Tommen
"Tis a fine feast." Tommen declared. "Wouldn't you agree, my lords and ladies?" He wore a fine doublet laced with a dozen white stags embroidered on the fabric. The ballroom required a certain regal presence, even if it meant wearing uncomfortable fabric that scratched against the skin, instead of the usual chain-mail or plate armor. Dark Sister at his hip was the only thing that felt right. The sword has history. It's a beautiful artifact.
"I've certainly had my fill of wine." Lady Jaina confessed. "Maybe a little too much?" She giggled.
"Nonsense, my lady! It's a celebration! There's no such thing as too much!" Tommen replied cheerfully.
And what a fine celebration it was! Singers sang lovely songs like Jenny Oldstones and The Bear and the Maiden Fair as he danced with pretty maidens on the dance floor. Though I only wanted to dance with my Arya. Tommen noted the jealous look in her grey eyes that she would deny with every breath she wanted that too.
I best not make her too jealous…Though a little jealousy wouldn't hurt anyone. It could be fun teasing her. She might even slap me. He almost snickered at the thought.
Upon the white marbled walls of the Eyrie, banners of Arryn and Baratheon were soaring sky-blue falcon stood side by side the Crowned Stag. Symbols were powerful and could shape and mold empires. The Crowned Stag represented his father King Robert The First of His Name, who overthrew House Targaryen and established a new dynasty upon the Iron Throne. Yet, under his tenure, he forsook his responsibility to the realm and gallivanted off to play sellsword.
Do I want that symbol to represent me and my line? A symbol of negligence and turmoil.
Stitching a crown on a stag hardly makes one a royal house. Tommen mused. His father had been lazy with his choice. A few ideas swirled in his head. A golden stag over a grey background mayhaps? Or a white stag amid a silver background? He misliked those choices for one reason or the other. He preferred the white stag with a golden crown amid a piercing black background. The White Hart was favored by the Gods as the King of the Stags. Would that not be a more worthy symbol for the Royal House? The King of Stags! All good kings needed to be decisive, and he refused to allow his chance to slip him by. I'm no Aenys I! He would have the seamstresses work on his new sigil.
I shall strive to be a just king worthy of my crown.
Aegon V thought the same no doubt and his reign was an abject failure, all of his reforms overturned by his grandfather Lord Tywin. Intentions matter little, only outcomes. Isn't that the lessons of the histories? Tommen wondered. And he had his ideas but to forge them into reality, he needed support from his lords or they would only remain dreams.
At least I shall be better than my sire and the Mad King. I'll be hard pressed to do worse than them!
Well wishes flowed from the crowd of nobility who had made the climb to the Eyrie. Their voice were as soft as his silk gloves. The start of a reign always begins with flattery and praise designed to earn favor. "You are skilled in lance and sword your grace." Or they said. "What a fine jape, I was clutching my sides." Even if he had yet to be crowned before the Great Sept of Baelor he was king in all but name. My life shall be consumed by these dances of words. He should be cross with them for their falseness, but he couldn't fault them for trying to advance their houses. The histories were littered with lords and knights climbing as high as they dare on the backs of favor of kings. From Aegon the Conqueror to the Mad King, men played the game. And a good king needed to secure their support to shore up his reign.
At his right hand, Lord Arryn stood dressed with a handsome sky-blue cloak secured by a silver falcon broach. Together they faced the nobility of the Vale like his sire had once done with Old Lord Jon. In his pocket lay a symbol of great power.
"As king, you shall have to choose your Hand of the King. Few choices are as important as this Tommen. The Hand speaks with a Kings voice. It's never a choice to make lightly." Jasper Arryn had lectured a thousand times during his fostering.
Lord Arryn was right.
It was not something to decide lightly. But was the choice ever so easy? Tommen had known for years who he would choose. And Lord Arryn knew deep down aswell he suspected.
"A fine feast, your grace." Lord Redfort said, his cheeks reddened from wine and beer. The man loved his drinking. "No doubt you shall throw even grander celebrations in the Red Keep."
"The wedding between His Grace and my cousin shall be more lavish than even King Robert and Queen Cerseis wedding. No expense will be spared." Jasper Arryn said. "The days ahead look bright, my lord."
"Indeed, Lord Arryn!" Tommen said cheerfully.
The threat Uncle Stannis poised none withstanding, but few knew of that. I shall not allow it to end in war. Though it would be a delightful time being on campaign, I'm no selfish king. Bran was gathering evidence for him from eyes in the Stormlands and Dragonstone. Evidence to convict in the eyes of the Storm Lords Uncle Stannis' treason.
Having a warg from song as a friend has its perks! Tommen knew. But Bran was worth more than his talents.
Far more…
Thinking of Bran made him feel guilty. You're behaving a lousy friend with him. It almost dimmed his smile.
"I know not what you think, my lords, but I'm eager for the hunt on the morn." Adrian Belmore declared with an easy grin. It was good seeing his old ward mate. No doubt he wanted some position in his court aswell and he could do worse than the Lord of Strongstone. He figured Master of the Hunt would be entice Adrian to join them in the Red Keep.
"Do you think you'll be up at the crack at dawn, Adrian?" Tommen asked.
"He better be. We shall wait for no one." Jasper said.
"You wound me, my king." He placed his hand over his breast. "I shall be up before the rooster!"
Tommen laughed. "It's good to have you Adrian amongst our company. It shall be a fine hunt."
Adrian laughed. "Where has Bran disappeared too? I've barely seen our friend." He asked, "Will he be joining us?"
"I don't know where he is. Probably getting some extra sleep. It'll be an early one tomorrow." He's charming the Mormont girl. Tommen knew. He wasn't going to bed her, but he wanted to know that she wanted too. Then he was going to sneak off to a tavern and would likely bed some serving girl. But he couldn't say any of that with Lord Arryn or Myrcella around them. Not exactly something you say around polite company.
"Early sleep?" Jasper raised a brow. "I think I have a good idea where he is."
Myrcella shot a sweet smile and switched the subject to the upcoming tourney that would be organized in his honor. Lords loved to talk of tourneys and hunts, with their chests puffing up like peacocks as they boasted of their victories. He only half paid attention to them. Myrcella looked stunning in her blue silk dress, which was perfectly complemented by the moonstone necklace that graced her fair neck. Most only saw what they wished to see: a sweet submissive wife not the wit underneath. You have a sharper mind than Valyrian steel. Though you can't tell a jape to save your life!
Tommen hoped she was using her wits to dig him out of the hole he found himself in with Arya. He disliked the feeling of lying towards Lord Arryn and Bran. It's not kingly. He was trained to confront his problem head on with his trusted allies and friends at his side. Not cower behind secrecy and deceit. He wanted to hold Arya's hand in court and kiss her on the brow like she deserved. Oh, she's really kissable. Especially when she's savaging a man in the courtyard or laughing at his quips. Instead, he hid their love like it was some accursed thing.
Myrcella swore she simply needed some more time. Damn it Myrcella this isn't easy for me.
Tommen parried a not-so-subtle suggestion for an appointment in court with an easy smile that disarmed and slew with a quip that had them laughing tears. It involved a sellsword and a prickly porcupine. Poor Lady Jaina Arryn was hunched over, struggling to stay upright. They have to laugh at my quips. But who wouldn't laugh at them? They were hilarious!
"Please breathe, my lady. Do you need a glass of water?"
Lady Jaina looked mortified. "I'll be fine, your Grace, it's just. The quills went.." She could say no more on the matter. Her cheeks were beat red. "Forgive me, my lord husband."
Lord Robert supported his wife. "There is nothing to forgive."
Like any duel in the courtyard yard, he pivoted quick as a shadowcat to what he needed to achieve this night beyond charming Lords and Knights of the Vale. "The nobility of an Arryn on display, my lord. You have that in common with your sire and brother." Lords and Ladies alike nodded in agreement. House Arryn was an honorable house well respected for her gallantry and chivalry. Jasper Arryn had carried on the legacy of Jon Arryn for the next generation.
"I've heard it said my lords, that a maiden can walk naked along the High Road without fear of being accosted. The valor and justice of Lord Jasper Arryn is well known to every cutthroat and villain." He winked at the maidens. "Albeit, I wouldn't try it, my ladies, especially you Lady Ysillia, your beauty could drive any man half mad." She giggled and blushed prettily. "Though what can we expect from the bane of Clansman and Ironborn alike? A lord who has done more than any Lord of the Eyrie in living memory to enforcing the Kings Peace for all my subjects of the Vale. The Hero of Red Creek, savager of the Burned Men, slayer of Chief Ulmar, owner of Red Rain."
Lord Jasper was eyeing him carefully, like the falcon on his sigil. "Your Grace, I've only followed the principles that govern all Lords of the Noble Vale." He held a dignified look before his lords. "And I showed no more courage than the average knight of the Vale. We sons of the Vale have courage in our hearts to spare as even the court fool knows." It earned some light chuckles from the gathering.
"Lord Arryn, not even the Falcon Knight himself, secured Valyrian steel!" Tommen replied, ignoring his attempt at modesty. Red Rain hung at his hip. Its pommel was a falcons head, its crossguard fashioned in the shape of wings. This day he needed to brag, even if Lord Arryn would become irate with him. He swirled and grabbed a goblet of gold fresh from the mines opened in the reclaimed lands of the Mountains. A subtle sign to the riches and growing power of House Arryn. Subtlety wouldn't do this day! Lord Arryn deserved to have his accomplishments sung by a king for his years of service.
"The Vale is prosperous under your tenure, my lord. Silver, gold, tin, marble flow from veins previously untapped." He held the goblet up. "Singers sing of an Age of chivalry and justice under the watchful protection of the Eyrie." He said with pride. "Don't forget my lord it was you who founded the Order of the Winged Knights representing the finest knights the Vale have to offer. And there are a lot of valiant knights here. Frankly, I don't know how he selected some of the best swords I've ever seen!" Ser Will and Ser Lyonel of the order took up positions at the end of the marbled hall looming large with their sky blue cloaks. Both were veterans of the Mountain campaigns and had left a trail of dead in their wake. He twisted around. "Roads have connected the Vale of the Arryn from the Eyrie to Runestone, across the spine of the Vale towards Ironoaks. By the Seven, even the lowest peasant has a belly full of bread and ale. Not even a nag could find a complaint here."
No lord could deny that House Arryn had soared higher under Jasper Arryn. Merchants and farmers brought their wares to market without fear of brigands or clansman descending from the mountains. "Even wise Jon Arryn could hardly claim such feats. Not even he pacified the Mountain Clans." River of blood and ink had made it so. Tommen had spilled some of the blood himself.
"Your grace is too kind." Jasper replied with courtesey. "But mayhaps you've embellished a tad?"
"Oh, darling, my brother is hardly speaking any falsehoods." Myrcella giggled. "My knightly husband is ever modest."
"Tis true my liege." Lord Redfort said. "I find little disagreement in King Tommens' words." I hope not, my lord, or we shall have an exchange of words! And mayhaps steel if you prove unwise.
And Myrcella was right. He was speaking from the heart. Jasper Arryn had defended him with the courage of a knight since the start. He remembered that miserable day at the trident in Lord Darry's seat of power where he became the Crown Prince. Jasper stood strong and firm even at his brother snarl or the stern gaze of the Kingsguard. He would have died for my defense.
And I lie to him? Tommen felt the hurt more than any blow in the courtyard. He believed in that pudgy spare before anyone else. And how did he repay him? With lies and more deceit?
"You humble me, your grace." Jasper dipped his head as protocol demanded. "But you forget my greatest accomplishment?"
Tommen blinked. "I did?" What could he possibly have forgotten? He spoke about his greatest accomplishments as a Lord of the Eyrie. The construction of roads, securing the Kings Peace, increased revenues from gold and silver, and established a knightly order.
Jasper smiled a small, knowing smile. "Your grace, why, my greatest accomplishment is instructing the principles of the Vale to my wards." He rubbed his chin. "Gave me a few grey hairs in the process. By the Seven, I'm amazed my hair isn't completely silver with you mischievous ruffians." It earned a couple of chuckles. "But I know you shall make a fine king worthy of the crown of your father." A hint of quiet nobility in his voice. "I've know that for many years since I knighted you for valor on the field of battle. I remember that day well I shall never forget it even as all else fades away." His eyes went elsewhere for a moment before shaking his head. "Excuse me," He cleared his throat. "All I ask is that you think before you act your grace and trust your instincts, they serve you well."
He nodded along and reached into his pocket and pulled out the symbol of the Hand. "I know what my instincts are telling me." And the room went quiet as eyes widened. Myrcella let out a small gasp and brought a hand to her mouth. "Lord Jasper Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, Marshal of the Vale Clans, and Defender of the Mountain Passes. I name you Hand of the King."
Jasper Arryn bent down on his knee. "I shall serve my king with all my talents and skills. In victory or defeat I swear."
Tommen lifted him up to a chorus of clapping and cheers. "And I accept such a solemn vow! Let us forge a realm governed by honor!"
Jasper Arryn gazed with pride.
Hands were shaken and shoulders grasped. New caskets of wine were brought out. Myrcella greeted him with two kisses on the cheek.
"I know my lord husband shall serve honorably, my dear Tommen." Myrcella said. "Tis a wise choice."
"I think so too sweet, sister. I shall run the Seven Kingdoms like Lord Arryn has run the Vale! To Lord Arryn!"
"To House Arryn!"
"To the Noble Vale!"
"LONG LIVE KING TOMMEN!" The loud voices of Vale knights and lords echoed in the marble halls. As he wandered away from the festivities with Ser Barristan and his sworn brothers trailing behind him. Jaspers prideful look haunting him every step.
I can't do this anymore.
I will not do this a moment longer.
No more lies. No more deception. They deserve better..
But Tommen couldn't do it without informing Arya first. It didn't just impact him and a king shouldn't keep many secrets from his wife to be. It would make for an unhappy union. Later this evening, he would explain himself to Arya and everything would be alright.
He scarcely got a single word out before Arya attacked him with her lips and dug into his skin with her nails. She ripped off his silk clothes with a violent glint in her eyes and trailed over his chest possessively with her hands. She was demanding in her affection. He quickly fell under her sway. A pile of clothes trailed the path to his bed. His hands squeezed her firm ass, provoking her to push him hard onto the bed. He laughed. Every kiss and bite had his heart racing like a horse, and he wasn't too keen on anything that didn't involve her lips. The conversation could certainly wait. Only a foolish boy would stop this!
" I want to hear you moan."Arya barked. "Your mine Tommen. All mine. Don't make me slap you." She grabbed his manhood with a firm grip and he could think of little else as she squeezed him with one hand and rubbed his chest with the other. Her small breasts pressed up against his back. He let out a moan.
"Oh yes. Yes Tommen do that." She whimpered.
"I've never held a boy like this before, Tommen." She admitted as she nibbled on his ear. "I've kneed them in the courtyard and left them twisting in agony. It's a sensitive point to strike like the throat or a jab to the stomach." Thats very true! What a fierce woman! How can I get this lucky!? "But never this. I hope you like this."
"It's very enjoyable, Arya." Tommen grinned.. "You might be killing me in a way a king should go out!"
Arya giggled. "Should I be softer Tommen?"
"Don't you dare!"
"You just want to stick this inside me, don't you?" Arya smirked.
"And you want it there." Tommen winked.
"Shut up!" Arya whined. "I don't…"Her voice softened. "Fine, maybe a little. But thats your fault. You're so damn beautiful and strong." Her nails dug into his chest. "I just want to..." she said, her voice filled with longing. Aryas lips descended lower and and lower until she kissed exactly where he wanted. This is better than kissing and almost better than swordfighting!
Arya's lips finally stopped trying to kill him, and she settled into the soft sheets, wrapping her slender arms around his chest. "Now, as I was saying before, I was so rudely interrupted." Tommen said. "I need to have words with you, Arya."
She raised a brow. "You make it sound like an inconvenience? I didn't hear much complaining." Her hand rubbed his chest as she shot a wolfish grin at him.
"You were amazing, Arya!" He kissed her on the brow. "I look forward to our wedding day. That'll be a fun duel where we both win. And I do love winning." I might die actually bedding her. He sighed. "But I do need to talk with you."
Arya nodded, and he spoke about how he felt about the lies and deceit. And his intentions to inform Bran and Jasper Arryn, along his knights of the Kingsguard, about their relationship. "I just can't go on like this, Arya. It's not how I wish things to be." When King Jaehaerys married Queen Alysanne, he snuck away to Dragonstone with his Kingsuard when he knew his regents would be opposed. The reputations and skills of the Kingsuard would be a strong asset for him. Not that I think Jasper is Rogar Baratheon.
"I understand." Arya replied stoically. "I shall be at your side through all of it as I shall be through all things."
"I don't know if that would be the best idea."
Arya crossed her arms, annoyed with him. "Are you trying to shield me? Hide me away like some dainty flower?"
"No Arya, it's not that." He snickered, imagining Arya as some dainty flower. More like a pointy cactus! "I have no qualms with you coming with myself when I inform the Kingsguard or Lord Arryn. But Bran…" Tommen offered a sheepish look. "I worry if Bran hits me, you'll lunge at him like a shadowcat. I remember what you did to poor Ser Lucien when he hit me unaware in the training yard. Poor man is still limping." She winced.
"He had it coming." Arya mumbled. "The bout was done."
"And that is why I don't think you should come. You're very violent, which is amazing, but I don't want Bran a bloody pulp. Especially when we are in the wrong."
"I'll control myself." She took a calming breath. "He gets one blow. Only one blow, for honor's sake."
Tommen placed some authority in his voice. "You swear it, Arya?"
"By my honor as a Stark."
"Then let us get dressed! Remember happy thoughts! Imagine Ser Pounce purring or beating a man bloody in the courtyard. Happy things!" His smile became radiant. "Or imagine us kissing! That always makes me happy and I know it makes you happy too." He brought her in close. "Don't deny it."
Arya giggled. "Never." And kissed him some more.
Bran
Lady Lyanna hurled a cacophony of curses at him that would have made any septa faint. Yeah, she wanted me badly. Knew it. Never met a maiden that didn't want what I have to offer. Bran invited her on hunts or hawking expeditions and got her talking. Women loved to talk, especially when he was smiling at them. He even used one of those knightly books on poetry that planted seeds of lust in the Mormont girl. The only reason knights learned poetry was to bed women! Brilliant bastards. "You fucking roguish scoundrel! You've been leading me on!" Her voice rang out in the garden with not even a guard or servant. The only sound was the soothing caws of Princess Myrcellas song birds. The birds seem a bit pitchy today. I shall have to complain to the princess.
Bran grinned. "Guilty. It was quite fun." He rubbed his chin. "Could have done without the declaration of love though," and smirked. She was blessed with big teats, pleasing to the eye. A tumble with her in the bedchamber would have been a great night. But Bran knew cousin Jasper and his father would see them wed before the next moon. Now, they'll never make me wed some lowborn wench. A woman of noble birth was a different tale entirely. As Lord of the New Gift, he was a good match for any northern or Vale lord with a daughter. Robb wished him to marry a Glover girl. There was only one womans shoulders Bran would wrap his cloak around. A woman who understood him best.
And her name wasn't Lyanna Mormont, and it definitely wasn't a Glover.
I can't leave for her yet. I need to stay with Tommen. He needs me.
"Your a lying piece of shit, you know that. Fuck you Brandon Stark! You have no honor." Lyanna said, seething, and shoved past him, leaving him alone.
"More than you!" He shouted at her retreating form.
No honor? I saved everyone from monsters of nightmare. He remembered seeing Bear Island consumed in the same darkness that would have devoured them all. A Long Night brought upon by power hungry petty gods. They were the monsters, not him.
I'm just Bran.
"A knight must always fight for his lady love, Bran. No matter the pain or hardship." cousin Jasper lectured. "Never give up and never surrender. A womans love must be earned. You get exactly what you put into it, like the training yard. Now go give me a hundred laps." And Bran was going to fight for her. For the first time in his life, he saw a future of life and hope without the bleak certainty of death. But who could blame him for entertaining himself in the meantime? A man was only young and free once.
At least she didn't drink much of the Dornish wine. It left more for him. He consumed the entire bottle in a couple of large gulps. "I saved her fucking life. I suffered for them." He slurred to a bush of roses and slumped on a bench. I don't give a shit what she thinks. He'll head down to some tavern and meet a pretty server and the night would end happily enough. "I need-" Oh mother, it burns. Please, mother, it burns. Bran curled up and shivered on the bench as the pain overwhelmed him. "Not now." He whimpered.
The burning feeling of the knife lingered beneath the skin, and the green paste that burned down to the bone reignited. A thousand scars afflicted and healed over and over again reopened.
Brans shaky hands grabbed ahold of his horn of thick ale and he drank greedily until his vision darkened.
A dozen green horned heads popped like melons, showering him in black tar. Esteemed members of the council. Swords and spears fell with a clang. All it took was a single look and he jump into their skins and killed them. Skulls cracked under his assault. Bones bent easily. Hearts imploded. They were flesh and bone, just like man. Dark Sister had tasted the blood of the green men as well. A black ooze that smelled worse than goat shit. Bran wiped the tar-like blood from his eyes as the fires burned around them. His eyes burned from the thick smoke and he could scarcely see. Flames flickered through the Main Halls of the spiraling trees, casting a red glow on everything around them. A temple of evil practices where they trained him to be a weapon in the War for the Dawn. Some part of him died in that temple. The Weirwood tree burned. Training from dawn to dusk had unlocked his potential hidden within his skin from a line of magic going back to Bran the Builder and made him strong.
"What have you done, Bran?" Flower's voice sounded horrified. "Whatever you think-" Her voice sang soft and comforting like a mother. Once it had soothed him now, it only filled him with rage.
"It's too late for those lies. I understand now." Bran tightened his fist around Dark Sisters hilt. "I'm no longer going to be your puppet. A sacrificial lamb in your war. Quit that act of yours. It won't work on me anymore."
Flower smiled sadly. "Bran, you're confused and that's okay-"
Bran chuckled. "Your going to die Flower. I'm killing all of you. Every Green Man and woman. Every Child of the Forrest and yes Bloodraven aswell shall die. All of you are guilty and your sentence is death by my hands."
The motherly facade faded and her eyes became hard and calculating as a viper. "And what crime is that? We've done exactly what you asked. We made you exactly who you wished to be."
"You told me I would die in the War for the Dawn that it was the only way."
"We told the truth. That was no lie."
He raised Dark Sister up as they circled around a field of smoke and flame, prepared to deliver his justice. She held no weapon in her hands, but she was far from powerless. "The Others could be stopped if you gave up your power and destroyed the Weirwood trees." But they couldn't be bothered to do that. "Don't deny it."
"And why would we do that? To save a few mud people? Insignificant ants. You know they are nothing to us. Unlike you Bran. You understand the power in the roots and the paste from the trees. How we move beyond flesh and bone." A slender smile formed. "Join us Bran. We can make your dreams come true. If you didn't wish to die, you only needed to ask. Did you think I would let you die, Bran?" She bridged the gap between them and touched his hands with a gentle caress. "I never was going to let that happen."
He didn't even pause for a moment and walked into her skin.
Flowers screams echoed.
Bran pissed like a stallion against the rotting bark with its green ooze "FUCK THATS GOOD." He aimed at the face of the weirwood tree. Enjoy your deaths pricks. It was a good long piss. All the warging into rats, crows, ravens, horses, dogs of the Stormlands and Dragonstone had exhausted him and left him vulnerable. I overextended myself and paid the price. The shadow from the Isle of Faces would always haunt him.
It doesn't matter; I have to keep that crown on Tommens pretty head. Bran vowed.
Princess Myrcella had fought valiantly trying to heal the weirwood tree. "House Arryn swore that the Godswood would be always cared for. I shall honor such oaths." She turned to healers, gardeners, septons, maesters. The princess even begged him to sleep under the tree at night as if his Stark blood would bring it back to life. He gallantly complied with her request. It was hard to refuse her anything.
Oh, Princess, it isn't worth your kindness. The Old Gods never cared for any of you.
Bran finished and placed his manhood back in his breaches.
He learned much, of course, about secrets of lords and troop movements. Lord Stannis had no intention of going to the wedding or the coronation, but his lords certainly did. Lips are very loose when no one is around. Lords are fickle with support and could be swayed by the right incentives or threats if one knew what to say. Information he was passing onto Tommen. Of course, a simpler solution was available to him to cut off the vipers head.
One riding accident for Lord Stannis and everything ends. A shiver ran through him. Bran would be just like them. He shook his head. I can't do that. Killing has a price to pay. And Bran couldn't pay it again. Not even for Tommen.
The thought of Lord Stannis pained him. He knows the truth about Tommens birth. Bran leaned against the bark, pressing his fingers against the rotting wood. A single word whispered to him. "King Aemon." A flickering remnant of power remained in the weirwood trees. Only as bright as a flickering candle at its strongest.
I'm not playing the part uncaring gods laid out for us.
Jon would have made a noble king and Bran would always love him as his brother. No cousin. He reminded himself. Jon is not actually my brother. But that was a destiny those pricks decided for their own ends. And Bran would burn the realm to ash rather than to let anything those bastards wished to come to pass. Aemon Targaryen the First of His Name shall never be born.
If Meera were here, she would understand.
"There he is! Bran, I've been looking for you."
Tommens' good natured voice cut through the early morning of the day.
He was always an early riser. Six knights of the Kingsguard trailed behind him in white plate. However, Arya's presence surprised him and he raised a brow in puzzlement. Her long face was as serious as fathers. Both Arya and Tommen only saw the other secretly and never so brazenly. Why are you with him? Shit, did you elope? Nah, if they eloped, Tommen would have been skipping. He was only half sunny. They are still only kissing. What Tommen saw in Arya he didn't quite understand. She was a reserved and cold girl with a strong will. Even more strange she loved Tommens god awful quips. Okay maybe I do understand. He should be upset with him for Sansa's sake, but he knew Tommen didn't plan any of this. Tommen was too much of a golden prince to do that. "You never went to the tavern. Had too much to drink?"
"Me? Too much! Ha!" Bran replied, laughing. "I don't have a ceiling, you know that."
"So I've never discovered you face first in a ditch?"
Bran parried. "Only that one time, and it wasn't only myself you found." He winked.
Tommen laughed and Arya rolled her eyes.
"Did you sleep well Tommen? No distractions." Bran asked, struggling not to snicker. It was hilarious breaking his balls over his secret affair. Once he lied about servants overhearing Arya moaning a name at night. Tommen went white as his bed sheets. Bran laughed tears when Tommen left the room with a lame excuse.
"I always sleep well, Bran, you know that. Every night is a great night."
Although he answered cheerfully, his eyes darted to Arya. Bran wanted to groan.
Arya studied him. "You look awful Bran." She sniffed. "You smell of piss and ale."
"The piss isn't mine." He lied. "Some drunkard fool pissed on the weirwood tree." Neither of them believed him, but didn't press him any further. Arya's stoic look could mean anything, and Tommen was glowering at him with an intensity he only showed on the battlefield. Despite Tommen's intense stare, he seemed hesitant to speak, as if he were grappling with the right words to say.
Bran noted under his golden collar scratches on his throat and a bloodied lip. He gestured towards it. "What happened there? Someone finally best you in the training yard?"
"I gave Ser Snowflake a bath." Tommen said quickly. "He was uncooperative."
I hope you weren't giving Arya a bath Tommen.
Tommen winced. "No." He said suddenly. "Thats not what happened. I lied just now, and not well. Ser Snowflake is very gentle when giving a bath, anyway." He mumbled.
"If it wasn't Ser Snowflake, what was it?"
"I…"He gripped his shoulders tightly. "Bran, you'll hate me for this, but I can't lie to you any longer. I've been a lousy friend to you. A king…Nay, a brother should know better."
"Tell me Tommen." Bran said. "I doubt it can be as terrible as you think."
Tommen looked miserable. "I'm breaking a promise to you I always intended to keep." He sighed. "A promise to marry Sansa. Forgive me Bran, I can't marry Sansa. I shall wed Arya instead. She is the queen I want and the only one I shall accept. I do so not only for my heart, but a conviction that she'll be a better queen for my realm."
"The fault lies not only with Tommen Bran, but myself as well." Arya said stoically. "Do not aim your ire solely at him."
"If you wish to strike a blow for the sake of honor. I understand," Tommen said solemnly. "I've instructed my Kingsguard not to intervene." And they certainly didn't show any surprise behind Tommens' announcement. Though Ser Barristan look tired and weary standing in contrast to Ser Robar who was grinning like a boy.
Bran said nothing. A dozen quips were on his tongue, but he couldn't say any of them. Tommen looked too miserable. I can't jape now. He needs me as I relied on his support all these years. Besides, Tommen should always have a smile on his face and anyone who ruined it would find himself a new set of teeth.
He threw not fists, but his arms around him and embraced him in a deep hug. "Piss on that! Marriage to Arya is punishment enough." He snickered.
Arya remained unfazed, not even batting an eye. Her emotions were frozen, like ice, but she managed to relax a bit.
"I thought you would be furious." Tommen said and pulled away from him.
"Nah. I can't get mad at you Tommen. Never you."
Arya fixed him with a shrewd look that looked eerily similar to their mother. Her arms crossed.
"You knew Bran, didn't you?" It was no question.
Bran smiled sheepishly.
It dawned on Tommen then. "You've been yanking my chain, you fiend! Last night you-"
"And it was hilarious. Your face was priceless."
"It was." Tommen agreed. "I'm going to get you back for it though." And Bran wouldn't have it any other way. He swung his arms around his cheerful friend and scowling sister, squeezing them both tightly.
"I approve of both of you." Bran promised. " Whatever you need. If it's within my power, you'll have."
Tommen smiled. "Thank you Bran. It means a lot." He sighed. "I doubt Lord Arryn shall react this receptively."
Bran snorted. "Probably not Tommen." He could already hear the yelling and curses in the back of his head. Cousin Jasper might actually turn as old as the late Jon Arryn. But Bran was confident cousin Jasper would come around. He always came around to whatever trouble he got into it. Why would this be any different? But what did he know he was no great courtly lord.
Authors note:Alright, it's been a while since my last update! But better late than never. I split up the KL and Vale POVS into two separate chapters otherwise it would have been a massive behemoth that would have been a slug to get through. So next chapter you'll see Ned, Sansa, Aegon, and maybe Tyrion as POVS.
As always I appreciate reading and responding to the reviews.
I've also added a link above to Tommens Sigil that I made let me know what you think about that. New Sigil
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