded, "The joust as well. What of you? Do you plan on jousting as well?"
Then Cersei spoke for the first time, "Jaime will be in the joust and the melee, and he'll win both of them. Then he'll name me his queen of love and beauty. Jaime's the finest knight in the realm. The king even plans to name him to the kingsguard." That stopped Artys in his tracks, he'd been expecting some boasting from Jaime but not from Cersei.
Regaining his composure he frowned, "The kingsguard? I can't imagine your father is to pleased about that. You're his heir after all."
Jaime glared at his twin, "My father doesn't know yet, and besides the king has not decided yet as to the kingsguard."
Artys caught a glimpse of Cersei rolling her eyes out of the corner of his eye and wracked his mind for another conversation topic, trying to think of a way to draw the Lannister girl into the conversation. As he opened his mouth to speak though the door to the room slammed open. His father stood in the doorway, looking supremely annoyed, "Artys, with me. We need to return to our camp."
Fighting back confusion Artys rose from where he sat and nodded respectfully at the Lannister twins before following his father. They stormed through the keep, his father refusing to say a word until they where outside, "The pompous bastard! Tywin refused to even speak of a betrothal between you and Cersei. He claims his daughter is fit only for a prince!"
Silently Artys wished whatever prince was stuck with Cersei good luck, he'd only heard the girl speak a single sentence and he already didn't like her. As they walked his father raged and grumbled, but Artys just smiled and shook his head, thinking forwards towards the tourney to come.
Author's Note: So here we are another chapter. I've come to the realization after writing this one that I likely need a proof reader to catch all the mistakes I'm probably making and to double check this and make sure it's all rolling good. If anyone would be interested in the job please PM me. But we're finally starting to cover some ground towards Robert's Rebellion, even if Harrenhal is at this point planned to cover maybe four chapters. Also, at this point I can only see one possible way for Artys and Lyanna to end up together, I won't spoil it but I'm wondering if there might be other ways that I'm just not seeing, if anyone has any suggestions in that area I'm all ears. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you for reading.
-S