Author's Note: I know, I know. You are all so eager to read the next chapter of "A Web of Lies". But it occurred to me that I wasn't being faithful enough to George R.R. Martin's vision of "A Song Of Ice And Fire". And by that I mean I was sticking with the story everyone wanted to read and not abandoning that in order to tell the history of the Targeryens and events that happened before what we actually care about.

As such I present A Vision of Greatness, a new prequel series to "A Song of Metal and Marvels"!

Benjen

Wiping his hands upon the fabric that had been hung by the basin, Benjen checked his fingernails to make sure they were clean. He knew that if he didn't properly clean his hands he would receive a firm scolding from Lady Cassandra for not properly seeing that he was clean of anything that might cause infection in their man she was overseeing.

'Well, firm for her,' he thought to himself as he entered into the inner chamber, where the woman in question was looking over the overly emotional young man that was her charge. 'The day she raises her voice or manages to show any true human emotion other than blandness might be the day the dragons return to Westeros.'

Lady Cassandra was seen as beautiful by some but to many others the young woman had many little flaws that marred her ability to be seen as one of the great and desirable women of the world. She had long dark brown hair that sometimes appeared black under certain light but her choice of styling it wasn't very flattering. The woman preferred long bangs, thick and straightened to very well near her eyebrows. It was said by some at court it was because she was embarrassed by her long forehead. Others though were quick to claim there was a mole upon it that had resulted in plenty of taunts that she was a unicorn in her youth. While there were plenty of women that had bangs and managed to make the look appear alluring the thick curtain that Lady Cassandra preferred made her look more like a novice studying to be a Septon than a beauty.

She had high checkbones but when she smiled they tended to round due to a puffiness in her face, which itself was oval shape. Thus the sharpness that others had, such as Cersei Lannister, disappears so it felt as if she were trying to wiggle her nose all the time and failing horribly. Not helping matters was that she had a weak chin which only lended to the rounding of her face.

Of course there were many women with round faces and they had their appeal. It made a woman seem young and more innocent and there were plenty of men who desired that in a wife. High cheekbones could be loving in the young but make the old look like a cadaver. A round face though was youthful even when one began to gray. However Lady Cassandra also had a long nose that simply did not fit her round face, making it stand out all the more.

Her breasts were very modest and her form slender, so that one could not point to any of them and claim that her form made up for her facial features. Benjen had heard more than one guard comment that if one were to try and sleep with Lady Cassandra it would be like sleeping with a boy. A malnourished one at that.

'Of course it is rather cruel to focus on one's looks such as this. It feels as if it is the work of an author who is trying to pad out his writings by putting in a lot of description only to realize that it is coming off as rather sexist but it is too late to alter the chapter.' Benjen frowned at that, not quite sure where that thought had come from. 'Though I suppose so long as the author in question took a moment to actually describe a man in such detail and with such intensity then all would be fine.' He ran his fingers through his hair, which may or may not have been brown, so that his hair didn't fall into his non-descript face.

Still, even with all her flaws there would have been plenty that would have been willing to marry her. But none did… and what hurt her the most was her personality.

Benjen Parker was new to surviving the Gold Cloaks and as such tended to be kept in the castle, for it was worried by the Commander that he wasn't quite ready to journey into the city to see the King's Justice done. Part of that was probably because even with the whiskers he was trying to grow he looked like a lad of ten and three despite the fact that he was actually ten and nine. Which, in his opinion, shouldn't have mattered because fucking Jaime Lannister was only ten and five and allowed to guard the king! Benjen could handle the riff raff of Flea Bottom!

His brother Rickard, when he saw him, would tell him of his adventures while Benjen could only sit in silence. Which was all the more stinging because Rickard was a year younger than him but had managed to grow a beard that was so thick and luxurious that even Benjen wanted to run his hands through it. In order to prove himself capable he had taken to performing tasks others did not desire and currently that was working with Lady Cassandra to see to the noble prisoners the Red Keep held. He had been working with her for well over 7 weeks now and thus was the greatest expert in confirming the whispers of the rest of Queen Rhaella's circle of ladies in waiting: Cassandra was a complete and utter fraud.

"Stay there," he heard the woman in question say in her stilted, dry, and monotone voice. "I am worried about you."

"I can tell," said the lordling she was looking over, his tone making it clear he didn't believe her for a second.

"I want to make sure that you are healthy," she replied in a tone that was as dry as a septa's taint in the middle of the Dornish desert as she moved about checking over the wounds he'd given himself in his latest bout of anger. Sadly that was a common thing when it came to the high born prison; sometimes he was polite and jovial and making jokes and then suddenly the rage would be upon him and he would be ranting and screaming and bloodying himself half from his attempts to escape and half from the fact that he just lashed out without thought.

'Honestly he and the King should be best friends,' Benjen thought to himself as hestepped into the room proper. When looked at Lady Cassandra and how she was handling the prisoner he couldn't help but wince at what he saw.

Rather than some scene in a story where a noble woman hitched up her skirt and helped a fallen warrior deal with some injury, thus setting them upon the pathway of love, Lady Cassandra moved about the noble man like she had never seen another human before. Her movements were utterly jerky and what she was trying to do… well, Benjen honestly had no idea. Perhaps she was trying to clean the cut on his forehead. Or push him back down upon the bed. It was possible she was just going to smack his forehead several times and declare that was all she needed to do. He couldn't be sure.

When people said that Lady Cassandra was a fraud it wasn't merely because the daughter of Lord Rowan's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommate claimed she was actually a descendant of House Webber (and thus, in a completely convienent sort of way, would be able to tie herself DIRECTLY to the Lannisters). Or that she stated that she knew things that no one else did when every bit of evidence showed that the woman would barely understand how to put her own shoes on if she was given three guesses which foot went into each one. No, Lady Cassandra was seen as a fraud because she simply didn't understand human emotion. She went through life trying to fake it but failed. At parties she would wait nearly ten seconds before laughing at a joke and the giggles were so forced that it instantly killed the mood. People would tell her of great tragedies that had befallen their family and her response was to stare blankly. When people were sad she seemed indifferent. When calm and silence was asked for she would suddenly speak her mind.

There were many theories on this was. Some claimed that Cassandra was a spy… a daring one that hid herself by being utterly obvious. After all, when one worked so hard to draw attention to themselves they couldn't be a spy, now could they? Others claimed that she was a sadist who enjoyed watching people squirm. Benjen had heard from a few servants that she was attempting some grand experiment, one that would prove her better than any maester when it came to understand the nature of humanity, by acting utterly strange until someone finally spoke up and asked just what was wrong with her; that would in turn lead to her revealing the truth. But one couldn't merely ask once they knew of the experiment as that would ruin everything.

Benjen just thought she was an idiot.

"Ah, Benjen," the noble lordling said with a smile as he looked up at him, attempting to rise up in his head. "Good of you to come and visit me. I was wondering if you would arrive to ask me more questions. Come to ask me about the horse I rode into the capital and if it was really a horse? Or perhaps how I plan to spit poison at little Viserys. Maybe more questions about if I ever saw Joanna Lannister naked?"

"None today," Benjen stated.

"Oh? Has the king finally seen reason and agreed to give up his son so he might answer to his crimes against House Stark?" The man sat up a bit taller and his happy mood began to sour as the anger returned. "Or even better return my sister to me?"

Benjen sighed. "You aren't making things easy on yourself, Lord Brandon."

Seven weeks prior Lord Brandon Stark had foolishly marched into the throneroom of the Red Keep and declared that King Aerys' son and heir was a kidnapper, a rapist, and many other things that involved the small size of his penis, the foulness of his ejaculate, the state of his asshole, and a reference to a spoiled turkey. Naturally King Aerys, who was rather fickle in how he handled those around him when he was in a GOOD mood, had demanded Brandon Stark and his companions locked up. Brandon had at least been given a room, though after he had tried to escape he had been chained to the bed that was locked to the floor with heavy spikes; Brandon wore the shackle like a badge of honor around his ankle, refusing to hide it. But he was able to bath and sleep in a bed and get regular meals. His companions were in the Black Cells and Benjen was glad dealing with them was handled by the dungeon master as frankly he wanted no part in that misery.

But questioning Brandon Stark about seemingly nothing things like people he had never met and places he'd never been to? It was almost as bad. Not only because Benjen felt like a fool for doing so but because Brandon made every effort to be a smug ass. And every time Benjen reported what he had learned to the Hand of the King he would only be told to ask new questions.

"Oh, let's not talk about me," Brandon said, at once becoming joking again. "Let's talk about you. Cassandra, could you bring us something to drink?" He moved to smack her rump only to pause, look it over, and let his shoulders slump before shaking his head.

Benjen sighed as the woman did as asked, apparently forgetting that Brandon was a prisoner and not her lord. "If you don't give the king something then he is going to begin taking things away from you. Believe me, please, you don't want to be down in the Black Cells." He leaned in close. "Varys has been practicing his poetry down there."

"I've heard tell that your brother is about to become a father. Is that true?" Brandon asked, ignoring the threat of terrible poetry.

Benjen looked over at Cassandra, wondering if she had told him that bit of news, but was taken aback by what he saw. The woman seemed utterly befuddled by the bottle of wine that she had grabbed. She looked at the cork before scratching it, as if expecting that to cause it to pop out. Perhaps that was the case, Benjen considered.

"…it is," Benjen said. "Rickard's wife is expecting."

"So you will be an uncle!" Brandon declared.

"All the fun, none of the responsibility," Cassandra said even as she began to pat the bottom of the bottle.

"I don't…" he shook his head, deciding not to try and figure out the logic of that statement. "I don't see why this matters."

"Just curious what you will tell the little tyke when he's old enough to ask what you do. Will you proclaim how you lick the boots of the king that took my… my… by the Old Gods, woman, use the corkscrew!" Benjen turned to see that Cassandra had begun to pet the bottle like it was a cat.

"Oh," she said blandly before taking the corkscrew… and scraping it against the bottle.

Brandon stared at her for a long moment before slowly turning to Benjen. "I've fucked a lot of crazy women but that is one I wouldn't risk sticking my dick in."

Benjen found himself agreeing but he quickly schooled his features. "Lord Brandon… please. You are already in grave danger and your refusal to retract your claims-"

"Retract my claims?" Brandon said and Benjen winced as he realized his folly; the wolf's blood was warming in Brandon's veins once more. "That silver bastard snatched my sister away and you demand I just… let it go? Do I look like Lady Elsa?" He let out a roaring laugh that tampered off into a snarl. The man began to move off his bed and Benjen's hand went to his sword. "The fucking dragons… they think that because we have given them power they can do whatever they want! That they don't answer to anyone! But the truth is-"

"When you take on responsibility, great power will come," Cassandra said, still fiddling with the bottle.

"…no," Brandon said, shaking his head. "What are you blathering about woman?"

"Only that you do not understand responsibility or power."

Sometimes Benjen wondered if Cassandra heard words and made up her own meanings for them.

Before he could deal with the madness the vacant-eyed woman was spouting off there was a knock on the door and Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard entered; Benjen hurriedly saluted but Brandon Stark merely scoffed.

"Come to finally uphold you vows, Ser Barristan?" Brandon said darkly. "Or when you pledge to defend the innocent do you mutter under your breath, "Unless the Targaryens are involved then they can rape and pillage as much as they want"?" He took a step forward. "Its amazing how white you keep that cloak when your soul is stained so deeply."

"You have been summoned, Lord Brandon. Your father arrived last night."

"Finally!" Brandon declared, throwing up his hands into the air. "Maybe he can get him to see sense!"

Ser Barristan turned to Benjen as several of the castle guard marched in. "You are relieved, Gold Cloak. Wash up and get to the throne room; King Aerys demands all be in attendance for the trial. You too, Lady Cassandra."

"Sometimes we need many eyes to see the things two eyes can not," she said and Benjen supposed that some might have found that deep but everyone in that room didn't quite get what she was trying to say. From the way she tilted her head after she said it and the vapid expression she wore Benjen got the sense even she didn't know why she had said the words that had passed along her lips.

Benjen sighed and made for the chambers kept for the gold cloaks in the Red Keep, hoping that, by getting away from Cassandra, he might regain something that resembled sanity.

~MC~MC~MC~

"This is madness," he whispered.

Because of his position of being, at the moment, one of the Gold Cloaks favored by Aerys (he didn't know why… he hadn't gotten anything out of Brandon Stark and others had been banished for far less… maybe he was just very lucky? Yes, that had to be it and he was destined to live a long and happy life and that swamp witch who had claimed that he was destined to die so his nephew could feel eternal guilt was mad) Benjen had been allowed to stand close to the throne… and witness Lord Rickard Stark in his grand steel armor, wrapped in thick ropes above a great pile of kindling. Pyromancers were happily preparing jars of combustible fluid with a look of utter glee; not wildfire… thank the Gods for that though Benjen was wondering if the gods were listening at all because how could they allow such a thing like the sight before him to happen? The delight the pyrmancers shared was not held by any in attendance, for the horror of what was about to happen weighed on them all.

"Be quiet," Ser Barristan whispered.

"This is wrong," Benjen hissed back. "He's going to burn him alive."

"Actually I think he's going to cook him alive," Cassandra stated, the only one in the throne room showing no reaction to what they were witnessing.

"…yes, thank you," Benjen muttered. "Ser Barristan-"

"I swore a pledge to my king," the knight said.

"And that means that all other vows are stomped down?" Benjen growled. "Brandon was right about you… this will stain you forever. No deed you have done and none you will do will be able to cleanse yourself for this."

"…I know," Ser Barristan sad and though his voice was steady and his face stony Benjen knew that within the knight was utterly rattled. But he also found he didn't care; the man deserved every ounce of shame that his inaction would bring.

'Just as I will,' Benjen though, his hand never once inching towards his sword.

"He could still survive," Cassandra commented.

"…how?" Benjen asked her even thought he REALLY didn't want to.

"How would you know if you could climb a wall, if you've never tried?"

"What?" Benjen snapped, Ser Barristan letting out a soft cough to get him to quiet down.

"Until you try something impossible you can't say it is impossible. Perhaps Lord Rickard can survive being cooked in his own armor."

Benjen merely set his jaw and ignored the woman. Which was easy because right after she said those words Brandon Stark was brought into the room, a Essosi leash wrapped around his neck. At once Benjen knew the cruel trick Aerys was going to play and he fought every urge to shut his eyes.

"And now," Aerys said, "to deal with you! The one that disgraces my family!"

"Aerys!" Brandon roared, lunging forward only for the White Bull and Ser Arthur Dayne to force him back. "Your souls will all burn for this!"

"What do I care for burning? I am a dragon!" The old man cackled and giggled, clapping his hands.

Brandon whipped around and glared at Ser Arthur. "Every night, when you close your eyes, know I will be waiting in your dreams. I will kill you a thousand times and you will NEVER escape!"

"Enough!" Aerys roared, his good mood suddenly gone. "You will pay for all you have done!"

"What I have done?!" Brandon snarled, baring his teeth. "Your cumstain of a son kidnapped my sister! Who knows what foul things he is doing to her!"

That… made Aerys pause. "Oh? Did you want to fuck her?"

"What, no!" Brandon said quickly… perhaps a bit too quickly… "I am betrothed to Catelyn Tully."

"You are betrothed to someone who isn't your sister? That is disgusting!" Aerys said, crinkling his nose. "You deserve death… and I don't care what any of you think!" He waved his hand at Brandon even as he glared at those gathered in the throne room. "I know what some of you are thinking: spare them. They are but boys. What threat could they be to you, Aerys? You are so strong and handsome and your penis is so big and you fucked Joanna Lannister despite what everyone thinks!" He looked at everyone, silently demanding they dare and contradict him. "I dare you to contradict me!" he said no silently at all.

Cassandra stepped forward only for Ser Barristan and Benjen to grab her and drag her back.

Aerys, not noticing what they had done, continued on with his rant. "Yes, they're teenagers now, but in the future…" he trailed off before looking off to Ser Barristan who, after a moment, drew his sword and tossed it to the ground just out of reach of Brandon. Elia Martel's uncle had tried the lash to the door of the Great Hall, knotting it several times before stepping away. "Now then, young Northsman… your father's salvation is there. Take up the sword and you can free him. No one will stop you. I swear this to you."

"Don't you dare, Brandon!" Rickard shouted from where he hung. "You will be strangled trying to go for that sword! Let me die!"

"Or go and untie yourself…" Benjen muttered, wishing he could call out the common sense advice.

"Father, I will not watch you suffer like this!"

Rickard snarled in annoyance. "use your head for once, you stupid foolish boy! He can not kill you… he knows that he can't do so without staining his honor. I foolishly demanded a trial by combat but with you a trial MUST be held. But if you play his game you do his work for him!"

Brandon… took a deep breath and calmed himself.

"Very well, father," Brandon said before shooting Aerys an arrogant smirk. "You've failed, your highness. I won't play along with this mummur's farce."

"Very well," Aerys said as he settled back onto his throne… before reaching into the folds of his long robe. "But then I suppose I will need to enjoy this ice cold Pepsi all by myself!" He pulled out the blue can, running his fingers along its surface before cracking it open and taking a long slow pull from it. "mmmm… so good…"

Rickard and Brandon shared a look.

"…I have nothing, my son."

Brandon let out a scream and rushed forward, trying to get to the can instead of the sword even as the pyromancers lit the kindling ablaze.

"This is monsterous," Benjen muttered.

"I agree," Ser Barristan said. "I will regret till my dying day this moment." He shook his head. "To stand here as a man is denied the crisp delicious taste of a cold Pepsi? For shame."

"This isn't what matters," Cassandra stated. "None of this matters. The great threat is coming towards us and we must prepare."

Normally Benjen would have ignored her but the way she said the words with a handful of emotion… it made him pause and actually pay attention to her.

"Against who?" Benjen asked.

"Him," she said, pointing to a random Dornish man that was just… standing there. Doing nothing.

"Him?"

"He is the most evil being in all of Westeros."

"…him?"

Cassandra nodded (though, with how she did it, it was hard to call it a 'nod' what with how jerky and awkward it was). "He was in the Summer Isles with my mom when she was researching spiders right before she died."

"…I'm going to leave now," Benjen said.

"You know the best thing about the future? It hasn't happened yet."

"I don't care!"

~Many Years Later…~

Matt Murdock frowned as he stared at the physical embodiment of Chaos.

"…and yet we can't be in your story?" he asked, the rest of the Defenders glowering at the deity.

"This is really good Pepsi," Chaos said with a wink.

Author's Notes: Hey guys, Mr. Chaos again. It just occurred to me that I am STILL not being faithful to George R.R. Martin and how he is handling his creation. And by that I mean taking a completely unneeded break right in the middle of the action! So this is all you will be getting for a while!

Also happy April Fool's Day.