Quote the Three-Eyed Raven Nevermore

by Anthony Santana

summary on the inside

21. chapter 21

Chapter 21

Notes:

Warnings

We got executions, we got discussion of aspects of slavery, and we have a tourney.

Now I'll stop sounding like a carnival barker, and you can read what you're really here for.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

(Red Keep; Maiden Vault)

Cersei had little to keep her entertained in the Maiden Vault. There was sewing, something she had not done since she was a young girl. Her father suggested it was a skill she refreshed as there would not likely be servants to see to her needs on the Isle of Faces. Her only company the few days since Lord Stark had decreed her fate, had been her younger children and her aunt. Tyrion had stopped by briefly, and while she expected him to crow about her fall from grace, he'd given her a book on the collected knowledge of the Isle where her final days would be spent.

Last night though a new form of entertainment had arrived. Lynesse of House Hightower, the wife of Jorah Mormont was tossed into the vault. She had wept by the hearth for most of the evening, their only words shared being Cersei directing her to one of the uninhabited chambers.

"Lady Cersei," a calm voice called from the door.

Cersei smiled as Sansa entered the vault, "Little Dove, how pleasantly surprising to see you."

"I'd have visited sooner, but preparations for the tourney are hectic." Sansa sighed, "Not only preparing garments for myself but my siblings, Myrcella, and Tommen as well."

"Myrcella?" Cersei frowned, "I thought she and Aunt Genna were staying with father."

Sansa nodded, "Oh, they are, there are barely any rooms left in the Tower of the Hand. Even with most of us doubling up. Prince Oberyn asked Father to room his family during the tourney, with all the feasts and other events the added ride to their manse outside the city would be ridiculous."

"Indeed," Cersei smirked, "So you are helping Myrcella, thank you Little Dove."

Sansa smiled, "It's no trouble, between Jeyne, Nymeria, and Tyene. I have all the help I could ask for. I do wish Beth could have come as well, she's a bit younger but she was keen at helping when asked."

Cersei saw the door open, and Jorah Mormont entered, she stood, but the man shook his head as a small figure entered behind him, "Lady Sansa, are you going to be here for a while?"

"For a bit," Sansa smiled gently, "Lady Genna and Myrcella should be by for their daily visit."

Jorah nodded, "I see, before you leave can you see Doreah here gets back to the Tower." Jorah grimaced, "I have business for Robert in the city."

"Business," Sansa frowned.

"There are some things not even the Wall will except," Jorah smiled tightly.

"Oh," Sansa looked at the girl, "I'll take her to Alysane."

Jorah thanked her before turning and departing. The girl frowned, "Lady Stark, he said my mother would be here."

"She is Doreah," Sansa looked to Cersei, "She is Lynesse's daughter."

"I see," Cersei indicated one of the doors, "I have yet to see her this morning, but she took the bed down that hall I believe." Once the girl darted down the hall Cersei looked to Sansa, "That is a rather Northern name for a girl born in Essos."

Sansa nodded, "Doreah was the name of Sir Jorah's mother, Jeor Mormont's late wife. I don't know much about her, no one ever speaks of her much, but there were claims she was a Free Folk woman Jeor found hiding in the stables on Bear Island."

Cersei's brow quirked at that, "Why would Lady Lynesse name her daughter after the mother of the man she abandoned in Lys for a slaver no less."

Sansa rolled her eyes, "You do know why Sir Jorah fled to Essos."

"To be honest I never really paid attention to the reasons why," Cersei smirked, "Anyone who made your father mad enough to make them tuck tail and flee across the sea." Cersei looked seriously at Sansa, "How did they flee? If I'm not mistaken Bear Island is off the west coast of the North, they'd had to get to White Harbor to get to Essos."

"I was only a child, but Jorah and father were close. He often would visit Winterfell with his cousins Dacey and Alysane, though knowing their connection to my family it makes sense why." Sansa mused, "The last time I remember seeing Sir Jorah and Lady Lynesse they had visited, but I remember them leaving before the rest of the Mormont party."

Cersei sighed, "Your father gave them a head start."

"Not quite," Lynesse emerged with her daughter on her hip, "Lady Sansa, it is a pleasure seeing you again, you have truly grown into the very image of your Lady Mother. Is she in attendance as well or is she advising your brother in Winterfell?"

Sansa bit her lip, "Neither I'm afraid. Father was forced to set mother aside, and she returned to her family in Riverrun."

Lynesse looked surprised, "Whatever could have happened to make your father dishonor her by doing that."

"My father," Cersei snorted, "and a cabal of other High Lords playing the game. Poor Caitlyn was a casualty of whatever schemes such men have come to. I do believe Prince Doran to be the ringleader though, clearing the way for Lady Dayne. The man and his brother always saw her as another sister. The Tully's transgressed dangerous grounds when they forced Lord Stark to take up his brother's betrothal."

"Lady Dayne," Lynesse looked confused, "I would not think Lord Stark to be attracted to a girl barely a handful of years older than his eldest sons. I doubt they have ever met."

Cersei mused, "She was in attendance at Winterfell with the rest of us, but her dear sister does cast such a shadow, it is so hard to make oneself known when she's in the room."

This surprised Lynesse, who last heard Lady Ashara Dayne had taken her own life. Sansa took pity on the woman and brought her up to speed on recent events in Westeros.

Lynesse looked shocked, "You are betrothed to the Crown Prince, Aegon Targaryen. The boy's father dishonored your aunt."

"He didn't," Sansa shook her head, "It is a complicated mess, but Prince Rhaegar promised Aunt Lyanna her freedom from her betrothal to Robert. In return, she would carry a child in place of Princess Elia who was unable to bear another child. They wed in Dorne, and unlike the various rumors there was no knife at the Septon's throat nor was he drunk. The product of that union was my brother by choice Jon, though we are cousins by birth."

Lynesse sighed, "That's how they targeted Caitlyn, the way she treated Jon. Regardless that she did not know the truth."

Sansa blinked in surprise, "You knew about Dacey and Alysane."

"Of course I did dear," Lynesse smirked, "I was Lady of Bear Island, there were few secrets I did not know. Daughters of a House such as the Mormonts do not draw much attention from one's liege lord. Normally this is the case unless said liege intended to wed their son or daughter into that House." Lynesse looked to her daughter, "When your father would visit on his errands in the area, he and his sisters would go off hunting. Then when Alysane met her partner, well, Jorah couldn't make me unhear his shout referencing Lord Stark as her brother."

Cersei smirked, "How did you and your beloved husband escape Lord Stark's wrath if he did not give you a head start."

"Distraction," Lynesse mused, "it was only five years ago, we were visiting Winterfell when Wendel Manderly arrived with an account from a slaver he'd captured at White Harbor. Attempting to save his own life the man claimed to know the name of a Northern lord who had sold a group of poachers to one of his associates. In a ploy no doubt hoping to buy time for his colleagues to mount some attempt at a rescue, he said he'd only say the name to the Lord Paramount of the North."

Sansa nodded, "Father departed not long after you and Ser Jorah."

"We barely reached Bear Island ahead of the notice to arrest Jorah," Lynesse shook her head, "Narrowly escaping Maege and her men, we took what we could and fled on the fastest ship Bear Island had. By the time we reached Old Town the word had already spread, Father refused to let us dock, sending one of my brothers to warn us that if we set foot on Westeros we'd be arrested and executed."

"Why would you name your daughter after Ser Jorah's mother?" Cersei narrowed her eyes at the girl, "Your lover must not have cared."

"Tregar is not Doreah's father," Both Sansa and Cersei looked shocked, "I got with child just before we arrived in Lys, Jorah was never around enough to notice. What meager funds Jorah scrounged up was barely enough to feed one mouth let alone two."

Sansa frowned, "Why didn't you tell him?"

"Tell him?" Lynesse scoffed, "How, in the three years before Tregar took me I only saw my husband a handful of times. He arrived at our hovel drunk as a sailor on leave and was gone the next morning. Off to fight as a freelance sellsword. I never knew where he was, only that he sent regular letters with his pay to keep the rent on that horrid little hole in the wall, and enough to keep me fed until the next letter."

Cersei mused, "That's how this Tregar swooned you away. Promises to give you and your daughter a better life. All the dresses you could ever ask for, all the fine foods you'd missed since going to the icy little island. All you had to do was spread your legs for him whenever he asked."

Lynesse's face reddened as she looked away in shame, "It was worse than you think. The merchant princes of Lys covet their concubines. Wives are little more than trophies, a means to garner more wealth and political clout. The more concubines one of these merchant princes has, the more prestige in wealth he can appear to have. I didn't start out as Tregar's favorite, but I avoided the horrors the other concubines were forced to endure. When a merchant prince held a feast, he was expected to provide a table companion for any unwed, widowed, or unattended guests. Thanks to Doreah, I was saved from such, as part of their duties was to do anything the man, they were attending asked of them."

Sansa gasped as Cersei grimaced, "In other words becoming a merchant prince's concubine just made you an unpaid pillow slave." Cersei noticed the way the girl clung tightly to her mother, "Does she know Ser Jorah is her father?"

"They have never met," Lynesse grimaced, "I could not properly care for her when she was born. It is how I first met Tregar. His wife had miscarried late in her last pregnancy. Tregar was looking for a child of a highborn to present to his ailing wife as a stand-in. I spent my days with Tregar's wife and other children, allowing her to treat Doreah as her own. At night I would return to my hovel, and she would be kept at Tregar's estate with the other children. I didn't know about the slave pins until I became his concubine."

There was a knock at the door and one of the guards opened it to Genna Lannister leading a group of young ladies, "Ah, Lady Sansa we were looking for you. See ladies, I told you that such a dutiful daughter of the Hand of the King would be sure to see to the wellbeing of those who have fallen as far as my poor niece and Lady Lynesse."

Daenerys brow rose as she entered and moved to Sansa's side. Conspiratorially she whispered though Cersei could hear her plainly, "We tried our best to hide, but she found Arya first. Your sister was not about to suffer the Old Lioness's claws alone."

"That was the real reason for your visit Little Dove, hiding from my beloved aunt," Cersei smirked.

"Posh," Genna Lannister bustled over to Cersei, "unseemly claiming ladies were hiding. Poor Ashara needed a break and to see to her own matters. I took the liberty of checking her wardrobe, nothing fitting a potential match for the Lord Hand. I told her I'd go with her to the markets to pick out some new fabrics, but she graciously bade me to look after her charges while she worked on her own gowns."

As Genna moved to orchestrate the footmen in bringing in the work the girls had been doing, Cersei patted Sansa's arm, "I'm sorry Little Dove, Ashara knows well how to escape my aunt's claws. The easiest way is to throw someone else into them."

Sansa grimaced as she looked to see Genna examining the stitching Arya had done the day before. Her sister was improving but was still not as clean-lined as Sansa's own work. Arya's dress was to be a more reserved imagining of the one Sansa was making herself, it was easier to guide her sister if all she needed to do was copy her movements.

(Red Keep; Training Yard)

Bran and Tommen spared under the watchful eye of Ser Cassel, though many other knights were getting some last-minute training in before the tourney started in a couple days. Rodrik kept an eye on those in attendance, there had been a rather large number of offerings to squire Bran when he came of age. Even Daven Lannister of Lannisport had approached Lord Stark with an offer.

Seeing the boys getting sluggish in their swings he called them to stop, "Good work today lads, get some water. Today's meeting should be over by now, Bran go find Jon and see if Ser Barristan has any tasks for you. Tommen, your Uncle Tyrion asked you to come have lunch with him today."

"I was going to go visit Mother," Tommen countered.

"Aye," Rodrik snorted, "apparently your Great Aunt has turned the Maiden's Vault into a sewing circle and your uncle was giving you an out. Your Frey cousins will be having lunch with him as well."

Tommen nodded, "Okay, Aunt Genna gets a little much when there's a tourney."

"That's a nice way to say my dear sister goes crazy," Tywin walked towards them, "I'd heard tales of great warriors training on this field." Tywin looked around before looking to Rodrik, "I do believe the only warriors of note would be you Ser Cassel, and myself."

"Perhaps they meant future great warriors, Lord Lannister," Rodrik smirked, "Come to see how your grandson fairs."

Tywin nodded, "Indeed, and that he and young Bran went so long without scoring tells me they have found a masterful instructor."

"Mayhap," Rodrik snorted, "or they have been paying attention when my liege lord puts the older pups on their arses."

"Fear is a great motivator," Tywin nodded, before looking at the boys, "I do believe your instructor dismissed you both." Nodding the boys dashed off to put away their training gear.

Rodrik crossed his arms, "Is there something you need Lord Lannister?"

"Perhaps," Tywin mused, "I received the most interesting of letters from my dear brother in Winterfell."

Rodrik's brows rose, "Aye, I'd heard from my nephew he took on your nephew as a captain of the guard. Problem?"

"No, I am actually proud Lancel has found himself a place, the boy was ever dutiful to his cousin Cersei." At Rodrik's look, Tywin grimaced, "Not like that, at least not in this world of events. Thank the Old and New. Though it seems he has found himself a northern flower."

Rodrik could only nod, "Jory wrote about that as well. Said Lord Robb, Osha, and he put the fear of the Others in the boy before they set out for Riverrun with little Rickon."

Tywin chuckled, "I can assure you Lancel would have no impure intentions with your daughter, at least until he seeks her hand. Kevan didn't want it to shock me when I inevitably noticed their budding feelings. I dare say I will be too close to Riverrun at the time of the wedding, that not attending could be seen as discourteous."

"I'll be in attendance as well," Rodrik nodded, "been asked to accompany the prince's retinue. I'll be bringing Lady Arya back to King's Landing while the others continue visiting a few other kingdoms."

"So I've heard," Tywin nodded, "as the head of my House and you are the head of your own, let us dispense with the games of younger men. Your daughter is young and yet to flower, but she is a prize few outside the North or the circle of Lords Paramount would understand. House Cassel may only be seen as a knightly house, but your family has stood at the shoulder of the Stark in Winterfell far longer than the Citadel has records. Not many houses other than branch houses are permitted to wear the sigil of their liege lord."

Rodrik tilted his head, "You gunning to match Poole's daughter to one of your nephews as well?"

"A steward's daughter," Tywin shook his head, "The Pooles only trace their ancestry back a few centuries at best. You Cassel have a much deeper-rooted connection to your liege lords, and it has nothing to do with the blood in your veins."

"Beth is my pride Lannister," Rodrik mused, "The only one of the daughters any of my wives gave me to survive past her first year. My brother Martyn had four sons, and Jory is all that remains. Do you know what Lord Stark told me of his visions, oh he said nothing until Prince Oberyn passed a message from my dearly departed brother for Jory to find a wife. My nephew was fated to die in this shit stain of a city, a knife plunged into his eye socket by the hand of your own son."

Tywin nodded, "I was gifted with such knowledge as well. Jaime acted foolishly and out of fear. His love for Tyrion is selfless. Out of all of us, he was the only one to truly care for his younger brother. Had Lady Caitlyn also not acted rashly such an occurrence would not have happened. By arresting my son, she set into motion the series of events that brought about the ends of many great houses and plunged the realm into a war that weakened us."

Rodrik nodded, "Aye, the fates did not favor anyone that day."

"Then let us pave the way for a better future," Tywin sighed, "With Lancel and your daughter wed, the Westerlands will have ties to a House with closest ties to the Lord Paramount of the North, and the North will have binding ties to the Westerlands, you know enough that I will act to protect my kin. I would do no less for Lancel than I would for Tyrion. Lord Robb's sister will be wed to Aegon, tying the North to the Crown. With this alliance, Aegon will have no reason for continued distrust of my family."

"Should he," Rodrik frowned, "you know I must inform Lord Stark of this discussion."

Tywin nodded, "I would expect nothing less. I'd have approached him myself first on this matter, but lately, he's been rather preoccupied extinguishing slavery rings and making Septons flee his presence while leaving trails of yellow and brown in their wake."

"That business with Ser Borus Blount set him off," Rodrik grimaced, "Been more mercurial than normal."

Tywin sighed, "The timing was not grand, it would been about now that the altercation that claimed your nephew would have transpired. We lingered in Winterfell far longer than the King did in other confluences of events."

"Be bad form not to recognize the happenings of the past," Rodrik mused, "but we live in our own world now." His eyes narrowed as he noticed a group of men enter the field fully armed with no House livery, "Wonder what that is about."

Tywin glared at the men, "Sellswords, I believe they are officers of the Wolfpack and Stormbreakers. Come to offer their arms and services for the battle in the North, of course, even this will cost the crown something. Tyrion informed me they were making their opening bids today; the crown was preparing a counteroffer."

"Sad state of affairs, when we must rely on Sellswords," Rodrik snarled.

"Excuse me," both men turned to a young girl leading a group of three men, "My brothers and Grey Worm were wondering if they may use this area to train."

Rodrik frowned, "Are you guests of the crown?"

The girl nodded, "We are here to negotiate means of transport and housing for our brethren."

"Brethren?" Rodrik frowns, "Where are you from child?"

The girl looked embarrassed, "Pardon my lords I forgot to introduce myself. I am Missandei of…formerly from Naath, but we come by way of Astapor. I am the speaker of the Unsullied, free men no longer bound by the yoke of the Good Masters."

"By speaker, I take it to mean you're the only one who speaks common," Rodrik looked to the three young men standing protectively behind her.

"Yes," Missandei frowned, "that has led to a minor difficulty in our endeavors as no one will arrange a meeting between me and the Lord Hand or another member of the King's council."

Tywin smiled kindly, "Then you are in luck young miss," he indicated to Rodrik, "You happen to be speaking with the head of the Lord Hand's household guard."

Missandei's posture slacked with relief, "Truly."

"Aye," Rodrik smirked, "I will speak with the Lord Hand and arrange a meeting. Do you have accommodations to which I can send a messenger?"

The girl shook her head, "We do not have much in the way of funds and most of that was spent paying a fisherman to see us across the Narrow Sea. We have a camp on a sandy beach not far from the city."

Rodrik shook his head, "We can't have that, wait here, I'll get ahold of Ser Barristan, and we'll figure out something more comfortable than a bedroll under the stars."

"Thank you," Missandei smiled brightly, "Even a pile of hay in a stable stall would be an improvement over the place we came from."

(Great Sept of Baelor)

The Sparrow watched as the Most Devout shouted over each other as the parchment he'd delivered made its rounds. The Septons and Septas that made up the Most Devout had been summoned to officially recognize Prince Aegon as King Robert's rightful heir. Not that this bickering pack of nitwits was really going to change that fact.

"The Lord Hand cannot do this," One of the Septas shouted, "He cannot demand the Faith forgive the loans we have paid to help the crown during their financial troubles of recent years."

Smirking the Sparrow held his hand out in a benign gesture, "As the merciful Lord Stark discussed with me yesterday, the money the Faith lent the crown was not ours to give in the first place. When the late Master of Coin came before this august body to ask for support, the support given deprived the funds that should have gone to tending to the poor, to providing medicine to the sick, and giving shelter to those who have none."

"You, brown-robe-wearing country bumpkin," one of the Septons snarled at him, "What has he got on you to make you do his bidding?"

"Far less than he has on any one of you," The Sparrow muttered under his breath before avoiding the topic, "The Lord Hand's son should be meeting with the High Septon tomorrow."

Another Septa squawked, "The bastard or the pup, both are heathens, I have heard they go to the godswood far more than the sept."

The Sparrow's smile tightened, "Lord Brandon is in his rights as a son of the North to seek his father's gods. Yet, I have taken to see to the Lord Hand's children's spiritual needs. I do find the godswood a calming place. Lord Stark even acquiesced to permit me a set of carvings of the Seven to be kept in the godswood."

"What of the girls," another Septa called out, "not even a proper Septa. Mordane was dismissed from her duties and remains at Winterfell."

The Sparrow chuckled, "Lady Sansa is far more knowledgeable in both her parents' faiths than some members of this august body. If not for her destiny to bear a crown I would place her name to be first among the sisterhood of Septas. Lady Arya could use a touch more decorum as a girl of her status, but I am led to believe she is far better behaved now than when under the thumb of this Mordane."

The High Septon stood from his crystal-encrusted seat between the Septons and Septas, "My friends, we must remember. We are the guiding hand of the Faith, not the Lord Hand."

"You do realize the man is a descendant of Cregan Stark," One of the less pompous Septons chuckled, "That man who with a word cut the number of Septons and Septas in this chamber in half. Some of whom ended up cut in half themselves."

"That was different," Another moderate Septon scoffed, "The Most Devout of that day didn't have the spine to defy a crazed woman grasping at the shreds of power slipping through her bony fingertips."

The less pompous Septon glared at his fellow, "Regardless if Stark's warning to our current High Septon is anything to go on. The man knows enough if he suggests the King have a review of us done. How many of you are so assured you won't be taking a walk of atonement right to the block."

(Winterfell)

Jory watched Osha pace before the hearth of their quarters, "You will wear a divot into the floor before long."

"I should have stayed with Rickon, my one duty," Osha snarled, "what if he gets hurt?"

Snorting Jory stood and moved to physically impede his wife's pacing, "He has Beth, two giants among men, and two actual giants. There is not much between here and Riverrun that would look at such a party and not reconsider their life choices before turning tale and fleeing to part unknown."

"Not all creatures on the gods' paths are as reasoned as you husband," Osha smirked before pushing him backward towards the door to their bedroom.

"A reasoned man would remember his maester's warnings about pregnant wives and stormy emotions," Jory chuckled.

Osha's smirk widened, "Did Luwin inform you of increased needs as well."

"Aye," he was working on the handle when incessant pounding came to the outer door, "Damn fools." He yelled to the door, "Better be bloody important or you'll regret it."

"Sorry Jory," the voice of one of the younger guardsmen came through the door, "Lord Stark sent me, Lord Bolton approaches."

Grumbling Jory and Osha broke apart, "Why couldn't the damn flayer do the decent thing and fall off the prow of his ship?"

"He is Lord Eddard's man," Osha pressed herself to Jory's back, "he felt Lord Robb betrayed the memory of his father. Letting his Southron mother distract him from what he should have been doing. Defending the North, rescuing his sisters. Not pandering to those below the Neck."

"How?" Jory looked at her over his shoulder.

Osha swallowed hard, "In one version of events Rickon and I were captured. Roose's bastard gave me to his father as a prize. To protect Rickon I did whatever Bolton asked of me. Roose came to trust me, he told me more than he'd ever tell anyone. It is how I knew what to say to convince the man to turn against his son and permit me to do what I needed to do."

"How do we neutralize Bolton as a threat now?" Jory asked.

Osha hugged herself to her husband, "I have already taken steps husband. We need not even open the flayer's veins to do so."

In the yard Roose Bolton road into Winterfell ahead of his personal guard and the captains and commander of the Company of the Rose. In a swift movement he dismounted and moved to stand before Robb, then hesitated before kneeling, "Lord Robb, I am sorry I missed your father our beloved Magnar. May he return to guide us soon in our darkest hour."

"Rise my lord," Robb waited for Roose to stand, "You bring friends."

Roose snorted, "I bring an army. It will take time for the entirety of the Company of the Rose to arrive. I took the liberty of sending word to the Night's Watch, they've asked to be permitted to take over one of the abandoned keeps along the Wall."

"Prudent," Robb acknowledged, "I am sure my father will be gladdened to hear of your safe return and the success of your tasks. I'll have your men given rooms to freshen up while we share a draft of ale, you've been surviving on whatever swill passes as such in Essos no doubt."

Roose smirked, "Indeed. Speaking of preparing rooms, is that not the duty of your lady wife?"

"She will see to it, but Maester Luwin was checking on her when word of your approach reached me," Robb smirked.

"I hope she is well," Roose plied.

Robb chuckled, "You haven't heard, my wife is expecting."

"Good," Roose clapped Robb's shoulder, "Now we have something truly joyous to drink to."

Robb escorted Roose to his father's solar. As the men sat there was a knock at the door. Robb frowned as Val entered carrying a tray with a flagon of ale and two cups, "Val, I told you as a guest you need not act as a servant."

The blonde Free Folk woman smiled, "It is my sister who is your guest Lord Stark, I am merely her unwed sister who has nothing else to do in this hall of kneelers."

Robb frowned at the way Val emphasized her status of being unwed, "Still, I thank you."

Roose held up his hand, "She is one of the Free Folk?"

"Yes, her sister Dalla married the deserter Mance Rayder. Apparently one of those who had the visions informed Dalla would not survive childbirth, he asked me to lend the aid of Maester Luwin," Robb frowned, "Margaery had just learned of her own pregnancy, she could not imagine a woman suffering through such without some help."

"It is a dangerous endeavor women are tasked by the gods to undertake," Roose filled his cup and handed it to Val, "Let us drink to the health of those baring the future within these halls. Lady Margaery Stark and Lady Dalla wife of Mance. May their children look upon a world free of the shadow of the Others."

Val took the cup and drank from it, "May they grow strong as their fathers, and be as comely as their mothers."

As he took the cup back Roose chuckled in his low voice, "I have met Lady Margaery, and if your sister is half the vision of you comely would be an understatement."

"You are most gracious with your compliments," Val smiled at the Leech Lord.

Once Val left Robb looked suspiciously at Lord Bolton, "What was that?"

Roose chuckled, "I sometimes forget your youth my lord. That and you did not have to do much in the way of courting. Your Lord Father saw an advantageous match and took it, you were just lucky the girl was both smart and easy to love. Some of us have a harder time finding beneficial matches."

"She is of the Free Folk," Robb frowned, "what benefit is there?"

"You do not see it? I take the sacrifice of marrying a woman of the Free Folk with some notoriety and clout among her people. Someone respected. I tie them to us; I show we are willing to let the bad blood of past ages go for the betterment of all who reside within the North." Roose nodded, "If your father were here, he would understand this is the best course of action for the North."

Robb worked his jaw, "It doesn't hurt she is of childbearing age and you are in need of an heir."

"There is that as well." Roose took a drink of his ale, "So where is that Lannister dog left to whisper in your ear?"

"Lord Kevan?" Robb frowned, "I sent him to Torrhen's Square to oversee the market day. It was a task Rodrik would normally undertake, and Jory was going to see to it, but Kevan volunteered to give Jory and Osha the day. Regardless of what you think Lord Kevan has not been whispering in my ear, he has given sound advice when asked, but does not overstep himself."

"Good, as long as the Southron knows his place," Roose set his cup down, "Now what you just said, when did the Cassel pup steal himself your family's pet wildling."

"The night of my wedding," Robb took a drink of his ale, "though they got to do things the easy way. Just them and their closest family, namely Jory's uncle and cousin. No frivolities that come with our stations."

"We all must make sacrifices my lord," Roose sighed, "yours was to play the part expected of you. A part you are doing exceptionally well my lord. You have the leader of the Free Folk's wife and unborn child under your roof. You have an heir on the way to stabilize your line. You are readying the North for the promised winter to come."

Robb frowned, "Do you still practice the tradition of the first night?"

He saw Roose swallow hard, "Did your father tell you?"

"He knows?" Robb glared.

Roose looked to the door before pulling up his sleeve to reveal long jagged scars, "Your father caught me in the act. Not long after the Rebellion, he was making the customary rounds, making nice with us. We had chosen him as our liege lord after all. I was not expecting him so soon, a huntsman was marrying a tanner's daughter in a hamlet just north of Dreadfort. My lands, the huntsman crossed me, so I chose to enact my rights of the first night. Your father's journey brought him from further north and through that hamlet."

"It is deemed as rape," Robb pointed out.

"Lord Eddard caught me before I had actually done anything," Roose frowned, "The most he could accuse me of is terrorizing them. Yet, your father is a shrewd man. He knew the first night was not the only practice outlawed that I am knowledgeable in. I flayed and made a blood eagle of Maester Luwin's predecessor." Roose indicated the scars, "Instead of the Wall or taking my head. We went to the godswood of Dreadfort. Your father had me kneel before our shared gods and flay my own arm. A strip for each woman I had dishonored." He pointed to one of the scars, "This one was for Ramsay's mother. Two years ago, I knelt before that heart tree once again and made it longer after that misbegotten cur became a kinslayer."

Robb frowned as he pulled a yellowed parchment from his father's desk, "Father truly trusted you?"

Roose grimaced, "It is not a matter of trust my lord. Your father is not only my liege lord. He punished me for my wrongs in a manner befitting the Magnar of Winter. You know the meaning of that title?"

"A guardian of the people, not simply a king as the Andals assumed," Robb stated.

"Assumptions make asses of us all my lord," Roose smirked, "My Magnar taught me a hard lesson that day before the heart tree. I may play games with lesser men, but not with your father. Lord Eddard is a man of two very opposite natures. There is the face he shows to most, the honorable man most knows him as."

"And the Quiet Wolf," Robb intoned.

Roose nodded, "I have seen both faces my lord, and I never wish the eyes of the Quiet Wolf to fall upon myself again. I am your father's most loyal man; others may claim such but those are just words. As Torrhen Stark's bastard brother once offered to slay sleeping dragons, I would brave any danger your father asks of me."

Robb frowned, "But that loyalty does not extend to me, does it."

"We are First Men, my lord," Roose frowned, "Loyalty is not inherited it is earned. Prove to me as your father did that you are worthy of the title. Show me that you are not simply a pup sitting in a chair too big for him."

"Do you have any idea what this parchment is," Robb showed him the yellowed missive.

The muscle in Roose's jaw feathered as he recognized the emblem of his house, the seal broken, "I am not sure, but I would hazard it is the letter I sent your father offering Domeric for your sister Sansa. Your father replied that he would not make the mistake of his father and betroth his children before seeing that the match would be agreeable by those involved."

Robb's brows furrowed, "That response did not anger you?"

"I believed Domeric would be able to show your father that such a match would be agreeable," Roose snorted, "It was your Lady Mother's response that I found irksome. She was sure your father's friendship with the King would make him look to the North for a wife for his son. A simple bannerman's son was not good enough for her daughter."

"Mother wrote to you on this matter," Robb glared.

Roose shook his head, "Not to me, to my late wife. The letter upset her so she could not hide it from me. She wanted to ride to Winterfell and show it to Lord Eddard. Her sister was furious as well, she loved her nephew deeply."

"I am sorry I did not get to meet Domeric," Robb nodded, "All I've heard of him was good."

"I am sure he would have befriended you and Jon had the opportunity arose," Roose smiled at the memory of his trueborn son, "It was his wish to have a relationship with his own brother as he saw at the Redfort and heard of you and your brother. Unfortunately, there was just something broken in Ramsay."

A knock at the door preceded Margaery entering the solar, "My Lord Bolton, I am sorry I was not present to greet you to our home."

Roose stood at the Lady of Winterfell's entrance, "Apologies are not needed Lady Stark, your husband tells me you were preoccupied by a most joyous tiding."

Margaery smiled brightly, "It is truly a blessing. However, it did mean we could not attend Lord Edmure's wedding. There must be a Stark in Winterfell after all."

"Indeed," Roose looked between the young Lord and his Lady, "Lord Robb told me you invited Manse Rayder's wife to convalesce within Winterfell for her own pregnancy as well. Prudent maneuvering."

Margaery mused, "True, but I was also honest about helping a woman in the same condition as I."

Roose nodded, "Of course, and no doubt the Free Folk looks favorably on House Stark."

"Actually," Robb smirked, "They are a bit fearful of my wife."

(King's Landing)

Jorah stood with Tregar on the steps of the Red Keep. A crowd was forming around the base of Aegon's Hill near the hastily built gallows. The slaver sneered, "You are enjoying this."

"Not going to lie," Jorah smirked, "but in my dreams, it was my hands strangling the life out of you, not a rope." Jorah listened as the criers began speaking to the crowd, "You're lucky, Lord Stark was willing to hand you and your friends off to the Faith for a livelier execution. The King wanted this sordid mess done with before the start of the Tourney."

"Lucky me," Tregar looked over the gathering crowds, "least I will be remembered. All you will be is the lapdog that kicks the stool from beneath my feet."

Jorah snorted, "Oh, you will be remembered. We're doing it my people's way, just not with a heart tree. Won't be a stool. The noose goes around your neck, and then me and a couple of my boys will hoist you off your feet with the rope hanging over the scaffold. Your own weight tightens the noose. The last these people will see of your face is your fear and panic." Jorah tightened his grip on the man's arm, "They will remember the smell as your body loses control and your bowels and bladder are emptied, adding to the stench of this city."

Tregar struggled the rest of the way to the gallows. Pleaded and begged as the Septon overseeing the execution asked for his last words. The man wept as the rope was cinched around his neck, his hands and feet bound. Jorah pulled on the rope until Tregar's toes could no longer relieve his weight from the rope, then ordered it tied off.

Jorah watched as Tregar's struggles came to an end. As the current captain of the Gold Cloaks, it was his responsibility to address the crowd. As the last of Tregar's associates ceased twitching and simply swung, he stepped to the edge of the gallows, "The King's justice has been done, these men deprived others of their lives and freedom. For this, we consign them to the judgment of the gods Old and New. May their gods have mercy on their souls, for there is none to be found here. Any man who would deprive another of their freedom is deserving of the same fate." Jorah's throat burned with bile at the hypocrisy hidden in being the one to condemn these men.

There were cheers from the crowd, as rotten food stuff was hurled over Jorah's head to pelt the swinging bodies behind him. Jorah was quick to jump down from the gallows as his men made space for him. One of them chuckled in a thick Crownlander accent, "Northerners not accustomed to pelting the condemned with rotten turnips?"

"It's the North, we never have rotten turnips to throw," Jorah chuckled, "usually the pelting is with stones, and occurs on the march to the gallows, not after."

The Septon calmly removed a lettuce leaf that had landed on his shoulder, "The crowd is riled up, no doubt." He looked to where Ser Ilyn Payne was checking admiring their work, "The King's Justice is in a rather pleasant mood."

Jorah grimaced, "First execution the man has gotten to participate in since the King returned from the North. Though how do you know he's in a good mood, he still looks rather dour."

"That's Ser Ilyn for yeah," the Crownlander Gold Cloak joked, "Can't say a word on account the Mad King took his tongue. The only thing that makes him happy is doing the King's dirty work."

Grimacing Jorah called to the man, "Payne," when he looked at him he continued, "Let the crowd tire themselves out, then give the bodies to the Silent Sisters and have this mess cleaned up." Payne nodded then looked back to the gallows. Shaking his head Jorah looked to the other two, "I need a drink, but first I have to report to Renly that the deed is done."

The Crownlander grinned, "I'll get the boys to round a cask of ale from the tavern. Think we all could use a round after this." He looked to the Septon, "Want to join us, your holiness?"

"I took a vow to abstain," the Septon glanced back at the gallows, "but even the Seven Who Are One could not fault me after this."

Jorah gripped the Septon's shoulder, "It helps to imagine the pain and suffering these men caused. I don't have to imagine; I've seen the slave pins of Lys. Men, women, and children are stripped bare and paraded before potential buyers. Babes are being ripped from their mother's arms and sold to the highest bidder. Breeding pins where women were tied to a post and a man selected based on looks forced to rape her. That is the kind of thing these men did. I for one do not pity their fate."

Both the Crownlander and Septon looked ill, and the Septon spoke, "May the Stranger take them through all seven hells." The Crownlander nodded in agreement.

"If my gods got them then those seven hells would be a paradise in comparison," Jorah glared at Tregar's lifeless face.

(Tower of the Hand)

Quentyn Martell sat in the seat across from the empty chair behind the Hand's desk. Next to the hearth the dire wolf Lyanna lay watching him. Hearing the door latch, Quentyn stood, "Lord Hand."

Surprised, Ned Stark glared at the younger man, "Prince Quentyn, is there something I can do for you. I hope you are not troubled sharing a room with your brother."

"No," Quentyn smiled slightly, "It also isn't uncomfortable, actually Trystan more often than not comes to me when he has night terrors. Father would just scold him, and Arianne is not what you'd consider maternal."

"I have heard your mother has returned to Dorne," Eddard frowned.

"True, but Trys was rather young when she left, he barely knows her." Quentyn smiled tightly, "I'm actually here to speak with you on another matter. I know my uncle put my name forward to fill a vacancy in the Kingsguard. I am sure you know the reasons for this arrangement."

Ned nodded, "To remove you from the line of succession and pave the way for your brother to become the next Prince of Dorne with my youngest daughter at his side. I am not a fan of political maneuvering, but that doesn't mean I am unable to read the actions of my fellow lords." Ned snorted, "It is also rather evident when your mother had your brother gift Arya a cyvasse board and the way your cousins hover around her as they do."

Quentyn smirked, "How has she taken to the game?"

"Rather astutely," Ned grimaced, "her opening strategy could use some work, but she is quick to pick up her opponent's tactics. She and your brother were actually playing doubles with Edric and Nymeria when I returned to the tower."

"Who was her partner?" Quentyn asked.

"Trystan," Ned informed, "apparently your bother has a strong opening gambit but struggles at responding to his opponent's counter-offensive."

Quentyn smiled, "Seems they complement each other well."

"I still do not hold much hope of your father's desire to be fulfilled," Ned sighed, "Arya is a rather strong-willed being. Working together well in a board game does not mean they will make a good match."

"My father is rather determined to get what he wants," Quentyn mused, "he is also a master at playing the long game. He has the patience to wait years to see his plans come to fruition. He plotted his revenge against Houses Baratheon and Lannister the day news of my aunt's death reached Sunspear. He even thought of approaching you when he heard of your sister's fate, but he knew it would be hard to turn your back on a brother after having lost more than half your family to war. He planned to strike in such a way that it would not raise your ire and could very well bring you to our side."

Ned frowned, "Had your father approached me at the end of Robert's Rebellion I could not say how things would have turned out. Seeing Elia and the children lay upon the blackened stones where my father drew his last breath. To hear Robert discount the horrors that had been done to them, to dehumanize them as dragon spawn. Such callousness was not what I had been fighting for, not what I had broken my vows to Ashara to achieve."

Quentyn looked surprised, "What changed?"

"Greyjoy's Rebellion," Ned explained, "I did not bring the North because Robert called, just happened to be a coincidence. Euron Greyjoy attacked Bear Island several months before the burning of Lannisport, he harmed someone dear to me, and I was going to bring winter down upon all the Iron Born for his actions."

"Rather extreme, my lord," Quentyn gulped.

Ned's eyes hardened, "Watching one's sister die before your eyes pleading for you to promise to protect her only child. Then I saw another sister battered and dishonored. I am sure your uncle would agree my plans were quite agreeable."

"Uncle Obi would have been at your side egging you on if he'd heard of this," Quentyn confirmed, "I'm sure father would have lent you a legion of our best spears as well." Quentyn frowned, "No one ever wondered how the North arrived so swiftly? It has long been known the North is normally the last to arrive, you do have to march through a swamp that takes men on horse a month to cross."

Ned smirked, "A month on the causeway. It's shorter if you know who to ask for directions." Ned looked seriously at the young Dornishman, "When I met Robert again, we put the events in King's Landing behind us. Once more we fought for a common cause. In a way, Robert saved me from becoming the same callous creature he had been the day he stepped over Elia and the children to ascend the throne. He kept me from unleashing the full wrath of the North upon the Iron Islands. My men are loyal to me, and had I asked them to raise those islands and salt the ruins, they'd have done it without a second thought. That is the true power of a Magnar, the unquestioned loyalty of those who chose to follow where they lead."

Quentyn nodded, "I think I understand. You and father may approach things in different ways, but you are still men who would burn the world for those you love." He looked to the dire wolf by the hearth, "I love my family Lord Stark, my parents, my siblings, my cousins, even my foolishly reckless uncle. My punishment for forgetting that lies within the Pale Sword Tower, is to spend my days protecting Aegon and Jon, even Robert until he steps down."

"Whatever drove your father to disinherit you is between you and him," Ned emphasized, "but do not look at the kingsguard as a punishment. Barristan is looking to alter some of the traditions. That is why Berrien of Tarth and my former good uncle Brynden Tully have also been named. While membership in their ranks will still require forsaking claims to lands and titles. We must look to ways to ensure another Jaime Lannister or Cristian Cole cannot taint the orders ranks."

Quentyn frowned, "You don't mean?"

"Visenya modeled the Kingsguard upon a corrupted version of the Night's Watch. Many generations ago, long before the Targaryen even started their Freehold, there was a man of the Watch we only know as the Thirteenth Lord Commander," Ned looked at the young man seriously, "Before the Thirteenth the vows of the Night's Watch did not include mention of celibacy, in fact, there was no such inclusion until the coming of the Andals and their translation of the vows. They mistook the terms of taking no wife to mean the Night's Watch was to be celebrated."

"Does that not mean the same thing?" Quentyn looked confused.

Ned frowned, "Not when one sees the original runes the vows were written in. The actual translation would be I swear to claim no partner not bound to the Wall. The original Night's Watch included men and women. First Men much as the Rhoynar did not limit the roles of women. From what we have uncovered in the Nightfort, the order of stewards within the Watch was formed after the Sisters of the Watch were disbanded. The vows of the Sisters of the Watch included wording that their children were born of the Watch and would live for the Watch."

Quentyn blinked, "It was a hereditary order?"

"Yes, and they would recruit as well to bolster their numbers as they do to this day. It would also explain the Watch's long-standing internal dealings with matters such as rape and abuse, and unwanted attention. Even my late father found some of the wording on their codes of conduct did not make sense. That there were once women bound to the Wall does make the actual wording of the codes make sense now." Ned frowned, "It was the actions of the Thirteenth Commander that instigated the initial changes. Women were immune to the power he used to bind the Watch. To keep them from interfering in his plans to turn the Wall into his personal kingdom, he had the members of the Sisters of the Watch murdered by their own brethren. After his defeat no woman willingly volunteered to restart their order, and no man was willing to force the issue after what was done to the previous order."

Quentyn sighed, "So when the Andals arrived and saw the Wall guarded only by men. They took what they saw and their mistranslation to mean the Night's Watch was meant to be a celibate order." He frowned, "Why'd no one correct them?"

Ned shook his head, "Knowledge is power Quentyn, and the First Men lost much of their advantage when the Citadel fell to the Andal Invaders when the Hightower turned their cloaks to submit to the Faith. It was Gardner Greenhands greatest accomplishment and his greatest folly. The Andal had all they needed to crush the First Men in one place."

"It didn't help them against the North," Quentyn reminded.

"To some extent it did," Ned frowned, "We were still reliant on the Citadel's maesters for many reasons, more so their ability to understand common after the invasion ended. It became common practice among the First Men to not share our knowledge willingly. If the Andals came up with an assumed understanding of something, we let them keep to their belief in ignorance rather than correcting them. This became a double-edged blade as to keep things from the Citadel and Maesters, knowledge was passed verbally from parent to child, father to son, mother to daughter. What happens if a parent passes before they pass their knowledge, what happens when an heir and their father both die without properly preparing the spare heir?"

Quentyn noticed a document he had not seen during his wait for the Lord Hand, "Lord Stark, what is that?"

Eddard Stark mused, "An agreement between your father and me. As Princess Daenerys' guardian, I have to look after her well-being and ensure her interests are seen. As a member of the Kingsguard, you will hold no titles and claim no lands." Quentyn looked shocked, "As I said there will be a few modifications of the vows. No one will confuse you as Ser Cole or Ser Lannister."

(Two Days Later)

Aegon was disappointed there would be no squires' rounds, but the delays due to the planned swearing-ins and other announcements would mean to keep the people's attention they would need to keep things concise. A week of events was scheduled, the first day would be mounted challenge duels on the jousting field, day two would be the start of the archery competition, day three would be the melee, and day four would be the first round of jousting. Day five would see the champion's round of the archery competition, while day six would be one-on-one duels on the melee pitch, and finally, day seven would hold the remainder of the jousting competition.

Of his friends, only Loras and Quentyn would be competing in the jousting portion of the tourney. Jon had tried to talk Lord Stark into permitting their admission, even trying to remind him the North should be represented in the tourney honoring the Hand that originated from that kingdom. Lord Stark had coolly remarked that the North would be represented by Jorah Mormont and the two knights of House Manderly.

Lord Stark had acquiesced to Jon putting his name forward in the archery competition alongside Edric, but his brother and their friends had seen Jalabha Xho practicing. The Summer Islander had a good eye and impressive skill, and even Robert was betting on the man to take the laurels from the archery competition.

Aegon was tempted to likewise bet on the man, but Edric Dayne had slyly directed him to put his dragons on another contestant. Edric did not enter the competition with aspirations to win, like Jon he felt a need to show his respects to the man they both called father. Edric expected full well to be beaten by a common Marcher named Anguy, a man who rode in the company of Edric's knight Lord Beric Dondarrion.

Anguy had been with them in the North but had not made the journey to Winterfell. He'd remained in White Harbor and apparently occurred a sizable debt that Lord Beric had to bail the man out of. While a spendthrift the man had skills as an archer and was a close friend of Edric's. Such as that the young man had sworn himself to Edric so he could compete under the banner of House Dayne. This would also keep Edric and Anguy at opposite ends of the lists as competitors from the same House were never entered in the same batch of competitors.

The melee would also be an interesting contest as Gendry would be fighting under both House Baratheon and House Targaryen's banners. As would the kingsguard members Ser Arys and Ser Preston. Ser Mandon would be riding in the lists of the joust, and Arys would also be competing in the archery competition. For the first time in well over a decade, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen would be seen at a tourney in Westeros. Of course, Aegon would have to put money on his champions.

"My Prince," Aegon smiled as Sansa entered the royal box, they had discussed waiting until the criers could announce their betrothal. Yet Robert had vetoed it and said let the courtiers wag their tongues.

Aegon stood, "My Lady," he waited for her to take the seat next to him, "You think anyone has noticed yet?"

"If not, Lady Genna will be sure to start the gossip. The Old She-Lion is adamant that I have a Westerland girl among my ladies." Sansa sighed, "I suggested Myrcella was already in attendance, but even though they are blood, Genna Lannister admits the girl's origins make it improper."

"Did you remind her your closest lady in waiting is a dire wolf," Aegon smirked, "I'd think next to that an incestually conceived daughter of a disgraced queen would be almost pedestrian?" He looked to where his cousin Trystan and Sansa's sister Arya were seated, "How is it going with them?"

"They are children," Sansa ignored the fact that she and Aegon were barely a few years older than the younger pair, "To Arya, he is just a boy who has a few interesting hobbies and likes the same things she does. It would be no different than playing with Bran and Rickon in the godswood. She doesn't have dreams of a dashing knight sweeping her off her feet."

"I'll make sure cousin Robert knights me," Aegon teased.

Sansa shook her head, "Has Trystan said anything about Arya?"

"Like you said they are children," Aegon mused, "He thinks she is fun to be with, especially as Bran is too busy with his duties to play games in the godswood often. Uncle Doran is thankfully a patient man, but I do not doubt he has plotted."

"We could always lock them in a room until they either fall in love or kill each other," Both turned to see Quentyn and Jon had joined them, "I mean, I am pretty sure the little she-wolf can take my baby brother with her hands tied."

Jon snorted, "Thanks to the dire wolf that follows her everywhere."

"There is that." Quentyn nodded, "But yours and Lady Sansa's baby sister, well she has that fire. Trystan is rather mellow in comparison. Not saying he's not capable or anything, just father is putting a crushing amount of pressure on his thin shoulders."

While contemplating his cousin's words he noticed his aunt arrive with Shireen, "Aunt, cousin, welcome."

Quentyn and Jon moved down the bench allowing Daenerys and Shireen to sit beside Sansa. He noticed his young cousin smiling brightly, "Why Lady Baratheon what has brought such a smile to your lovely face." He made sure his voice held no hint of sarcasm, Shireen was very conscious of her scars.

Shireen looked to Daenerys who smiled conspiratorially, "Ser Arys accepted a challenge, he asked Lady Shireen for her favor to see him victorious."

"Who is he facing?" Jon asked.

"Lady Brienne of Tarth," Quentyn remarked.

"Lady?" Sansa frowned, "He is facing a woman?"

"Aye, though I would hesitate to call that woman a lady." Quentyn mused, "If she beats Arys at the joust and Ser Mandon in a one-on-one duel during the challenges in a few days. Ser Barristan will knight her, and she'll be given the White Cloak."

Daenerys looked to the Dornishman, "You don't approve?"

"I'm taking the White Cloak regardless of the outcome of my placement in the tourney," Quentyn mused, "The only nomination not competing is Ser Brynden Tully." He looked to Sansa, "Your granduncle was given leave due to your uncle's nuptials. Hear Ser Barristan plans to give him his cloak after Edmure makes an honest woman of the Kraken's daughter."

The conversation died down as Robert and Lord Eddard arrived with the rest of the small council. Aegon looked to Jon, "Where's Bran?"

"With Arys, he asked Ser Barristan if he could borrow him for today. I offered to squire for him, but he said Bran needed some practice seeing to a squire's duties without me hovering. Chance is Bran will be squiring for another knight when he comes of age." Jon nodded to where Arys had ridden onto the field with Bran carrying the kingsguard's banner. Other knights who would be competing in the challenge matches had similarly ridden out. Aegon noticed Gendry holding Sandor Clegane's banner.

The royal Herald stood on the podium below the royal box, "Ladies and gentle folk of the Seven Kingdoms. Today marks the opening events of the Hand's Tourney. Over the next seven days, our finest warriors will honor our beloved King's newly appointed Hand with displays of skill and daring. We also mark this day," Around the stands black banners with the three-headed red dragon of House Targaryen unfurled beside the crowned stag of House Baratheon, "As the restoration of House Targaryen, and the crowning of a new Crown Prince. Aegon, son of Rhaegar and Princess Elia of Dorne. Believed slain during the sacking of our fair city. Aegon was spirited from King's Landing by those loyal to Princess Elia before the fall of House Targaryen." At Robert's nudging Aegon stood, and much to his surprise, a cheer went up among the crowd.

The Herald continued, "In his infinite wisdom, upon the discovery of the former Queen's duplicitous actions, including fornication and producing children with her brother a sworn member of the Kingsguard. His Grace Robert of House Baratheon has taken under his custodianship Prince Aegon and has named him his heir." Another cheer went through the crowd.

Signaling for quiet the Herald started again, "To further stabilize the realm, His Grace did not only find Prince Aegon. Known only to a few, another son of House Targaryen yet lived. Princess Elia, as beloved as she was, lost the ability to bear Rhaegar another child. Yet the Princess was not without other means. At Harrenhall she found a means, in the form of Lady Lyanna Stark. The fair sister of our King's Hand. In her infinite kindness, Lady Lyanna gave the ultimate gift, a child. A child who was hidden within her own brother's household as the Hand's bastard son. King Robert was aware of his oldest and dearest friend protecting the last precious gift his sister gave. That child is now recognized as Jon of Houses Targaryen and Stark." Jon glowered at the man as Aegon motioned him to stand as well. Another cheer erupted.

Lord Eddard snorted as the Herald took a pause to let the cheering die down naturally, "Lord Tyrion, where'd you find this mummer."

"He comes highly recommended from Lord Tyrell, and Lord Oberyn vetted him." Tyrion supplied, "I reviewed his proclamation. You know the standard, make Robert look like a hero. Make Princess Elia and your sister out as tragic victims. The boys as gallant scions restored to their birthright. He's even got a nice posthumous antidote for Viserys."

Below them, the Herald motioned to settle the crowd, "Allas not all news is happy. Prince Viserys, mere moments before agents of our good king could reach him was cut down in the home of an Essosi merchant who'd promised him and his dear sweet sister sanctuary. Our king's man, our newly appointed commander of the Gold Cloaks Ser Jorah Mormont rescued Princess Daenerys Stormborn. Without regard for his own personal well-being, he returned the princess to Westeros, and to the shelter of his liege lord, our Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell."

As another cheer went up as Daenerys stood, Aegon looked to Tyrion, "How much information have you fed the man?"

Tyrion chuckled, "I decided to hold off on the whole ice demon led army of the dead marching upon the Wall for another day."

Again, the Herald motioned for quiet, "Why might you ask did our King linger in the North for so long. While we awaited his return. The King was ensuring the future, arranging a match between Prince Aegon and the daughter of the Hand, Lady Sansa Stark."

Aegon distinctly heard a growl from the area of the small council. Eddard's voice was a snarl, "Tyrion."

The Master of Coin yelped, "It wasn't me; I swear. He asked about the rumors, and I told him nothing was set in stone yet. I warned him that even hinting at it would be detrimental to both his and my well-being." Tyrion continued, "You know me, Lord Stark, I am many things, but when it comes to my own safety, little else matters."

Robert chuckled, "Give it a rest Ned, so the cat's out of the bag. Not like we weren't going to announce it before they set out for Riverrun anyway."

The antics of the small council caused Aegon to miss the announcement of the identities of the first challengers. Their banners revealed a Frey Knight was facing another Frey Knight. There was still internal strife within that House since the death of Old Walder Frey. His eldest son was doing an admirable job at trying to restore order without the involvement of his liege lord or the crown.

Their match ended in a draw; each having broken seven lances. Next up was Clegane, who quickly unhorsed an unlanded hedge knight. After Clegane, a Bracken knight challenged a Blackwood knight. That match ended with Bracken regretting his choices as when he was unhorsed his foot caught in his stirrup. Luckily for the man, Sandor had not left the field yet, and his horse Stranger blocked the horse and slowed him to a canter. The Blackwood knight was quick to aid his countrymen regardless of their families' ancient rivalries.

Once that excitement had been dealt with. Aegon noticed Sansa and Jon tense as Ser Beric took to the field on foot, and on his horse, Edric Dayne sat in armor. Jon's jaw clenched as he muttered, "Father is going to kill him."

"Not if I get him first," Sansa hissed.

Across from Edric a mystery knight appeared in cobbled together armor. Aegon frowned, "Who is he being challenged by?" His eyes swept the stands, and all his inner circle was accounted for.

Quentyn gave his cousin a knowing look, "Look behind us, who's missing."

Aegon realized one member of the small council was missing, "Uncle Oberyn, but that armor."

"You really think Uncle would openly declare challenging a squire?" Quentyn mused, "He said Ned needed some clout before taking up his duties as Lord of Starfall. Facing the Red Viper of Dorne in a tourney would be a great story."

Sansa glared, "What happens to Edric, is what happens to your uncle."

Quentyn gulped, "I'm sure it will be fine." The young dornishman grimaced, "Nothing like what happened to Willas Tyrell has happened in years."

"What are you going on about?" Oberyn walked into the box with a bottle of Dornish Red, "Ah, I was worried I'd be late and miss the show."

"Uncle," Aegon blinked, "If you are here?" He noticed unlike his children Lord Stark wasn't snarling or making death threats, "Who's Edric facing?"

Lord Stark chuckled, "His mother, did she never tell you of her time growing up in the Water Gardens." He indicated to Oberyn, "Her favorite pastime was unhorsing your uncle."

Oberyn hummed, "Yes, Lady Ashara was always a vision, the Dornish sun wreathing her head in ethereal beauty as I looked up at her from whatever patch of ground, she decided would bear the honor of receiving my posterior."

It took eleven lances in total before Edric was unseated from his horse. The young man stood up as his opponent took a victory lap. He winced as Beric reached him and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "You learn anything from this, my young friend?"

"Yes, never doubt mother's horsemanship," Edric grimaced, "Think father is mad."

Beric looked to the stands, "I believe you have more to fear from your siblings if the looks they were sending your way were anything to go by."

Edric glanced up and could see Sansa restraining herself from coming to see that he was all right. It would not make sense for any member of House Stark to show more concern over him than anyone else. He saw Bran similarly hesitating until Ser Arys leaned down and spoke to him. He handed the banner pole he was holding to the knight before running forward, "Lord Dayne, do you need assistance to the Maester's tent."

"Thank you, Lord Brandon, but I'm fine just winded a little. That last lance caught me harder than I was expecting." Edric assured his brother before heading for the indicated Maester's tent. Bran nodded before running back to Arys and retaking the banner.

After several more challenge matches, it was finally time for Arys to face Brienne of Tarth. Bran struggled with the lance, so Gendry showed up to help hand them to the knight. Bran watched as Arys and Brienne squared off. During the first pass, both lances shattered on impact. As he cantered back over to them Arys winced, "Damn, that woman hits harder than Mandon during a bar brawl."

Gendry grimaced, "She's aiming to end it fast."

"You're telling me," Arys took the offered lance, "Selmy said she had to win or draw." He indicated the favor in his bracer, "I ride with the honor of Princess Shireen at stake, so we're going to draw."

Bran frowned as the knight rode again, both lances broke again. Arys was knocked backward by the blow but kept his seat. Upon returning he dropped his shattered lance and waited for another, "That's four, are you going to make it another five tilts?"

Gendry looked at Bran, "That's only if they keep breaking lances at this rate. Each has to break seven to make it a draw."

"I'll get my seven in the next five that's for sure," Arys smirked at them, "She's built like a stone wall, and hasn't budged an inch when we meet." He chuckled as Gendry gave him a new lance, "Should have put you in my place Gendry, think another born of Stormlander stock would have done better."

"I've never jousted," Gendry admitted.

Arys moved to put his visor back down, "This isn't jousting Gendry, this is riding into a wall while staying on this horse."

The next tilt Brienne's strike was not as clean, and at first appeared to have survived the impact with Ary's shield. Bran watched as she looked at the lance before riding over to the field judge. The judge nodded and raised a flag.

Arys sighed in relief, "Thank the Seven she noticed that."

"What?" Bran looked at the two Southrons.

Gendry explained, "Lance was cracked but not broken. Often times the knights don't notice. Lady Tarth's squire is just a kid from Flea Bottom getting some coins to hand her lances. If she didn't notice the lance could shatter in the next tilt. Most injuries happen when lances shatter."

Arys nodded, "When I was a squire one of my brothers rode in a tourney where a lance shattered. Both knights were hit by debris. One lost an eye from a piece that made it through his visor, and the other died from a larger piece that impaled their chest. A field judge was also struck in the leg."

Bran gulped as Arys grabbed another lance from Gendry and prepared for the next tilt. This time it was Ary's lance that didn't break, but the field judge on their end of the pitch raised a flag. Arys discarded the lance as he returned to their end, "Who made these lances, barely tapping the shield and they go to pieces."

Gendry looked to Bran before replying, "We can find out."

Arys shook his head, "Later, three more to go and we'll have ourselves a nice little draw."

"What if she calls for a challenge of first blood to declare a victor?" Gendry asked.

"What's that?" Bran asked.

Arys grimaced, "She won't, Selmy told her win or draw. She's to fight Mandon in the one-on-one duels. No need to take this further than it has to go."

With Arys barely holding on through the next two tilts, Bran noticed Ser Preston Greenfield had appeared. The Kingsguard glowered at his sworn brother, "Arys, the Knight Commander told you not to overdo it. Just take the fall."

"Can't," he showed the other kingsguard the favor in his bracer, "Princess Shireen has given me her favor, I cannot in good conscience do less than see this through."

Preston grumbled, "Damn fool, the Princess would much rather you be still breathing." Sighing he stepped closer, "There's nothing in the rules about switching shields, give me the beat-up slab of iron and take mine." He pulled his shield from his back, "Aim to catch her lance in the middle of the symbol of our order. It'll hurt like hell but her lance will break. Don't think it matters where you aim your lance, that woman is harder than the Mountains of Arryn."

The crowd was silent as the contestants lined up for what would likely be the final tilt of the day. Bran watched as the horses charged down their lanes. Each rider's lance aimed at the opponent's shield. At the moment of impact, there were not two cracks but three. Ser Arys let out a resounding cry of pain but remained on his horse, his shield arm hung limply at his side.

The Herald was already announcing the draw as Arys' horse dutifully carried his rider to his end of the yard. Preston and Gendry were quick to help the knight down as Bran grabbed the horse's reigns. Greenfield was the first to speak, "How bad?"

"I can still feel my fingers, that's a good sign right?" Arys grits his teeth as a maester rushes over.

Notes:

Wow, you just read over 12k words, are your ready for more?

- Yep, I caved to peer pressure. Doreah (who probably won't feature too much as I'm trying to avoid too many OCs in this story) is Jorah's daughter.

- Tywin and Rodrik and our friend the Sparrow's scenes. Not much to say think they speak for themselves. Tywin is playing the game, and using Lancel to do it. Rodrik is suspicious and feeling the need to protect his daughter. The Sparrow is taking a page out of the Red Priests playbook and getting a powerful benefactor to back his movement within his religious order.

- Jory and Osha really need a do not disturb sign on their door.

- Roose is being honest here, he is a bad man who will do bad things, but in his head he is doing them for the welfare of his people. The Right of the First Night was a First Men practice begun in the Age of Heroes, the Andals adopted the practice as a Lord's right, and then the Targaryen banned because they saw the right was being abused. Roose is also loyal not to House Stark, but to Eddard personally. I.E. he tells Robb to prove to him he is deserving of his loyalty as Eddard has proven in the past. The take away here is the cannon Roose doesn't see himself as betraying the Starks, but protecting the North. (Not forgiving his actions just giving more complexity other than Tywin bribed him.) Also, Roose X Val, think that neutralizes the Leech Lord?

- Jorah and Tregar ... and we're moving on.

- Ned and Quentyn's discussion. You really thing Doran would completely leave his son out to dry? He needed Quentyn out of the picture, and they were running out of suitable matches for Daenerys. So, rewrite the kingsguard vows to permit a union between a member of the guard and an unwed member of the royal family. Child of such a union would take the name of the royal family as their kingsguard parent would hold no titles and claim no lands. Basically just chucking the celibacy portion of the vows, using the idea Visenya based the Kingsguard on a faulty understanding of the Night's Watch vows due to a loss in translation issue.

- Tourney time. Tyrion's PR man almost got him eaten, any guesses on who tipped the Herald off on the betrothal? I'm thinking Edric is going to need an entire table full of lemon bars to appease Sansa after his little stunt at taking to the jousting field. Even if he was just facing his mother who would never intentionally hurt him. Arys held his own against Brienne, don't worry he only got a bad sprain, probably have to stay out of the archery competition.