Hello readers. I apologize for the long wait; life was getting in the way. Regardless, here is the next chapter, and enjoy.
The Dothraki caravan was riding through the fields until they reached two giant statues of horses, meaning they had arrived at their destination. Vaes Dothrak. Khal Drogo and his bloodriders approached the stone gates before riding down the road, cheering as their horses galloped away as Dany, Areon, Viserys, and Ser Jorah, on their horses, watched them.
"Vaes Dothrak," Ser Jorah declared, "The city of the Horselords."
"This is where all the Dothraki are," Areon asked.
Jorah nods, "Yes, my prince. Every Dothraki rider will be there."
"A pile of mud," Viserys scoffed with disdain, "mud and shit and twigs. Best these savages can do."
"These are my people now," Daenerys scolds at him, "You shouldn't call them savages."
Viserys sneers at her, "I'll call them what I like because they're my people. This is my army. Khal Drogo is marching the wrong way with my army."
"They're Khal Drogo's army," Areon glares at him, "An army we needed. That's why you married Dany to him, remember."
Viserys gave him a hateful glare as he urged his horse to gallop away as Dany, Areon, and Jorah rode at a regular pace.
"I thought he was supposed to be in the cart like Drogo said," Areon complained.
Ser Jorah said, "He desired to be on a horse which the Dothraki consider a great honor."
"If our brother was given an army of Dothraki," Dany asked Jorah, "could you conquer the Seven Kingdoms?"
Jorah tells her, "The Dothraki have never crossed the Narrow Sea. They fear any water their horses can't drink."
"Does that include seawater," Areon asked as Jorah nodded yes. "Did Viserys know that before he wedded Daenerys to Khal Drogo?"
"I cannot say, my prince," Jorah tells him.
This confused Areon. The whole point of their marriage was to get an army, cross the Narrow Sea, and take back the Iron Throne. Now he was hearing that the Dothraki fear the water. How are they supposed to get to Westeros if the Dothraki won't cross the Narrow Sea? If they had no intention of crossing the sea, what was the point of Dany and Drogo's marriage?
"But if they did?" Daenerys asked.
Ser Jorah looks at her, "King Robert is fool enough to meet them in open battle, but the men advising him are different."
"How so," Areon asked.
Jorah tells him, "They overestimate their number of forces and that foreign savages would be easy to defeat."
"But you said the Dothraki see war as a sport," Areon asked him.
"Yes, they do," Jorah confirms, "But not many men know that."
Dany asks Jorah, "And you know these men?".
"I fought beside them once, long ago." He tells her, "Now Ned Stark wants my head. He drove me from my land."
Areon reminds him, "Because you sold slaves?"
"Aye," he acknowledges with a stoic face.
"Why did you do that," Areon asked, wanting to know why.
"I had no money," Jorah explains, "and an expensive wife."
"And where is she now?" Daenerys asked.
"In another place, with another man," he answered.
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Once settled in Vaes Dothrak, Areon decided to see Viserys. He usually doesn't want to, but they needed to discuss something. Hearing Ser Jorah telling him how Dothraki fear the ocean made him think of why they married their sister to the Khal. As he gets into Viserys's tent, Areon sees his brother getting ready for a bath as some maids have a tub in and making the water ready.
"Getting ready for a bath," Areon asked.
Viserys scoffed, "To get this stench off of me, yes."
"We're in a city filled with horses, Viserys," Areon tells him, "I doubt the smell will leave us with a simple bath."
"Of course, you would know," Viserys sneers at him, "As my squire, you drew dozens of baths. Before you abandoned your duties."
"I apologize if I didn't like all the beatings," Areon argues with his arms crossed.
"Punishments to make you do things right," Viserys counters, "As a squire, you should know that."
"Squire," Areon rolls his eyes. He was Viserys's squire, but Areon always felt more of a slave with the way Viserys treats him, "More like a slave."
"I don't see the difference," Viserys waves off.
"I'm not here to talk about that," Areon decides to change the subject, "Because we need to talk about going to Westeros and reclaiming the Iron Throne."
Viserys suddenly looks at his younger brother, "Go on."
"I just heard from Ser Jorah that the Dothraki never cross the Narrow Sea and fear any water their horses don't drink."
"That's what you came to tell me," Viserys asked, annoyed by this, "Some stupid superstition about them and their horses?"
"They don't cross the Narrow Sea," Areon repeats, seeing that Viserys didn't get it, "Did you know about that?"
"Why would I care," Viserys chuckles.
Areon eyes widen at how little Viserys thinks about this, "Viserys, the whole point of Dany's marriage to Khal Drogo was because he was going to give us an army to take back our home. How will that happen when they don't go over the ocean?"
"We had an agreement," Viserys reasons, "I gave Drogo a queen, and he'll give me a crown."
"Are you sure," Areon questions, "Because we've been traveling with them for months now, and we are no closer to getting home."
"Remember what Illyrio said," Viserys said, "They won't go unless their ridiculous omens favor war."
"Are you even sure if that will happen once they get this omen, Viserys," Areon exclaimed, "Did you even put actual thought into this?"
"Do not raise your voice to me," Viserys exclaimed, getting angry by these words, as he got closer to Areon.
"Why shouldn't I," Areon angrily questioned, "We basically sold off our little sister like a broodmare to a warlord, and you didn't even care enough to get all the facts because you are so desperate enough and stupid enough to do so!"
Suddenly Viserys grabs him by the throat, squeezing tightly as Areon tries to claw his way out while gasping for air, "I have spent years trying to get back to Westeros, living off of scraps on the streets, entertaining hosts to help us, begging like a dog for a bone and now I am close enough to salvage our dynasty and take back the throne. My dynasty, my throne. You are nothing more than a small ounce of waste I had to endure, carrying on my back. And instead of being grateful, you show me disrespect and ungratefulness. Step out of line again, and I will show how ungrateful I can be." And with that, he let go of Areon's throat as the young man collapsed on the floor, taking deep breaths as he tried to collect himself. Viserys then grabbed his hair and dragged him out of the tent, and threw him to the ground before going back in. Areon coughed as the pain from his throat was still throbbing. He looks back to the tent with nothing but hatred for Viserys. He was the reason why they were stuck with the Dothraki, for his obsession with the Iron Throne, something they might never get back.
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"It's the Hand's Tournament that's causing all this trouble, my lords and lady," Janos Slynt said to the small council as he was the captain of the City Watch.
Ned, rubbing his forehead in annoyance, corrected, "The King's Tournament. I assure you the Hand wants no part of it."
"Call it what you will, Lord Stark, Ser," Ser Janos said, "The city is packed with people and more flooding every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters."
"Dreadful," Varys shakes his head.
"If you can't keep the king's peace," Renly casually said while eating a grape from his plate, "Perhaps the city watch should be commanded by someone who can."
"I highly doubt changing captains would do anything considering all the people of the realm are coming to the city," Hellen inserts herself, "First, we need to see what is needed before making any changes. That is what you are asking us, Ser Janos?"
"Quite right, my lady," Janos answered with gratitude, "I need more men."
"You'll get 50," Ned answered, "Lord Baelish will see it paid for."
"I will," Baelish asked with surprise.
"You found money for a champion's purse," Ned reasoned sternly, "you can find money to keep the peace. I'll also give you 20 of my household guard until the crowds leave."
"Thank you, my Lord Hand, ser," Janos thanked, "They will be put to good use."
After the captain bowed his head and left, Ned drank his cup, "The sooner this is over, the better."
"I highly doubt that," Hellen interjects herself as all the men look at her, "We're paying money that we don't have to get more men in the City Watch and having a tourney that we can't afford," Hellen listed, "Does anyone else see any long-term problems down the road?"
"The realm prospers from such events, my lady," Varys tells him, "They give the great a chance at glory and the lowly a respite from their woes."
"And every inn in the city is full," Baelish added, "and the whores are walking bow-legged."
"I'm sure the tourney puts coins in many a pocket," Ned waves off.
"Yes, their pockets while draining our own," Hellen interjects, "and causes more problems than relief. I'm just saying we might need to put all of our focus on trying to relieve the debt the crown has before it buries us if it hasn't already."
"I'm sure you might find some coin with all the trade agreements you've been overseeing, sister," Renly dismisses her, "Or your husband might provide aid."
Wanting to end the conversation, Ned said, "If there's nothing else, my lords, my lady?"
All the lords stood up and bowed to Ned before leaving, except for Hellen, who quickly left the room. No doubt angry from the way all the men dismissed her conversation.
Hellen walks through the halls of the Red Keep to her brother's chambers, wishing to speak with him. As she entered the room, she saw her brother laughing with a servant girl in his lap. The fat King and his serving girl stopped laughing when they saw Hellen coming in.
"A moment of your time," Hellen asked courteously.
"Ah. Fine, go," Robert ordered the serving girl, who quickly got off his lap and left in a hurry.
After the doors closed, Hellen walked closer to her eldest brother, "Your new favorite?"
"Well, she has good breasts," Robert heartily chuckles.
Hellen rolls her eyes in disgust, hating Robert's behavior, but ignores it, "We need to talk about the governing of the realm."
"Ah, that's your job in that," Robert complains as he pours a pitcher of wine into his large cup to drink.
"You are the king," Hellen reminds him, "It is your responsibility."
Robert sighs with annoyance, knowing his sister is never going away until they talk, "Fine. What is it do you wish to speak of?"
"Do you know that your tourney is costing us millions of coins, raising the debt even higher," Hellen asked.
"It's for Ned," Robert answers, "To celebrate his office as Hand of the King."
"He does all the work as we do, and you sit on your ass doing nothing," Hellen bluntly puts it, "He doesn't even want a tourney because he understands the more important matters. Not to mention that people are coming into the city day after day, causing chaos in the city."
"Then let the city watch take care of it," Robert waves off, gulping down his wine.
It was a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings, and a drunken horse race," Hellen listed, "Robert, there are serious matters for you to attend."
"I have councilors for that," Robert reminds her.
Hellen says, "Robert, you are the King of the Seven Kingdoms. This isn't a way for you to screw around."
"I am the King," Robert exclaimed at her, "So you would be wise to remember that. You and that old husband of yours," He drinks his cup again as Hellen shakes her head with pity and disgust.
Seeing no talking to him, she got up and left the room before slamming the door. She rubbed her hand through her hair with frustration as the conversation went exactly as she thought it would. She couldn't believe how her brother had become the way he was now. When they were younger, she worshipped Robert as he was tall, strong, and muscular. He fought a rebellion and won the crown. Ever since her father and mother died in a shipwreck, she always looked to him for help, but now he has become a shell of the man he used to be. Now he is fat, lazy, drunk, and serving no purpose in his role as king, which furthers her belief that he should not be king. And her brothers were no help at all. It has been months since Ned became Hand, and Stannis was still at Dragonstone. Renly does nothing to help at all; it is as if she is the only one doing anything to help govern the realm. At times like this, she wished her husband was with her. Lord Jonathor was an intelligent man who always did what suited the family, mainly their sons. Although she must admit, the methods he uses are a bit much for her, such as her youngest son being so far away from her for a specific purpose, more specifically, what Jonathor wants him to do, which was frightening for her. Her thoughts were interrupted as Ned Stark was walking in the opposite direction.
"My lady," Ned greeted, "I see you've spoken with the king."
"I said I would," Hellen said, "It took some time, but I did, and it went exactly how I imagined it."
"He won't cancel the tourney," Ned asked.
"He has no interest in speaking with anyone that disagrees with him," Hellen admits, "Honestly, I have no idea how the realm hasn't fallen apart yet."
"Thank you for trying," Ned thanked her as she nodded as she was about to leave, but he had another question, "I was hoping you could assist me with something else."
Hellen turns to him, "Such as?"
"Were you close to Jon Arryn before his death," Ned asked her.
Hellen looks at him, confused, "We have been acquainted. Why?"
"I heard that Jon Arryn spoke with Maester Pycelle the night before he died," Ned explains to her, "Do you know why?"
Hellen looked apprehensive, and Ned noticed, "No, I don't."
"But did he say anything about a phrase called, 'the seed is strong'" Ned then asked.
Hellen then nods, "I remember him speaking with me about it. He was talking about how many bastards Robert had."
"Bastards," Ned asked.
"He sleeps with dozens of women a week," Hellen tells him, "Do you expect him not to have any little ones running around the realm."
"Where are they," Ned asks more curiously.
Hellen begins to think, "I know there are two in the Vale, another in the Riverlands. And I remember Robert wanting a daughter to come to court to be Cass's lady-in-waiting, but Cersei ended that. One in the city works as an apprentice for a blacksmith. A boy."
"Where can I find him," Ned asked as Hellen told him where the find the boy in the city.
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"This is pointless," Areon tells Dany as she prepares her hut. Over the past few months, the relationship between the Targaryen sibling have been more strained than ever with their brother, and Dany wants to fix it.
"It might do us good," Dany reasons, "He's still our brother."
Areon gives an angry look, "He treated us like dirt. Yelling at us, beating us, hurting us. I was supposed to be his squire but felt more like his slave."
Dany looks down at the floor, taking what Areon said, "I know. But he still protected us all these years. He always looked out for us when we were thrown out on the streets."
Areon crossed his arms, "How did he look out for us, Dany? By beating us. Or selling you off to a warlord that might not even get us home."
Dany tries to find an answer, but her maids, Irri and Doreah, come in with food for the dinner she was planning with her brothers. After everything was set, Dany asked Doreah to tell Viserys she would like to invite him to supper with her and Areon. A few minutes passed as Areon and Dany heard a woman crying in pain, revealing that Doreah was dragged back to the tent.
"You bring this whore to give me commands," Viserys bellowed as he threw Doreah to the ground, "I should've sent you back her head."
"Forgive me, Khaleesi. I did as you asked," Doreah cries in pain.
"Hush now. It's all right." Daenerys assures her, "Irri, take her and leave us."
"Yes, Khaleesi," Irri helps Doreah stand up to leave the tent.
Areon looks at Viserys with fury, "Why did you hurt her? She was following orders."
"How many times must I say it," Viserys grows at him, "No one commands me!"
"I wasn't commanding you," Dany steps in between her brothers, hoping to stop them from fighting, "I just wanted to invite you and Areon to supper."
Viserys saw the Western cuisine until glancing at the trunk where gold and clothes were. "What's this?"
"It's a gift," Daenerys tells him softly. "I had it made for you."
Viserys throws the leather vest, "Dothraki rags? Are you going to dress me now?"
"Please," Daenerys pleaded.
"Viserys enough," Areon steps in front of Dany in a protective stance.
"This stinks' of manure," Viserys then yells, throwing all of Dany's gifts at his brother. "All of it."
"Viserys, stop it," Areon yells at him as he tries to shield Dany from the blows as she begs him to stop.
Viserys shoves Areon aside as he goes straight to Dany, "You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? Next, you'll want to braid my hair."
"You've no right to a braid. You've won no victories yet." Daenerys snaps.
Viserys eyes widen with anger at her words, "You do not talk back to me!" He then smacks her hard enough to make her fall to the floor as he gets on her. "You are a horselord's slut. And now you've woken the dragon."
Viserys's hair is immediately pulled back as Areon pulls him off of his sister, "Leave her alone!" he yells, but Viserys then grabs Areon by the hair. The next thing Dany knew was that her brothers were now fighting as they yanked each other's hair, punching, hitting, and striking each other until they were both on the ground, rolling until Viserys was on Areon. Just before the older brother was about to hit Areon, Dany grabs a gold belt, striking Viserys in the head. As he exclaims in pain, Viserys gets off of Areon and falls to the floor before getting up to see Daenerys hit him.
"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki!" Daenerys proclaims while blocking him from Areon. "I am the wife of the great Khal, and I carry his son inside me. The next time you raise a hand to either of us will be the last time you have hands. "'
Viserys and Areon look at their sister with shock. Never had they seen her like this before. So confident and strong. Areon wasn't sure if the child she was carrying gave her that strength or whatever else it was, but it was clear that she no longer feared Viserys.
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"I hit him," Dany says, unsure what to feel, "I hit the dragon."
"Viserys is no dragon," Areon scoffs with hatred at his brother.
"Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon," Ser Jorah said. "Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake."
"He is still the true king," Dany reminds them.
"The truth now," Ser Jorah asked, "do you want to see your brother sitting on the Iron Throne?"
Dany and Areon look at each other. Since Viserys wasn't with them, they can finally be honest with each other as they both say, "No."
"But the common people are waiting for him," Daenerys tells Jorah. "Illyrio said they are sewing dragon banners and praying for his return."
"Dany, I don't think that's true," Areon tells his sister, "Illyrio is just a politician, like the rest of them, saying what we want to hear for their benefit. And I think you know that as well as I do."
"The common people pray for rain, health, and a never-ending summer." Ser Jorah supports Areon. "They don't care what games the high lords play."
Areon looks to Jorah and asks, "What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?"
"Home," Jorah tells him.
"We pray for home too," Areon said, "But Viserys will never take back the Seven Kingdoms, will he? He couldn't lead an army even if Khal Drogo gave him one." He sees Dany giving him a soft look, "Come on, Dany. We're all thinking about it. Drogo is never going to cross the Narrow Sea. We'll never get back home," He then looks to Jorah, "Will he?"
Ser Jorah stares at him intently, "I cannot say, my prince."
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The time of the Hand's Tournament had begun as all of King's Landing came to the city. All were waiting for the tourney to start as the participants prepared themselves. In the middle of the audience was a grand dais for the royal family. The King, with his youngest son and daughter, Tommen, and Myrcella, on his right side. Next to Robert was Queen Cersei with their eldest son and daughter, Joffrey, and Cassana. Everyone else was in the audience seats along with Sansa as she, Arya, and their Septa were sitting was Cass's ladies.
As the princess's sworn shield, Jarred stood close to Cassana, visibly not wanting to be there. Seeing his demeanor, Cass asked, "How's your lessons with Arya?"
"She's eager to learn, unlike most ladies," Jarred chuckles.
"Maybe you could give me some lessons," She chuckles until her mother gives her a sharp glare after hearing that, causing the princess to keep quiet. She then saw Sansa looking over Joffrey, who avoided her gaze, causing her to look back at the tourney grounds downheartedly.
Seeing this, Cass leans to her brother, "Couldn't you at least smile at her? She is going to be your queen one of these days."
"We're not married yet," Joffrey waves off.
Cass urges, "But she is your betrothed. If you're really that upset about what happened at the King's Road, that was months ago, and she already paid for it when her direwolf was killed for you. The least you could do is be courteous to her."
Joffrey continues to look away as Sansa keeps looking at the ground as Lenora notices. Wanting to keep her mind off it, she asked, "Is this your first time in the tourney?"
"Uh. Yes, it is," Sansa answered, "It looks glorious."
"Well, we have them three or four times a year," Lenora tells her, "it can be quite dull when you've been through that."
"It gets so boring after a couple of minutes," Jocelyn, sitting next to Lenora, complains, "It's always the same thing over and over."
"I heard sometime there would be fighting between two knights," Arya said.
"Sometimes, yes," Ema replied, "Although nothing bad happens. Just keep fighting until one yields, and it's over."
Lenora looks at Sansa, seeing that this conversation isn't making her feel better, and says, "If you want, maybe Cassana would speak to Joffrey on your behalf. She always got what she wanted from him."
Before Sansa could answer, Petyr Baelish made himself known by sitting behind the girls, "Lover's quarrel?"
Lenora introduces him, "Sansa, this is Lord Petyr Baelish, Master of Laws of the small council."
"And an old friend of the family," Baelish further explained, "I've known your mother a long time."
"Why do they call you Littlefinger," Arya suddenly asked as Sansa and Septa Mordane chastised her.
"No, it's quite alright," Baelish assures them, "When I was a child, I was tiny, and I come from a little spit of land called the fingers. So, you see. It's an exceedingly clever nickname."
"A funny nickname," Jocelyn mumbled as Lenora lightly slapped her arm for the comment.
"Been sitting here for days," Robert suddenly bellows, "Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" Cersei rolled her eyes before leaving her seat while her husband sat back down, drinking his cup of wine without a care in the world.
"Ser Gregor Clegane!" the Page announced as the crowds cheered for the first opponent.
"Gods, who is that," Sansa looked surprised by the large man who rode on the tourney grounds.
"Ser Gregor Clegane," Ceryse answered, "They call him the Mountain because of his great strength and size. They say he weighed over 30 stone. Nearly all muscle."
"He's also the Hound's older brother," Baelish added.
"And his opponent," Sansa asked as another knight made himself known.
"Ser Hugh of the Vale," Ema observed, "Jon Arryn's squire."
"I didn't know he was knighted," Jocelyn claimed.
Lenora tells her, "Jarred said he was knighted shortly after Jon Arryn's death."
"I hope he does well with the Mountain," Ema hopes.
"Yes, yes, enough of the bloody point. Have at it!" Robert said when the knights bowed to their king.
The knights kept their helmets on as they made their place for the first round, as the crowd cheered for them. Once they were ready, Ser Hugh and Ser Gregor charged their horses at each other until they met, with Ser Gregor almost hitting Ser Hugh but missing. The knights rode to the end of the tourney grounds until circling back to go again. As the two knights galloped their horses to meet each other a second time, Ser Gregor's lance suddenly hit Ser Hugh hard enough for splinters to fly around, knocking him to the dirt. However, everyone then screamed and gasped with horror as they saw a large piece of wood from the lance puncturing Ser Hugh's neck, causing him to fall off his horse.
Everyone stayed in their seats, seeing Ser Hugh on the ground as blood began to splatter out of his neck, causing him to chock and gurgle on it, spitting some out of his mouth. Lenora grabbed Jocelyn's face close to her so she wouldn't see what was happening, and Ema covered her mouth in shock while Ceryse looked horrified and confused.
"That shouldn't have happened," Ceryse said to herself.
Ema looks at her, "What?"
"The way he got hit," Ceryse said, "That shouldn't have happened. Ser Gregor was supposed to hit his lance around the armor, but not his throat."
"Maybe it was an accident," Ema guessed.
"Maybe," Ceryse assumed, but she wasn't too sure.
On the royal dais, everyone was in shock. Robert stayed frozen while Tommen and Myrcella looked scared and traumatized, causing Cass to rush to see if they were okay. She then turned her head to Joffrey to know if he was ok, but she could swear she saw him have a slight smirk as if he liked what he saw.
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Cass enters her mother's bed chambers, seeing her drinking a cup of wine while sitting on her desk, "You missed quite a show today."
"I did," Cersei said as her daughter closed the door, "How so?"
"Well, for one instance," Cass begins, "Ser Hugh of the Vale fought against Ser Gregor the Mountain. And died from it."
Cersei hums with amusement, "Going against someone called the Mountain would give a predictable ending."
"He had a large stake of the Mountains lance lodged in his throat," Cass explains as she sat on the chair on the other side of the desk, facing her mother, "Practically spitting out blood and choking on it."
"Must have been a ghastly sight," Cersei acknowledged, "How did your siblings take it?"
"Well, Myrcella and Tommen were scared to death of what happened, but Joffrey, well," Cass stops herself as she tries to find the right words, "It didn't seem fazed by it."
"Of course not," Cersei said, "He's a prince, and he should not be fazed."
"I know, but he seemed to have taken an interest in it," Cass counters her mother's point.
Cersei gives her a confused look, "Interest."
"I don't know, honestly," Cass admits, "It just seemed unsettling."
Cersei waves it off, "Men need to be strong and be able to handle bloodshed. Your brother is a prince and soon to be king when your father passes."
"I suppose," Cass wonders herself, "Anyways, there is something else I think you should know. Joffrey has been neglecting Sansa."
"And this worries you," Cersei deduced.
Cass looks at her mother with confusion, "She's his betrothed and will be his queen. Shouldn't he be close to her? Or at least look at her in the eye?"
"You do not need to worry, my dear girl," Cersei tells her, "I'll speak with him."
"Good," Cass said as she started getting up before her mother stopped her.
"I must say, I am curious about why you are worried about your brother's engagement," Cersei tells her.
"Why would you be curious about that," Cass asked her.
Cersei raises her brow, "The very mention of marriage causes you to run away into hiding. And yet you wish to talk all you want for your brother's marriage."
Cass looks at her mother apprehensively, "I'm just looking out for Sansa. That's all." And with that, she immediately got up from the chair and walked out of the room until her mother spoke, "You don't need to worry about that," Cass froze where she was and slowly turned to her mother, "I know what it is like to be sold off to a man you didn't know. I assure you, I won't let that happen to you."
Cass didn't know what to feel. Ever since she was a child, she felt at odds with her mother, but now, it seems they are on the same side. "Thank you, Mother." She turns to leave but has one question to ask, "I know you and father aren't the ideal husband and wife, but if you had a say in it, could you marry him again?"
Cersei stayed quiet for a second, which felt like hours to Cass, as she held her breath for the answer, "Yes, I would. If it meant having you."
Cass smiles at the answer as her mother smiles back at her. Once getting the answer, she wanted to hear, the princess left the room, walking through the halls of the Red Keep until she came to her bed chambers. She saw her ladies and Sansa all sitting close to a bay and bow window. Usually, Cass would sit in the middle of the windowsill as two of her friends sat on either side of her with their backs against the frame and her other friends sitting on the floor. It was usually their favorite pastime as they talked together without anyone around them.
"How'd it go," Lenora asked from the right side of the windowsill.
"Will the Queen speak to Joffrey," Sansa asked hopefully as she sat on the floor with Jocelyn and Ceryse.
Cass walked to the windowsill's middle and sat between Lenora and Ema, "She said she would speak with him. She'll get through to him."
"Thank you, princess," Sansa thanked courteously.
Cass smiles at the young girl, "You know Sansa since we usually call each other by our first names when we're alone."
Sansa, flustered, said, "I don't think it would be respectful."
"In the outside world, no, but in private, it doesn't matter," Lenora tells her.
"Alright, Lenora," Sansa said awkwardly but still flustered.
Ema giggles, "It'll take some time to get used to. So, what did you think about today's tourney? Despite the ending, of course."
"I thought it was grand," Sansa tells her, "Although the Mountain is a bit frightening."
"He always is," Ceryse commented, "There's just something about him that rubs off the wrong way."
"I was surprised that he entered the tourney lists," Lenora said, "Then again, he enjoys fighting someone."
"Killing them more like it," Jocelyn corrected, "He's scary."
"Didn't anyone else think it was odd how the lance hit Ser Hugh," Ceryse asked.
"What makes you say that," Ema asked her.
Ceryse says, "Well, it's just…the way he held the lance was weird, as if he was trying to strike him in the neck. " She then gets up to a table nearby them, grabbing a book there, "I remember reading about the anatomy of the human body and that the throat area is very vulnerable in the armor and can be very easy to pierce when fighting to the death."
"I would never expect a noble lady to be reading that," Sansa admitted.
Ema then said, "That's Ceryse. She's always reading about something. But I'm sure it's just an accident. Deaths can happen in a tourney."
"I'm sure if Ned Stark was there," Cass said, "It would've been played a lot differently."
"I don't think it would," Sansa muttered, getting the girls' attention.
"Still not speaking to him," Cass asked as the redhead girls stayed silent, "Sansa, it has been months since it happened. Don't you think it's time to move on?"
Sansa looked at Cass and said, "He killed Lady."
"Under the Queen's order," Lenora tells her, "It was going to happen anyways. Think of it like this; your father ensured Lady would die peacefully. She would have suffered if Ser Ilyn had done it like Cersei wanted."
"You can't be angry about what your father did when he had no choice in it," Ceryse tries to tell her, "Especially when he's trying to fix things between you both."
"Not many fathers would do that," Cass admits, "Mine wouldn't. Usually, he would drink himself into a stupor and lock himself in his room for days, ignoring the problem. So, you should consider yourself lucky that you have a father who reaches out to you like he does."
Sansa was deeply thinking about what they were saying, wondering if there was some truth. Her father did give her a doll as a present to reconcile. Yes, she hasn't played with dolls since childhood, but at least he was trying.
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The next day, Ceryse walked through the empty tourney ground with Ser Jarred following her, "I don't see why you want to see the body."
"I'm just curious about what happened," Ceryse tells him, "Besides, Ser Hugh was always kind to us. You can't tell me you don't want to see what happened."
Jarred couldn't answer that as she was right in this. Ser Hugh was always pleasant to them. They weren't close but still. They soon made their way to the tent where Ser Hugh's body was getting for burial by the silent sister as Lord Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy were right by the body.
"Lady Ceryse," Barristan acknowledged, "May I ask why you are here?"
"I hope we didn't interrupt anything, but I was hoping to see the body of Ser Hugh," Ceryse requested.
Ned burrows his brows, confused about why a lady-in-waiting for the princess would want to see something like this, "I'm confused as to why a noble lady would like to see such a thing?"
"Well, it just seemed so strange of the way the lance pierced his throat the way it did," Ceryse explained. She then gestured herself to see the body, "May I?"
Before the men could say anything, Jarred said, "I assure both that this would end quicker if you let her."
Deciding to listen to the young knight, the two older men stand aside as Ceryse looks closer at the body. As she got close, she saw the silent sisters stitching the wound, "It doesn't make sense why this would happen."
"Why is that," Ned asked curiously.
"Deaths are usually avoided in tournaments," Ceryse explained, "There were always ways to avoid them. And even if there were a death, it would usually be by accident."
Ned looks to the side, seeing a silent sister polishing off Ser Hugh's armor, "He'd never worn this armor before," he observed.
"No, but I remember that armor was specifically forged for the occasion," Jarred commented.
"That's what makes it so strange," Ceryse said, still looking at the wound, "You'd think that it would protect him better."
"Bad luck for him, my lady," Barristan commented, "Going against the Mountain."
"Well, he was weirdly holding his lance," Ceryse said.
"Weird, how," Ned asked her.
Ceryse explains, "It was as if the Mountain was pointing the lance directly to Ser Hugh, not his shield."
"I wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't an accident," Jarred commented, "I heard the brute is a sadist, considering the rumors surrounding him. The main reason why I decide not to enter the lists."
"Who determines the draw," Ned asked.
"All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark," Barristan answered.
"Aye. But who holds the straws," this confused the others, but before they could say anything, Ned said, "You've done good work, sisters."
Afterward, all left the tent as Lancel Lannister, a cousin to Cersei and Lenora, was waiting to give Ser Barristan his helmet and cloak.
"I'm surprised that a noble woman had no qualms about seeing the dead," Ned remarked to Ceryse.
"I have been reading books on medical ways to deal with bodies," Ceryse explained, "I haven't made any stitches in the skin, but it's good to learn."
"Lady Ceryse was always a bright girl," Barristan commented, "If she were a boy, no doubt her father would have sent her to the citadel of Oldtown."
Ceryse chuckles, "Well, I'll need to get back to the princess, so if you excuse me, my lord, ser Barristan." Ceryse bowed to the men before leaving, with Jarred following her.
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Everyone had returned to the tourney grounds for the next round. Robert sat in his usual seat on the royal dais, and his wife, Cersei, was absent. Their children, however, were as Cass was seated next to Joffrey on Robert's left side, and his right side had Myrcella and Tommen.
"Where's your sworn shield," Joffrey commented as Jarred was not with them, "Too afraid to come."
Cass rolls his eyes, "He's giving his lessons to Arya."
Joffrey laughs, "Dancing lessons."
"Water dancing which is still a fighting form," Cass argues.
"Seems like our cousin has a cowardly side to him," Joffrey said callously.
Cass glares at her brother, "One would say the same thing about you. What exactly happened at the King's Road again?"
Joffrey's smile immediately dropped as he remembered himself crying and squealing like a pup, along with the disappointed glare from his father when he found out. Seeing that she got her brother, Cass smiles as she looks back at the tourney to see the Mountain about to face off with Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers. She saw him give a red rose to Lady Sansa, who was sitting close to her father, most likely that she saw reason when she and her ladies spoke to her about it. However, she also saw Loras exchanging a glance with her Uncle Renly, who gave a glimpse back, causing her to be suspicious of what that meant. Cass saw her aunt Hellen sitting beside Renly, giving him a knowing look as if she knew their glances.
"100 gold dragons on the Mountain," Baelish turns to Renly.
"I'll take that bet," Renly accepts the challenge.
"Baelish then japed, "Now what will I buy with 100 gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?"
Renly joked, "Or you could even buy a friend."
The trumpet sounded horns, and the Mountain and the Knight of Flowers rode toward one another. Loras' lance breaks on Gregor's shield and knocks him to the ground almost immediately, to everyone's surprise, and cheering.
Renly, glad he won the bet, said to Baelish, "Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."
"And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you have your friend?" Baelish countered as he gestured to Loras, causing Renly to go silent, which was found odd by his eldest niece.
"What does that mean," Jocelyn asked from the audience seat as Cass's ladies sat beside each other.
"He's his squire," Lenora tells her, "They are bound to be close friends."
Jocelyn nodded in understanding, but it wasn't exactly the truth as she gave knowing glances to Ema and Ceryse as they were fully aware of the true nature of Renly and Loras's relationship, and considering how young Jocelyn was, they decided to keep her innocence of the whole matter.
Furious about his defeat, the Mountain takes his helmet, throwing it to the ground, "Sword!"
A squire rushed with his sword as the Mountain unsheathed it and swung it at his horse's neck, killing the animal instantly as it squealed in pain, causing everyone to gasp in horror. Ser Loras turns, sees the Mountain approaching him, swings his blade, and goes to his shield to block the sword's blow. Suddenly, the Mountain's brother, Ser Sandor, runs to aid the knight as if acting on instinct. "Leave him be!" he yelled, blocking his brother's blade. The Mountain stopped as the two brothers stared at each other momentarily until the elder brother came at his younger brother, swinging his sword like this was a fight to the death. Cass watches the fight helplessly as no one can do anything to stop this but the king. She looks at her father, seeing that he is staring and not doing anything about it. "Father," she pleads to him as if she knocked him back to sense.
Robert then rises from his chair and commands, "Stop this madness in the name of your king!"
The Hound kneeled to his King as The Mountain swung his sword, nearly taking off his brother's head, but stopped as he was ordered to. The Mountain glared at the king before throwing his sword to the dirt and storming off while shoving people out of the way. Some tried to stop him before the King ordered them not to.
Ser Loras gets up from the ground, walking to the Hound, "I owe you my life, Ser."
"I'm no ser," the Hound waved off.
Loras then raised the Hound's hand as the crowd cheered for the two knights, concluding the tourney with a good ending.
As she clapped, Ceryse whispered to Ema, "Still think what happened to Ser Hugh was an accident."
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Arya was running around the Red Keep chasing a black cat which was part of her training with Jarred, saying that they must learn from cats since they are quick on their feet. She kept chasing it down a corridor leading to the underground cellar. As the cat slid through a gate, Arya, on impulse, opened and closed it behind her, where she saw many large skulls of various sizes. Amazed by the size, the little girl soon realized that they were the dragon skulls of House Targaryen since they were all once in the throne room before Robert's Rebellion. Before she could do anything else, Arya heard people walking, causing her to hide behind one of the skulls quickly.
"Lady Hellen led him to one bastard," a voice said as he locked the gate, "And now he has the book. The rest will come."
Another voice said, "And when he knows the truth, what will he do?"
Arya peaked over the large skull she was hiding in and saw it was Lord Varys with someone else she didn't recognize.
"The gods alone know," Varys said, "The fools tried to kill his son. What's worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other's throats. We will be at war soon, my friend."
"What good is war now," The other man said, "We're not ready. If one Hand can die, why not a second?"
"This Hand is not the other," Varys said, "And Lady Hellen does not wish him harm."
"You and I both know it is her husband who makes the decision of him living," the man said, "Have her tell Lord Jonathor we need more time. Khal Drogo will make his move once his son is born. You know how these savages are."
Varys then said cryptically, "Delay," you say. "Move fast, " I reply. This is no longer a game for two players."
"No," the man agreed, "But the Sea Dragon of Dawn Isle is the one making most of the moves."
Arya watches as she sees the two men leaving, causing her to emerge from the dragon's skull and run to the gate, only to find it locked. She then runs in another direction to find a way out, which she does.
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Jarred was watching Arya balancing herself on a step stool on one foot. He circles her, staring at her while using a wooden staff to tap the leg she is on lightly.
"Do you have to do that," Arya asked, irritated.
"Focus," Jarred scolds her, "Never lose your concentration on staying balanced."
"It's hard to stay balanced with you poking at me like that," Arya complained.
Jarred said, "Or when the wind blows, the step stool gives out, or when you fight your opponent. Yes, balancing yourself is hard. That's the point. It would be best if you balanced yourself at all costs. One wrong move, they'll strike, and you'll be dead." he then gave a soft poke behind her back, causing her to fall from the step stool. "You're not focusing."
Arya, now on the floor, could only look up at Jarred before trying to avoid his gaze. Noticing this, Jarred knelt and asked, "What's going on?"
Arya was about to answer, but she wasn't sure she could. As she still remembers the words Lord Varys, something about a war, a bastard, but what she was thinking most was Jarred's parents, Hellen and Jonathor, and how they were playing a game of thrones. She wasn't sure what they were talking about, but she could swear they planned to kill Ned or something like that. She wished she could tell Jarred, but she couldn't trust him, anyone who wasn't a Stark, or those loyal to them, especially since it was about his parents.
Seeing her hesitation, Jarred said, "Have you spoken to your father about whatever it is?"
"Yes," Arya said, "It's nothing."
Jarred looked at her strangely as she quickly got up on the step stool and practiced her balance again. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he hoped it was nothing terrible.
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"The whore is pregnant," Robert glares at Ned as the council receives word of the condition of Daenerys Targaryen.
"You're speaking of murdering a child," Ned argues.
"I warned you this would happen back at the North," Robert seethes, "I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both. And those fools Viserys and Areon. Is that plain enough for you? I want them all dead."
"You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this," Ned begs him.
"Honor," Robert bellows, "I've seven kingdoms to rule. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honor keeps them in line? Do you think it's an honor to keep that's keeping the peace? It's fear. Fear and blood."
"Then we are no better than the Mad King," Ned proclaimed.
"Careful, Ned. Careful now," Robert warned venomously after being compared to the dead tyrant.
"You want to assassinate a girl because the spider heard a rumor," Ned questions.
Varys speaks up, "No rumor, my lord. The princess is with child."
"Based on whose information," Ned questioned.
"Ser Jorah Mormont," Varys answered, "He is serving as an advisor to the Targaryens."
"Mormont," Ned exclaimed, "You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?"
"Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor," Baelish comments, "Small difference, I know, to an honorable man."
"He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land," Ned listed the exiled knight's past sins, "We murder the word of this man?"
"We have been offering a pardon if he does what he was assigned to," Hellen gently explains, "He would have no reason to lie if it got him to return to his home."
"So if he's right? If she has a son," Robert challenges, "A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army…what then?"
"The Narrow Sea still lies between us," Ned counters, "I'll fear the day they teach their horses to run on water."
"Do nothing," Robert questions harshly, "That's your wise advice? Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores?!"
"They might come at our shores if we do threaten her," Hellen suddenly spoke, causing all the men to look at her. "I have been reading much on the Dothraki, and they don't go to war unless their omens favor it. If we threaten the wife of their Khal, no doubt they will find any possible way to cross the Narrow Sea."
"And who's to say that having a son is not a favor to war," Baelish questions her.
"We simply don't know," Hellen tells him, "And if I may be frank, I cannot be involved with murdering a girl with a child."
"Of course, you wouldn't," Renly dismissed, "Having a mother's heart will do that."
"Or probably because I see what could go wrong if we do this," Hellen challenges, "I agree with Ned that we do nothing unless we find something else."
"So you agree," Robert exclaims to his sister, "Just sit by and do nothing!"
"Perhaps wait for Ser Jorah to tell us if they are going to war, which, according to Ned, will never happen since they fear the Narrow Sea," Hellen reasons.
Having enough of this, Robert angrily looks to his council members, "You're my council. Counsel! Speak sense to these honorable and softhearted fools!"
"I understand your misgivings, my lord and my lady," Varys begins gently, "Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed."
"I bear this girl no ill will," Pycelle brings his thoughts, "But should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?"
"We should have had those three killed years ago," Renly said.
"When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman," Baelish paraphrased, "best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat and be done with it."
Hellen shakes her head softly, "I can't approve of this. I just can't."
"It's not your decision, sister," Renly reminded her that their brother was King.
Ned stood where he was—disgusted that Hellen was the only one in this council who was against this vile thing happening. He slowly leaned forward to Robert on the table, "I followed you into war. Twice, without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child."
Robert glares at Ned with fire in his eyes, staying firm to his decision, "She dies."
"I will have no part in it," Ned concluded.
"You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark," Robert reminds him sharply, "You'll do as I command, or I'll find me a hand who will."
Seeing no changing his mind, Ned grabbed his Hand of the King pendant and threw it on the table, "And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man."
"Out," Robert ordered as he stood up, "Out, damn you. I'm done with you," Ned turns his back to walk out of the room as Robert continues to scream, "Go, run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike!" All watched Ned Stark leave as Robert continued to spout out empty threats like a child.
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Hellen enters her bed chambers and quickly goes to her desk, pulling out an empty scroll and writing out specific contents as soon as possible. Just as she finished, Lord Varys entered the room, "Quite crafty it is for you to disagree with your brother. On purpose, I imagine?"
Hellen looks up at the spider, "Robert always had tunnel vision, and when someone tells him not to do something, he doubles down. Can you send an attempt without actually harming them?"
"My birds are more than capable of that, my lady," Varys assures her, "If anything, we will give an elixir that will feign symptoms of illness but not fatal."
"To her or the child," Hellen asked, not wanting any harm to the girl or her child.
"No," Varys answered.
"Good," Hellen thanked the spider, "Now for poisoning Viserys maybe, since according to your birds, he's mad like his father, but what's more important is that no harm comes to Areon."
"Of course," Varys tells her.
"If Illyrio were able to keep Areon in Pentos as we planned, this would have been much easier to deal with," Hellen complains to him.
"Not worry, my lady," Varys said, "The Lions and the Wolves will be at each other's throats, and war will be coming soon enough."
"But Ned, my brothers, and Cassana will not be harmed," Hellen reminds him sternly, "Will they not?"
All Varys could say, "The gods alone know of that."
Hellen then hands him the scroll, "Get the message to my husband as quick as you can."
Varys bowed his head before leaving the room as Hellen took a deep breath at everything happening, praying that her husband would get the message.
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