The raven cried from the Iron Throne, its beady intelligent eyes staring Orys down. It looked like the bird knew something, something Orys did not know. Was it trying to tell him that one day he would sit on the Iron Throne? Because he already knew that. The bird took flight and perched on the backrest, a surprise that it did not impale itself upon the swords. He cried again as if beckoning him forward. Orys took one step, and then one more. He was being drawn forward, by the raven or by some unknown force he didn't know for sure.
He was sitting on the Throne now, waiting for something to happen. After a while, nothing did. A little disappointed he went to stand but found himself unable to move. The raven cried again from above him and a five-pointed crimson leaf fell on the Prince's lap. He looked up and saw branches above him, heavy with the same kind of leaf that fell on his lap. The armrest of the throne felt odd, smooth and warm. He looked down and found the armrest to be made of wood. It was not just the armrest the entire throne was made of wood, and when he leaned back, he felt unevenness against his back. It was not from the sword-forged throne he knew.
"My Prince" he was standing before the Iron Throne, made of melted sword and not a raven in sight. He turned around and found Lady Sansa there, her Septa walking with her.
"My Lady, Septa" the Prince greeted with a smile. "What brings you two here on such a fine day?"
"Education, my Prince. I was telling Sansa about the Iron Throne" the Septa answered with a smile. "And that one day she will present a prince to the court."
"What if I have a girl?" Sansa asked.
"Then you will present a girl, my Lady" Orys answered before the Septa could.
"But what if I have only girls? What will happen to the Throne?" the girl added.
"Well I have two brothers, Joffrey would be next in line" Orys answered.
"But what if you name your daughter heir?"
"I think you know the answer to that already, my Lady" Orys smiled. "That was how the dance began, I would loathe to start a Dance of the Stags."
The Prince walked by them, leaving a worried Septa and a troubled young wolf. Not that he took note of that. His mind was occupied with the thoughts of how he had gotten to the throne room when the last thing he remembered was going to bed.
Frustration was the more dominant emotion running through the Hand of the King and the crown Prince. As with any big occasion or celebration, there was chaos. The Tourney of the Hand was no different.
"It's the Hand's Tourney that's causing all this trouble, my Lords, my Prince," said the commander of the City Watch, Janos Slynt. He was a stout man, with a jowly face and a bald pate.
"The King's Tourney. I assure you the Hand wants no part of it" Lord Stark insisted, his frustration getting the better of him.
"The Hand's Tourney, the King's Tourney, call it what you will, Lord Stark, ser, the city is packed with people and more flooding in every day. Last night we had a tavern riot, a brothel fire, three stabbings and a drunken horse race down the Street of Sisters."
"If you can't keep the King's peace," said Renly Baratheon, "perhaps the City Watch should be commanded by someone who can."
"I need more men" insisted Janos Slynt.
"You were given orders to train the commoners who are able and had volunteered to become part of the City Watch. What of them? What is their progress?" the Price asked.
"They are not ready yet" the man answered.
"Four months you were given time, and yet not one is ready?" the Prince's question was met with silence.
"You will get fifty. Lord Baelish will see it paid for" the Hand of the King muttered.
"I will?" the Master of Coin asked.
"You found money for the champion's purse, you can find money to keep the peace" the Hand replied. "I'll also give you twenty of my household guards till the crowds have left."
"Thank you, my Lord Hand, ser. They will be put to good use" The jowly men bowed and left.
"Where in the seven hells did you find this Uncle?" the Prince turned to his Master of Laws, "can't even train men in four months to be able to hold a sword right."
"Maybe in this Tourney, we'll find someone to replace him" Renly gave a tight smile.
"The sooner this is over, the better" Lord Stark grunted, emptying his cup of wine.
"The realm prospers from such events, my Lord," said Lord Varys. "They give the great a chance at glory, and the lowly a respite from their woes."
"And every inn in the city is full and the whores are walking bow-legged" Lord Baelish added.
"It does help that the Crown sees the profits from the establishments" Orys sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "But it is still a headache for us all to deal with."
"If that is all my Lords" the Hand stood, and with him stood the rest of the council. One after the other the members of the council left. The Grand Maester groaned as he stood, complaining about the heat and envying the Northern snow. And then he was stopped by Lod Stark. Orys remained in the room, watching the two men interact in silence.
"He came inquiring about a book," said the Grand Maester, his tone hinting that he still felt insulted by Lord Stark's earlier comment.
"Book? What book?" Lord Stark asked.
"The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms" Orys answered, Lord Stark's eyes falling on him. "The book is with me if you wish to read it."
"I would like that very much, thank you."
The Prince and the Hand bade farewell to the Grand Maester and made their way to the Prince's quarters in Maegor's Holdfast. They did not speak about anything on their way there, content with keeping silent. They spoke only then when they were behind the closed doors of Prince Orys' chambers. The Prince led Lord Stark to his study table, where the book was.
"Did Jon ever tell you what he was looking for in this?" Lord Stark questioned, opening the book and sifting through the pages.
"Not entirely" the Prince answered. "He kept saying that something did not feel right."
"What did not feel right?" Lord Stark asked.
"I'm not sure, Lord Stark" the Prince mumbled, "though I did find it curious that he had marked a certain page."
Lord Stark pushed the book towards him and Prince Orys turned the pages until he reached one with its corner folded. He pushed the book back to Lord Stark.
"Jon Arryn, first of his name, born to Lord Jasper Arryn and Lady Helaena Arryn in the two hundred and nineteenth year after Aegon's Landing, at the Eyrie. Blue of Eye, Blonde of Hair" the man frowned. "Anything else?"
"There are more pages marked, Lord Stark" The prince shifted through the pages again before showing him another page.
"Lysa Tully, born to Lord Hoster Tully and Lady Minisa Whent in the two hundred and sixty-seventh year after Aegon's Landing, at Riverrun. Blue of Eye, Auburn of Hair. Jon was looking at this? Why? Lysa is his wife and he knows what they both looked like."
"As I said Lord Stark, I'm not entirely sure" the Prince answered.
"Do you have a theory then perhaps? You knew Jon better than most. He raised you practically and groomed you for Kingship. Tell me Orys, what could he be looking into these things for?"
Orys was silent for a moment before he turned the pages and stopped at a newer addition to the book. "It's just a theory of mine, Long Stark. I'm unsure of it."
Lord Stark took a look at the page with narrowed eyes. "Robert Arryn, born to Lord Jon Arryn and Lady Lysa Arryn in the two hundred and ninety-second year after Aegon's landing, at King's Landing. Blue-Green of Eyes, Brown of Hair."
Lord Stark took his time to read it, digest the facts and mark up his own conclusions. He turned to Orys with a disbelieving look in his eyes. "You don't suppose-"
"I'm unsure… But perhaps…"
Lord Stark looked troubled when he left Orys' chambers, the book tucked under his arm. "Sorry Jon, but this is for my family" the Prince mumbled as he watched Lord Stark leave.
Late into the night, Orys found himself waking at the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. He jumped out of bed, sword drawn and ready to strike. He saw no one in the chambers. The wind was blowing gently through the window and by it was his study table, where he noticed a book he had not seen before.
He walked towards it, sword in one hand but lowered. It was not just one book, but a few stacked one over the other. Some looked old while some were brand new. Orys opened the top book and looked through it, and the more he looked the bigger his smile got.