The Last Wolf and the Northern Dragon

by Alperez16

Two lives are taken and two not, changing the game forever. Jon Snow is raised by his uncle Benjen to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Rhaella Targaryen escapes to Essos to raise her children and plot her revenge.

20. He Brings The Storm

(The chapter is not entirely in chronological order as events and interpretation of those events overlap and are seen from different perspectives)

Storm's End 296 AC.

Jon Stark.

Starfall had been a boon to his very soul. His time there was almost idyllic and he wished for nothing more than to stay for a few moons longer. The raven about the tourney being held by Stannis Baratheon, however, changed all of that. Or it did temporarily at least. So after a long conversation with his mother, another with Meera, and one with Ser Symon, it was decided that he had no other option to attend. The mere fact that his betrothed would be doing so almost made it impossible for him not to.

In truth, however, it was the fact that those in King's Landing would be aware that he was in Dorne that truly sealed Jon's attendance at the tourney. The King and Queen would be attending, as too would the Crown Prince, for Jon not to do so when he was as close as he truly was to Storm's End, would be seen as yet another snub. Something that his mother had told him that Robert Baratheon would already be feeling due to the news of his and Margaery's betrothal.

"He'll not take it well, Jon. The betrothal alone would be enough for that, but knowing you were here…"

"I wish not to go, mother. Were I in the North I'd not have to and so why should I do so when I'm exactly where I wish to be?"

"Because, unlike an acceptance that the North is so great a distance away, there shall be none regarding Starfall, Jon, as well you know. Not to mention the fact that you attended one tourney already and so, to not attend the other…"

"Can I return here?"

"Jon?"

"Once it's over, can I come back here instead of heading back to the North?"

"Oh, Jon, my sweet boy." his mother embraced him and Jon welcomed her doing so.

He could almost feel that embrace still. The warmth of his mother's arms and the smell of her as she held him tightly. They were memories that he cherished and ones he was glad he'd been able to reinforce during his time by her side. As too were the memories of his cousins, by choice if not by blood. Young Ned had been so happy to have another boy to spar with and Jon had much enjoyed teaching him all he could. Allyria had at first been so wroth with him over misconceptions that he had feared they'd never be close. By the end of his visit, those fears had been completely laid to rest and his older cousin now named him as truly as he did her.

Still, he'd be a liar if he said that it was not his time with his mother that he'd look back on with fondness later. The welcome he'd received from her, along with the advice she'd given him, was something that he'd truly missed during their parting. Jon was happy and relieved to find that she too had missed him as much as he had her and that she felt relief when he still named her a mother true. Ashara later confided in him that she had expected that the older he got the less that would be so.

"Never," Jon said firmly, as he had then.

If there were one thing he could change, other than having to leave at all, it would be that he'd be doing so as alone as he had. Neither his cousins nor his mother would be welcome at Storm's End or in Robert Baratheon's presence and Jon would not allow them to be spoken down to in his own. While Meera wished not to attend another tourney if it could be helped and so he'd given his friend leave to remain at Starfall until his return. Jon had then put her feelings above his own as he would much rather have her by his side than not.

There would be few if any Northmen at the tourney either, or so his mother had told him. The distance that was no obstacle for Jon to travel to the Stormlands would truly be one for his Bannermen. So unless there were some in the South already or they had business there, it would only be Jon and those with him who'd represent the North. Jon both hated that it meant he'd need to compete and yet relished it at the same time if he was being honest with himself. Though Syrio he knew would very much not and Ser Symon now wished to take his fencing master's place in the melee and would forgo the joust to do so.

As for what he'd face once he got there, on this, Jon was torn. Firstly, Margaery would be attending and he knew not how he truly felt about that. His mother had spoken far more fondly of his betrothed than Jon had expected and she'd explained somewhat why Margaery may feign reluctance to be wed. Jon listened keenly and while he did not fully believe what his mother said, he at least took it into account. Secondly, it would be Robert Baratheon and in his regard, his mother was far more wary and much less forgiving. The conversations they'd had about his father had for once been ones where his mother had kept her counsel, and instead spoke only about what meeting his killer again may make Jon feel.

Lastly, and mayhap most worryingly, had been what his mother had told him about Catelyn Baratheon. How the fact that Jon, in her mind, would be the epitome of all that the gods had taken from her, and so he should not expect the woman to even be courteous had been a surprise to him. Not that Jon didn't agree with the words that his mother had spoken regarding his uncle's wife, but more that he'd not truly considered how she may feel when it came to Jon himself. Now, he knew full well that in him she'd see all she lost and may blame him for it, so he'd be prepared for whatever she aimed his way. He'd even forgive her for most of it as long as it was him and him alone that she disparaged.

"Should she speak ill of my mother, then she may find she's awakened the dragon," Jon said softly.

His time at Starfall had seen Jon grow increasingly into the role and life he'd chosen for himself. The conversations with his mother, along with the tales he'd heard of his uncle and how close he was to his father, all combined to make that so. While the decision he'd made and the letter he'd sent to his grandmother had almost forced him to do so as well. Jon found that being in Dorne brought up things that while he'd thought much on, he now spent far more time considering. Not least of which had been his brother, sister, and their mother and the fates they'd suffered because of who they were.

"I see no babes only Dragonspawn." his mother said angrily as they sat atop the Palestone Tower. "That's what he said as the bodies were placed in front of him. Your brother was but a babe in the cradle and your sister, no more than three nameday's old, Jon. While their mother was as good and gentle a woman as ever lived."

"She was your friend, was she not? Princess Elia."

"My truest friend, Jon. As close to me as Meera is to you."

"And my brother and sister?" he asked softly.

"Aegon was but a babe, Jon, he did as all babes do and yet there was a light in his eyes that…..Rhaenys….by the gods, Jon, there was never a sweeter child born into your House, not until the day I held you in mine own arms did I ever even believe another could come close."

"I…I wish I knew them, Mother." Jon whispered. "I feel bad that I've not thought of them more than I have."

"Yet you've thought of them much have you not?"

"Not every day, Mother, nor have I mourned them as I should have."

"Then let us mourn them together, my son."

They had and he did. Yet another more powerful feeling had threatened to take over and given where they were going, it was one he needed to force down deep inside of himself. Egg helped greatly with that, and Jon thanked the Old Gods that he'd brought it with him even after it had been suggested he'd not. The comfort of holding it in his arms and falling to sleep with it beside him was something he'd loathed to give up. While even though the dreams he'd on occasion have because of it, were ones he believed he needed to suffer through.

The things he'd seen in those dreams and the acts that he believed had been committed against his brother, sister, and their mother, ones that he'd let stoke the fire that burned deep in his heart. A fire that he'd add kindling to over the next few years and when the time was right, he'd then see unleashed on those responsible for the murder of his family. For his brother, sister, and their mother, Jon now sought but one thing and one thing alone.

'Vengeance and justice are not enough for even one of you. Fire and Blood, not a sentence that those who took you from the world deserve to know. Death alone is too good for them and so I swear it on all I am and all I will ever be, death is the last thing they know from me. For Aegon, Rhaenys, and Elia, I swear to bring them a reckoning they'll never forget.'

Their journey took them past Sunspear, Jon standing on the deck of the Falling Star and looking at the home of the Martells as they passed it by. Soon they sailed close enough to the Stepstones that Jon found himself contemplating how Daemon Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon had managed to take the islands for their own. Images of the Blood Wyrm filling his mind and thoughts of Dark Sister fuelling his dreams as he held Egg closely that night. He saw nothing of note in the Sea of Dorne other than a great mist and large waves, even less as they sailed into Shipbreaker Bay. Jon, in the end, was more than happy when the Falling Star docked without incident near Griffin's Roost.

Ser Symon told him that Lord Jon Connington served his grandmother in some fashion and Jon almost wished to visit the keep, instead deciding to keep to their travels and their schedule. Thankfully once they began to ride they found the weather good and the going easy. The journey to Storm's End took them no more than four days to make and so, a little over two weeks after leaving Starfall, Jon now found himself staring up at the large curtain walls of Storm's End. The banners of the King and Queen waving a little higher than those of Stannis Baratheon and the line of tents and merchants arranged outside the keep showed just how large a tourney this was set to be.

Entering through the large double gates, Jon found himself wondering just how difficult it would be to take this keep. He knew from his lessons with Maester Luwin, that Mace Tyrell and the Lords of the Reach had attempted to do so during the rebellion and had not even laid a mark on the stone. Instead, they'd feasted and whiled away the hours while many miles away a true battle was being fought. It was a bone of contention that he intended to use against House Tyrell when the moment suited him to do so. Yet it would not be one used against the representative of House Tyrell that now moved his way.

"By the gods, it is you," Loras shouted happily.

"Aye, 'tis good to see a friendly face, are you competing or just here for the feasting," Jon said with a smirk as he climbed down off his horse.

"I seek my vengeance, Lord Wolf."

"Then no doubt you shall have it, Ser Flower," Jon said before he and Loras embraced as true friends.

"Meera not with you, Jon?"

"She remained at Starfall, are you here alone by chance?" he asked to a shake of Loras' head and a point in the direction of where House Tyrell's banners flew proudly. Jon decided not to make mention of the fact that it took a tourney for them to be able to fly so freely inside this most imposing of keeps. "I should present myself to the King and Queen, Lord Stannis and Lady Catelyn too."

"You'll sit with us tonight?" Loras asked and Jon nodded. Whistling to Ghost to join him as he, Syrio, Ser Symon, and his guards entered the large drum tower and readied to present themselves to Robert Baratheon and his wife, Cersei Lannister. Jon was unsure which of them he'd least like to meet and again prayed that he kept his Lord Face on him for he'd need it here far more than ever.

Storm's End 296 AC.

Prince Joffrey Baratheon.

Jon Stark's smile. He hated that smile. How dare the baseborn savage from the North look at him and smile as if he was better than the Heir to the Iron Throne?

Ever since they'd met in the Tourney of Lannisport, Joffrey could not stand this damned smile. It was one he had always been used to giving to people beneath him. Until then, it had never been aimed at him. How could it? He was a Prince of the Realm, the Heir to the King of the Seven Kingdoms—the Grandson of the Lion of Casterly Rock.

Yet every time Jon Stark looked his way, that condescending smile was plastered on his face.

Jon Stark had been the bane of his existence. Joffrey had been forced to look on as for years his father pined for another boy. A boy that wasn't him. All because that damnable bastard had dared do what others couldn't and hadn't been punished for it. At least that was what his mother had told him.

'When I'm King, I'll make sure nobody shows any kind of disrespect toward me without suffering the consequences.'

Joffrey couldn't fathom how his father, the King, would accept that a mere boy refused his request. Be it a Lord or one of the pitiful smallfolk, all bowed before the Stag and the Lions surrounding him. Yet for years, Jon Stark and his refusal to become his squire was all that King Robert could talk about.

"He's the King. Why doesn't he force him to do his bidding?"

"Because Jon Stark can do no wrong in your Father's eye." his mother had answered bitterly.

Joffrey hadn't even been offered the same courtesy, which was what made him hate Jon Stark even more. He didn't have a choice when it came to learning how to become a knight. There would be so many things he would love to do rather than train all day. The only saving grace in it was that he was able to make others suffer as much as he did.

His uncle had been the one training him at first, and Joffrey had proudly boasted that he would learn under the famed Kingslayer until Jaime refused to do so anymore. Joffrey had then felt greatly vexed that his uncle would not wish to teach him more.

"I taught you all that I could, my Prince."

"You did not show me how to kill my enemies. All you did was to show me how to defend myself." Joffrey protested.

"Killing someone is not something you should look forward to, Nephew."

"Yet you did so multiple times. You even killed your King." he retorted.

"Because I had to, not because I wanted to."

"What's the difference? He's dead anyway and nobody misses the Mad King. I need to know how to defeat my enemies."

"It's in your blood, my Prince. You do not need anyone to teach you how to kill. You act by instinct, and mine tells me you will be doing just fine." his uncle said, and Joffrey could not tell if it was praise or something else.

So he had sought out help and advice from the one person always ready to give him both. His mother.

"You're a great fighter already, my love." His mother added. "We'll make sure you become an even greater one."

The only warrior that Joffrey had thought to be even better than his uncle would not give him the time of his day, however. His father wanted him to become a knight but had no patience or time to train him, too occupied by his duties of being the king. While Joffrey felt slighted by his father's lack of interest, he could understand how such a task could feel beneath him.

'When I'm King, I will have no time to spare either.'

So he'd been elated when his grandfather had sent him a new mentor, the next best thing after the King and the Kingslayer in Joffrey's eyes. Ser Gregor Clegane was a legendary monster, a notorious killer and Joffrey was certain to learn a lot by training with the knight. His entourage both envied and feared him for squiring for the Mountain that Rides, and he enjoyed the power imbalance it gave him with his group of followers. Not that there wasn't already one given who Joffrey was and who they were.

Joffrey loved nothing more than humiliating the other squires, none so much as his cousin Steffon. The self-righteous fool of a boy was training under the Blackfish and they both looked down upon his mentor when the Mountain had first arrived, which annoyed Joffrey greatly. The prince had then made his mission to teach his cousin his rightful place and he reveled in each tear he could get out of him.

He tolerated the others, as Martyn, Tyrek, and Walder knew their place from the start and enjoyed the nicer parts of being related to the Prince of the Realm. They were Lannisters after all, even Walder had Lion blood in him and they, like Joffrey, knew how powerful the name they represented was. His Grandfather and Mother always made sure to make everyone remember it, so much so that none would dare look Joffrey in the eye for fear of reprisals.

None other than Jon fucking Stark.

The look the bastard gave him as he introduced himself in front of his Father grated on Joffrey's last nerve. Yet he'd not lie and say that he had been unpleasantly surprised to hear the King, his father, talk favorably about him. Joffrey remembered well how wroth his father had been when news of the Tourney of Highgarden had reached the Red Keep.

"I heard you had quite a show at Highgarden, lad." his father said warmly to Jon Stark. Joffrey somehow kept the glower from his face and his expression instead remained neutral.

"I wanted to make an impression in my first tourney, Your Grace."

"That you did. You crowned the Rose of Highgarden and then announced your betrothal. A story worthy of the tales of old." Joffrey's mother sneered while his father growled.

"I wish you were able to see it, Your Grace." Jon Stark bowed slightly to Joffrey's mother.

"Did they force you with the betrothal? You have but one word to say and I will break it for you." Robert suggested, making Joffrey frown.

"I thank you for your concern, Your Grace, but there is naught to worry about. I was the one to ask for Lady Margaery's hand."

"You did? Why?" Robert asked, confusion etched on his face.

"Lady Margaery comes from a Great House and we have strong bonds with her family… I am friends with her brother and… I…I wanted to, your grace." Jon Stark answered, his sheepish smile now angering Joffrey even more.

His father said nothing more, but he could see how upset he was by the bastard's response. He remembered then that Robert had wished to betroth his sister to Jon Stark, and part of him felt offended. Myrcella to Joffrey's mind was plain and uninteresting, yet she was still a Princess and way far better than someone like Jon Stark could ever wish for.

"Do you plan on competing in the jousts, Lord Jon?" he found himself asking.

"I do my Prince." the bastard answered.

"Then I shall too." Joffrey declared, prompting his parents to look at him in astonishment.

"You cannot, Joffrey. You are the guest of honor of the tourney." Cersei retorted.

"What good does it do to have a tourney in your name when you cannot participate?" Joffrey said nonchalantly.

"We've already discussed it. It is too dangerous." she insisted.

"Uncle Renly is enlisting, as is Martyn. I've been training as long if not longer than either of them has. Why wouldn't I try my luck?"

"A bold decision, my son. One that I wholeheartedly support!" Robert cheered loudly, making Joffrey's heart fill and his smile one that beamed with satisfaction.

"Then it's settled. I hope our lances cross paths in the yard, Lord Jon."

"As I do, my Prince." Jon Stark replied, his annoying smirk back on his face.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Joffrey," Robert said once they were left alone. "Now that you've declared you'll enlist in the joust, you represent our family. You represent me."

"I know, Father. I will not let you down."

"I'll make sure you won't." Robert simply said before leaving the hall. His mother then moved to him with a worried expression on her face. Not only worries, Joffrey wagered.

"Now is not the time to argue about this in front of our guests, Mother." Joffrey spat as Cersei was about to scold him.

He had acted on impulse. His desire to see Jon Stark on the ground, yielding to him and without that annoying smile had gotten the best of him. The Bastard Wolf seemed to be someone who was only doing as he pleased, not minding about his station and his place in Court.

Joffrey had heard many rumors about the North and Jon Stark. The Red Keep was full of gossip and there was much said of the future Warden who had dared defy the power of the Lions. As much if not more spoken on the victory that his uncle and his bannermen had robbed Joffrey's grandfather of. Of the way he constantly dismissed the South and refused the invitations sent his way to come to King's Landing. As if Joffrey's family needed to beg for him to grace them with his presence.

It was he who should be the one begging Joffrey. Jon Stark should be the one bowing to him, not the slight bow he did when facing his father. The prince would make sure to show him how his knees can buckle properly when in front of his betters.

"I heard Loras Tyrell is going to enlist in the jousts," Walder said later that day when they got together in the sparring yard.

"So what?" Joffrey shrugged, focusing on hitting his dueling partner.

"He made a good impression on Mother. He even got knighted at the tourney." his cousin answered, wincing somewhat from the blow that Joffrey had caught him with.

"Surely because his family was hosting. There's no glory in that. He did not even manage to win the joust against a Northern savage." Joffrey scoffed.

"Jon Stark impressed Mother too." Walder retorted.

"Your mother is easily impressed, so it seems." Joffrey dismissed, putting an end to the conversation by forcing Walder to yield painfully by hitting his wrist with his training sword.

"You didn't need to hit this hard!" Walder whined. "It's going to bruise for days!"

"See what your big mouth brings you." Martyn chuckled. "I told you not to bring those two fools up."

"I figured it wouldn't do any harm to know who Joff would tilt against, since he's about to compete in the joust."

"And I told you he would not care. They're not a threat to him. Not with how he's been trained." Martyn argued, making the prince smirk.

"Speaking of your training, how did the Mountain take the fact that he's been forbidden to joust because of you?" Lancel asked and Joffrey couldn't help but cringe as he remembered the scene.

"As well as you can imagine, but he'll let his anger loose during the melee," he answered, faking nonchalance, while he knew he would be in a lot of hard lessons when they got back. The Mountain answered not to him, nor the king. There was but one man in Westeros that Gregor Clegane feared. Joffrey's grandfather, The Lion of Casterly Rock.

Joffrey might be a Prince of the Realm and the Mountain may treat him differently from the rest of their little group, but he still endured a lot of punishment from the knight when the latter was displeased. Pain was something that Joffrey loved inflicting, not receiving. Knowing this, he did everything he could not to be on the receiving end of it, though the pain was part of the teachings he sometimes had to endure. It made him stronger and less inclined to feel it. Which in turn made him quicker and more lithe on his feet.

Though he spoke of it to no one, Joffrey found the pain of others to be somewhat exciting. Any kind of pain, may that be physical or on the mind or spirit. And the pain he would inflict on Jon Stark would surely procure him a lot of pleasure.

Looking around, he rolled his eyes as his stare crossed his cousin's. Cassana Baratheon was another thorn in his side, one he would like to tear apart for good. The sound of her voice was enough to get on his nerves and he would have refused to travel to Storm's End if the tourney hadn't been in his honor. Simply for the idea of having to spend more time than he would usually in her company.

He didn't need her nor her mother to know how wonderful, intelligent, and awe-inspiring he was. Joffrey had servants, his cousins, and other ladies to do so for him. His mother didn't trust his aunt or that side of their family and she was a good judge of character, so neither did he. Moreover, his so-called kin harbored in their midst his father's bastard without any shame. Even though it seemed his Uncle Stannis had done something clever this time at least in sending the boy and his mother away from Storm's End for the duration of the tourney.

So at least he didn't have to suffer the humiliation of spending time with his bastard brother. He wished the same could have been done with Cassana too.

"She keeps talking about songs and annoying tales as if they were the most important thing ever." he had said to his mother the last time they met, scoffing as he remembered their conversations. "I heard her speak to Myrcella and say that she wished she could visit her more. As if it is not bad enough that we have to suffer Steffon's presence, with her–"

"Do not worry about Cassana Baratheon." his Mother had said to him. "Whatever her mother's wish for her, Your Father will not let her ambition prevail."

"Aunt Catelyn's ambitions?" Joffrey repeated, confused.

"This woman is not your Aunt. She is your uncle's wife, who wishes for too much while she brings nothing to the table." Cersei cut him snippily.

"How so?"

"Catelyn Tully became a Baratheon not because of her worth, but because your Father took pity on her. She was given to Stannis because her father had complained about the death of her foolish husband. Ruined and widowed, instead of keeping a low profile, she constantly tries to ingratiate herself in court. She even took your bastard brother into her home to stay in your father's good graces."

"Can't we just tell them to stay away? I'm the Prince, after all." he sighed.

"And she is your family. We have to keep our repute intact. Your father has damaged it enough already. Simply ignore Cassana and her mother and do not show them any interest."

So Joffrey did as his mother said, going to great lengths to avoid both his aunt Catelyn and her insipid daughter Cassana when they were in King's Landing. Here, however, Joffrey felt cornered now he was in the Lesser Stags' territory.

"Well done, my Prince!" his annoying cousin's voice reached him before she did. "You disarmed your opponents with such ease, I'm most impressed."

"I bet you are." he scoffed. "Your brother, however, hasn't made more progress since the last time you saw him, cousin."

"Oh, he's still quite young. He has time to improve," she said, trying to hide her discomfort. "I hear you'll be competing in the joust?"

"I will, indeed."

"I look forward to seeing you win, my Prince."

"I shall do my best, cousin." Joffrey rolled his eyes.

"Have you thought of who you're willing to crown when you win, my Prince?" she asked, almost batting her lashes at him in a revolting manner.

"Right, I have to crown someone. I haven't thought of that. Probably my Mother or Sister."

"Oh. I understand." Cassan said sadly.

"You seem almost disappointed. Is it not right that I crown my family? Are they not deserving of another crown? They are true beauties, aren't they?" he asked coldly, loving the feel of Cassanna's panicking features.

"Of- of course they are. But I had thought… I… Since the tourney is to celebrate my nameday as well as your own, that you…"

"Oh, I remember now. Happy nameday, then."

"Thank you, my Prince." Cassana smiled.

Joffrey needed to get out of this conversation and do so quickly if he wished not to say things he should not. Luckily, he found the right distraction at that very moment.

"Oh, Lady Margaery!" he called the so-called Rose of Highgarden who was walking toward her brother. "Have you met my cousin Cassana already?"

"Not really, my Prince. A pleasure, Lady Baratheon."

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Tyrell." Cassana lied through her teeth.

"Did you come to see me spar?" he asked, his smirk appearing as he did so.

"I was on my way to speak to my brother, but I indeed saw your impressive display of strength and skill. Though I expected no less from a Prince squiring for the Mountain that Rides," she said, and Joffrey could see his cousin tense at the words.

"Does it scare you, my Lady?" Joffrey asked curiously.

"Not at all, my Prince. Ser Gregor Clegane is a renowned knight and I am certain you will earn your spurs soon."

"Mayhaps not as soon as your brother did, but I intend to do so because of my worth and not my family name."

"Are you insinuating that my brother's knighthood has been because of privileges?" Margaery was affronted and Joffrey relished being the cause of it.

"Oh, I would never!" he lied, smiling seductively. "I was merely hoping to prove my valor while facing experienced knights, my Lady."

"Margaery, my prince. You may call me Margaery."

"Mayhaps my path will cross your brother's, Margaery, and I hope you will cheer for me in that case."

"I… My heart will be conflicted, for true, but I wish you good fortune in case it happens, my Prince."

"What about your betrothed?" he insisted, smirking as he saw her lose her countenance. "Will you cheer for me if I beat him?"

"I shouldn't speak ill of my betrothed, my prince," she said, making him perk up at her hesitation.

"I won't tell, I swear, my Lady."

"Then, in that case, I wish you good fortune against him, my prince," she confessed to his utter delight.

"That is not very nice of you, Lady Margaery, to support someone other than the man you are promised to wed." Cassana butted in, and Joffrey found that he had all but forgotten about her presence until now.

"My brother Ser Loras is too titling in the lists, Lady Cassana. And given Prince Joffrey's status and who he is squiring for, I would be a fool not to think he would be able to go far in the jousting. Or to hope so, at the very least.``

"I thank you, Margaery, for your faith in me," he said to a curtsy from the Rose of Highgarden, who then took her leave quickly after this.

"My Prince, this girl. Margaery Tyrell. I do not like the way she talked to you. She is betrothed and acts so flippantly towards you." Cassana declared with urgency.

"Calm down, cousin. It was just a talk. Moreover, it was not like I was the one betrothed, and if it was the case, 'tis just but a conversation. Though I would not mind plucking a Rose's flower before someone else does." he chuckled, making his cousin gasp.

"That's… Unbecoming of someone of your station!" she protested.

"I am my Father's son. What can I do if women throw themselves at me? I should refuse them. Certainly not."

Looking into his cousin's tear-filled gaze, who seemed to struggle with something she misliked in what he had just said, Joffrey shook his head and was about to go on about his day when his eyes caught sight of the one person he despised the most. Jon Stark stood with Loras Tyrell, seemingly having caught a glimpse of their conversation, and the prince was surprised to see something on his face that he had never seen before.

A scowl.

"Interesting," he said, smiling as he nodded at them, both of whom then bowed their heads stiffly towards him, the scowl on Jon Stark's face deepening.

Not only did he manage to upset Cassana, but the future Lord of Winterfell too, just by addressing Margaery Tyrell. Joffrey could feel the warmth of excitement bloom in his belly as if he had just found a vein of gold ready to be exploited. He then remembered the bastard of the North's explanation about his betrothal.

He wanted to be with her. He fancies her. He may even already be in love with the Golden Rose.

Margaery Tyrell seemed to be Jon Stark's weakness, and Joffrey would be damned if he did not exploit that newfound information. For the pain in the Lordling's eye was not enough to satisfy the Prince's hunger at that moment. He needed more, and more he would make sure to receive.

"Mayhaps this tourney will not be a waste of time, after all…" he thought happily.

Storm's End 296 AC.

Margaery Tyrell.

She had worried that she'd not be allowed to attend the tourney. Her grandmother not being there when the ravens arrived and her mother's illness both combined to make her fear she'd be denied. Had it not been for Willas, then she very well may have been. Margaery was more than grateful to her older brother and then to her two younger ones when both Garlan and Loras said they'd attend alongside her. Still, it surprised her when both her father and mother then joined them when they departed. Yet it was her brothers that she looked to more often than not.

Garlan she was most especially grateful to, as unlike Loras, her older brother still spoke to her as he always had. The rift between Margaery and her youngest brother had shown no sign of being resolved and each time he looked her way, Margaery felt Loras' judgment in his stare. He was not the only one who looked at her with a less friendly look these past few moons. Her grandmother, mother and most especially her father, were not best pleased with what she'd told them. None of them listened to her or allowed her to express her concerns when she did so.

Margaery understood it not if she was being truthful. She'd expected her grandmother would be thrilled that she'd taken her lessons so well. Yet, in their talks regarding her betrothal to Jon Stark, Margaery had found an unwilling ear on her grandmother's part. She'd simply been told time and time again that there was no match more wished for or welcomed than the one agreed with House Stark. Her father had been even firmer with her than that, much to her surprise. Rare indeed it was, when it was he who laid down the law and yet a few days after Jon Stark's departure, Margaery had been called to his solar.

"This foolishness stops at once, Margaery, I'll not have it."

"Father?"

"We seek no betrothal other than the one we've agreed to, Margaery, will accept no other, do you understand."

"Father I…"

"I said," Do you understand, Margaery?"

"I understand," she whispered. Though she very much did not.

The best she could make of it was that they believed that there was simply no chance that a betrothal between her and Prince Joffrey would be forthcoming. Which only made her ever more determined to see that one was. So in a way, she'd been glad that her grandmother had traveled to the Arbor and she knew, or suspected at least, why that was so. Her cousin's feelings had been hurt by Margaery's actions and it would take her grandmother's intervention to soothe and right that hurt. Margaery's own attempts had thus far failed so spectacularly.

'When she and Jon Stark are betrothed, Desmera will forgive me then.' or so she tried to tell herself. Trying her best not to grow angered at the thoughts of her cousin and Jon Stark being wed and to her dismay, finding that she could not.

Other than how her family was treating her, it was that more than anything that caused her tears to flow when she was alone in her bed. Margaery was unable to stop herself from going to the box where she still kept the blue winter rose and worse than that, from then placing that rose close to her heart. Eyes closed, the world around her ceasing to exist, she'd get lost in a dream that she both longed to come true and wished away at the same time.

A dream of a wedding night where she lay in her bed and looked at her husband as he undressed. One where she could almost feel the touch of fingers as he helped her remove her dress. Feel the heat in his stare as he gazed upon her with longing and then the sweetness of his lips as they kissed for true. Margaery would lie in her bed and bring her fingers to her lips as if she were trying to wring out the same feelings that overwhelmed her in her dreams.

"It cannot be," she said, shaking such thoughts from her head and rising from her bed.

Soon enough her cousins and her maids had arrived and Margaery readied herself for the day ahead. They'd arrived in Storm's End just before the Royal Party had and she'd found herself almost an unwelcome guest, or at least at first she had. The Lady of the House and her daughter were polite if not friendly and it took Margaery some time to realize why that may be. By the time she'd realized that they saw her as a rival for the prince's affections, however, it was clear they now no longer did. Lady Catelyn's words at the feast that night showed that to be so.

"I wish to congratulate you on your betrothal, Lady Margaery."

"I…I thank you, my lady."

"Though I wonder if the North is a suitable place for a flower such as you truly are."

"I….I've found the North to be wondrous, my lady." Margaery said, unsure why she defended a place she liked not.

"Then you and your betrothed are truly well matched, Lady Margaery."

Since then, other than when the Royal Family arrived, Margaery was certain that Lady Catelyn aimed little smirks and looks her way. Not that she'd managed to catch any, but she believed there were some at least. When the King, Queen, and their children arrived, however, it was the same looks and glares that Margaery had faced upon her own arrival that she was then treated to.

The King was a large man, fat and muscled at the same time while his wife, the queen, was a true beauty other than for the almost perpetual sneer on her face. Ser Jaime was every inch Queen Cersei's twin and seemed to serve as her shadow almost, as did the Blackfish with the king. Princess Myrcella was a sweet enough child and Tommen a chubby little boy, Prince Joffrey however was almost a mirror image of his uncle. His long blond hair and emerald green eyes had come from his mother no doubt.

Just like her betrothed, the prince seemed to have spent much time in the yard and rarely seemed to smile. Though when he greeted his cousin, Lady Cassana, and then later when he greeted her, he at least wore one on his face. Not that there was much warmth in it, much to Margaery's chagrin. As for those who surrounded the prince, Margaery did not need to look at how Garlan and Loras glared at the largest of them to know who he was.

"The Mountain that Rides," she whispered fearfully.

Lord Stannis and Lady Catelyn held a truer feast for the King and Queen than they had for any of the other arrivals. Margaery found herself looking at Prince Joffrey more than once and while he looked her way, he did so disinterestedly, or so she believed at first. Still, after he had danced with his cousin, it was to her table that he moved to next and when he asked her to dance, she did so happily.

Going to bed that night, she felt she'd done little to further her plans. Yet, there was still much time to do so and when she woke the next morning, after another dream of a Northern Wedding, Margaery found herself much looking forward to the day. Little did she know just what and who the day would bring her way and when she heard that Jon Stark had arrived, Margaery found herself to be torn almost in three.

One part of her longed to speak to him, to see him and hear him say her name in that Northern lilt of his, the other wished he was far from here and that his presence didn't ruin her plans. The largest part of all wanted nothing more than for him to seek her out and ask for her favor not as a mystery knight but as himself. As Jon Stark, her betrothed, the man she dreamt about even though she wished not to.

"Why couldn't he have stayed at Starfall," she muttered, knowing not why she truly wanted that to be so.

Despite not wishing to go in search of her betrothed, Margaery found her feet had listened to her not. Soon enough she was close enough to see Jon being welcomed to Storm's End by Loras and how they embraced like true friends was something that filled her heart with joy. All too soon, he was gone from her sight and Margaery quickly hurried into the keep itself. She believed that knowing him how she did, Jon would seek to present himself to the King, Queen, and the Lord and Lady of Storm's End, and in this, she was proved right.

To her surprise, the king welcomed Jon much less happily than she expected. The queen did so with more cheer than her husband did, which she understood not. Given who Jon's father was, and that he'd asked him to be his squire, or so Loras had said, Margaery had thought there were good relations between the king and her betrothed. For some reason, it seemed that if there had been, there now very much was not and while it was not an angry welcome, it was certainly a frosty one on the king's part.

Compared to the one Jon received from Lady Catelyn, however, it may as well have been with open arms that the king welcomed Jon to the keep. Margaery soon became wroth with the lady and affronted on Jon's behalf, while Jon himself seemed to care not and kept his composure while little barbs were aimed his way. Then, in the blink of an eye, Jon and those with him had left the Round Hall and Margaery turned to do likewise. The sound of the prince's voice stopped her from doing so and instead, she found herself face-to-face with Joffrey Baratheon once more.

"My prince." she curtsied.

"My Lady." Joffrey smiled, a warmer smile she was happy to see.

"I was just…"

"Mayhap you'd join me, my lady, I was about to take a tour of this keep, however, I find myself in need of companionship."

"I would be honored, my prince." Margaery smiled and Joffrey offered her his arm.

She saw not the glares aimed her way by Lady Catelyn, nor the almost heartbroken look on Cassana Baratheon's face. Had she but looked in the direction of her brothers, she'd have seen Loras shake his head and Garlan look at her with annoyance. Walking from the keep, arm in arm with the prince, Margaery thought only about her plans and forced away the voice in her head that told her where it was she should be walking to. As she did at the thought that had Prince Joffrey not asked her to accompany him, then it may well have been to Jon's rooms that she'd have made her way.

Turning a corner once they were outside the keep, Margaery soon found herself being led to the Tourney Grounds. After asking the prince if he was truly confident in his skills and being told he was, she almost willed him to ask for her favor and thought not of the fact that she could not truly give it to him. Nor that she had no wish to do so, instead it was with thoughts of growing strong and those thoughts alone that Margaery filled her head. So much so that she took no notice of where she was being led to nor of the sparrow that flew close by as she was led there.

Storm's End 296 AC.

Lady Catelyn Stark.

Catelyn had thanked the Gods when the Tyrells arrived without the Queen of Thorns in their midst. It had been bad enough that Stannis had forced her hand into inviting them, knowing their ties with the Bastard of Winterfell. So she was relieved not to have to put on a welcoming face while having to talk to that insufferable woman.

She had done her duty and had been a good hostess. One who had welcomed them warmly, despite her issues with House Tyrell. The same, however, could not be said about her Goodbrother's welcoming of them to Storm's End. Catelyn wouldn't lie and say she was not pleased to see that Robert was still unhappy with them, especially with the way the girl, Margaery, was acting toward Joffrey. Already she had seen the sly smiles thrown at him and had scoffed when the Prince barely looked at her.

'She's perfect for the Bastard. she thought while comforting her daughter, who didn't seem to get along with her cousin.'

"He is not avoiding you, Sweetling," she said with determination to a crying Cassana. "He is a Prince. He must be present for everyone and accommodate our guests too since the tourney is in both your names."

"So I should do the same?" Cassana had asked through her sobs.

"You should. Show the Lords and Ladies how wonderful of a host you are, Sweetling. Always keep your smile and your poise, as I've taught you. Let them see how good of a Queen you'll one day become."

"I shall do my best, Mother," Cassana said with much determination.

Catelyn had looked on with pride as her daughter greeted their guests and Cassana had indeed shone throughout the days before the tourney. In turn, Catelyn received only compliments from everyone about her precious little girl, including the King himself.

"You did well with the little one, Cat. She reminds me of our Mother." this was the only compliment he had ever uttered to her and it was one she was proud to share with Stannis.

"Mayhaps this will prompt him to bring her closer to Myrcella?" she said hopefully in the comfort of their rooms, while her husband looked at her nursing their second son, Lyonel.

"I would not count on that, dear."

"Why not?"

"Myrcella's education is solely held in Cersei's hands, and she too is the one choosing her daughter's ladies in waiting."

"But she's her cousin and –"

"Oh, Catelyn." he sighed. "All these years at Court and you're still so deluded about the importance family holds to these people. In some ways it's endearing."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Not at all, wife. I wish you'd let go of your frivolous dreams, however. It does rub on Cassana the wrong way."

"What is wrong with wishing my daughter would be treated as befitting as her station?"

"You want her to be Queen. Not just to be treated well."

"She's the best prospect the King –"

"Robert wants Joff wed to Beth Stark. Or so I heard." Stannis cuts her off, making her jump in indignation.

"He will tie his son and heir to a savage from the North?"

"Now that Jon Stark is betrothed to the Tyrell girl, that's the only way Robert sees to tie our families."

"Has he no spine? They clearly don't want the alliance! They keep spitting in his face and he just asks for more punishment!" she exclaimed, outraged.

"This is not only because he wishes it, Catelyn. This is the right political move to do. The Crown needs the Starks as closer allies."

"They bring nothing to the table! Nothing we couldn't bring ourselves."

"I beg to differ." Stannis scoffed. "We are only beginning to build our navy and our armed men, whereas the North has a full garrison if not more. Their coffers are bursting from their trade. They may only now be starting to contribute taxes to the Crown and yet are already sending more than we do. Truly, if it wasn't for your dislike of anything Northern, I would have already sent a request of betrothal for Cassana to Brandon Stark."

Those words made her tense so much that Lyonel let his discomfort at being held tight known, distracting her only briefly. She and her husband had argued countless times about Cassana's future, Stannis clearly against the notion of their daughter being Joffrey's bride. Catelyn had hoped that with the bastard no longer in the picture, the choice would become more evident to her husband. Yet he had begun talking about Loras Tyrell instead, which only infuriated the Lady of Storm's End knowing the boy's status.

'A third son for the Jewel of Storm's End? This will not do. My daughter deserves way better than that.'

That Stannis couldn't see how precious their daughter was, unnerved Catelyn greatly. She was a Princess of the Realm, the King's only niece, bringing with her the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Stormlands. Cassana may not be as wealthy as Beth Stark was, but she was at least more prestigious.

'This should count for someone, right?'

Despite her feelings on the matter, Catelyn paid some attention to the young lord her husband now wanted to marry their daughter to. Loras Tyrell was comely and charming, yet there was something about him that she disliked greatly. He and his sister were almost too picture-perfect to be truthful. They were even able to keep their smiles still in place while their father kept making a fool of himself by boasting about the previous tourney they hosted. Something she had wished Cassana to learn how to do, as her daughter still showed her emotions too much.

"You should have seen it, Your Grace. Even though I'm sad to see my son lose, there's no denying that your friend's son was the better jouster that day. So surely was he motivated by the favor he held that day. We were most fortunate to be blessed with such a spectacle!"

"Most fortunate indeed," Robert grumbled. "I hear congratulations are in order, then you have mine, for now."

"I thank you, Your Grace." The Oaf exclaimed brightly, clearly not reading the tension in the room.

'The Tyrells may play the game well, but they're still much disliked by the King and Queen.' Cat felt gleeful and greatly relieved at the thought.

"I hope to see your future Goodson compete this time. He should be arriving before the start of the tourney." Robert said, making Catelyn frown in confusion.

"Your Grace?" Mace said, looking the same.

"He replied favorably to my invite, for once, though it vexed me not to know he was still in the South."

"Oh, yes. He went to visit his mother after the end of the tourney, Your Grace. He said he had been parted from her for far too many years."

"I wonder why he didn't come to King's Landing before doing so. It would have been a great occasion, wouldn't it, husband?" Cersei intervened, her smirk showing how truly she thought about the whole ordeal.

"Mayhaps you can ask him when he arrives, Your Grace." Mace Tyrell answered.

"You don't look too well, Goodsister?" Cersei addressed her.

"I'm a little lost, Your Grace. Who's arriving?" she asked.

"Jon Stark. My husband wanted to be sure he would come to this tourney and was delighted to receive a favorable answer." Cersei replied to Catelyn's horror.

"I… Wasn't aware of his arrival." She tried composing herself.

"Didn't you invite him? Was I mistaken?" Cersei insisted, prompting the lady to shake her head.

"We received no answer from Winterfell." She lied.

"Mayhaps because he was with his mother at that moment? Never mind. You'll finally get to meet your former husband's son since he'll be blessing us with his presence." Cersei's smile felt like another jab to Catelyn's heart and so she soon excused herself, pretexting the need to see to her babe to allow her to exit the room and let her anger explode.

'How dare he? How dare the bastard come here?'

"Did you know?" she asked Stannis when he joined her that night.

"Know? Know what? What are you on about?"

"Jon Stark. Jon Stark is coming here unannounced. Or so I thought because the King visibly knew about it. Were you aware of that too?"

"I heard the news the same moment you did. Is that why you were so troubled?"

"Troubled? I am more than troubled, Stannis! The gall of that boy to show up like this!"

"'Tis a tourney, Cat. If he showed up in Highgarden, why wouldn't he –"

"Because he wasn't invited!" she yelled, losing all countenance and startling her husband.

"You… You said you would –"

"I lied! There!"

"Catelyn –"

"I did not want him here, so I refused to send the invite. I made sure not to invite anyone from the North so as not to give the bastard even the merest idea of coming, but your fool of a brother thought it a good idea to send a summon in our stead!" Catelyn almost shrieked.

"How was he supposed to know you would not invite the Warden of the North?"

"I don't know, mayhaps he should have used his common sense and not invited the bastard of the lady's former husband to her own house!"

"That's enough, Catelyn!" Stannis thundered, halting her pacing with a forceful hold on her arm. "I can blame my brother for a lot of things but not for your lack of foresight."

"But –"

"You will be a good hostess and welcome Jon Stark in my home as due to his station as Future Warden of the North. You will smile gracefully and show that you are over your pettiness even though you are clearly not, for that is what the Lady of Storm's End is to do. We will talk about your lies and transgression once the tourney is done. Leave my sight, now."

Catelyn complied shamefully, Stannis' tone leaving no room for any argument that night.

It was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to be found out. Apart from some Northern Lords, few of them ever attended tourneys from the South, so her plan was supposed to be sound. Now she blamed Robert and most of all the bastard for foiling it and making Stannis angry.

Jon Stark's existence and influence were the only point of contention in her marriage aside from Cassana's future, and probably the most important. Even to this day, Catelyn couldn't get past what Eddard Stark did to her and the mention of the boy only reminded her of the son she'd lost. Her little Robb should have been there, competing in the joust and earning his spurs, but the Gods were cruel and Cately was once again faced with the unfairness of the situation.

She had to bite the inside of her cheeks when she saw his face for the first time, as they stood before the Round Hall to greet him properly. He looked like his father, like a Stark more than her sweet redhead babe would have looked, and his smile reminded her of Brandon's.

"I welcome you to Storm's End, Lord Stark." Stannis greeted him formally.

"I thank you, Lord Baratheon, for welcoming me. It's a pleasure to have been invited for such an important celebration." the boy answered with a look toward her, making both the man and wife tense.

'Does he know? How could he know?'

"Lord Jon," she said curtly, not extending her hand as it was customary, and yet he bowed his head to her and then kissed her daughter's offered hand and it took everything of Catelyn not to yell at him for doing so.

"Lady Cassana, I had a nameday gift made for you."

"A gift?" Cassana gasped excitedly.

"Aye, I hope it will be to your liking. I'll have it delivered to you as soon as I settle."

"May I look at it before giving it to my daughter?" Catelyn intervened quickly.

"Of course, my Lady. I'll have someone send it to you then."

"Thank you in advance, Lord Jon. This is very thoughtful of you." Cassana said happily.

"'Tis not every day you reach ten namedays, Lady Cassana. You might as well get something to remember it."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," Stannis said, visibly pleased by the bastard's words.

"Please, call me Jon. Lord Stark is my uncle." the boy chuckled, reminding Cat even more of her former betrothed.

"Very well, Jon. The King, Queen, and Prince Joffrey await you in the Round Hall."

Catelyn then watched as the boy's whole demeanor changed, as if he was steeling himself for what awaited him at the end of the Hall.

To her horror, the gift turned out to be a most beautiful one. A well-crafted jewelry box that resembled Storm's End perfectly, though Cat wondered how Jon Stark could know so much about their home while never having set foot there before. The sapphire necklace inside was even more beautiful.

Catelyn wanted to throw it away, but her daughter's joy at seeing the gift prevented her from doing so.

"It's so beautiful, Mother!" Cassana marveled as she opened the box. "This is the best gift I received for my nameday!"

"Your grandfather and uncle brought you a pretty dollhouse."

"And I love it, but this… This is even prettier!"

"Wait until you see what your uncle and aunt have in store for you before saying such a thing out loud."

"Do you think they have something prepared?" Cassana wondered expectantly. "They've been here for days and neither they nor Joffrey have told me anything about a gift."

"Mayhaps they're waiting until the end of the tourney to do so?"

"Oh, you're right! With Joffrey taking part in the jousts, he may crown me Queen of Love and Beauty… This would be even better than a jewelry box!" Cassana said, sighing dreamily as she looked at herself in the looking glass, caressing the necklace that brought out the beauty of her eyes. "I wish Joffrey would be the one to gift me this."

"You'll get more from him, my sweet girl," Catelyn reassured, hoping she wouldn't be mistaken about her good family.

At the feast on the night of his arrival, Catelyn had placed Jon Stark as far away from her as she could politely do. She had watched with glee as he at first seemed put out by the arrangement before looking at the High Table and smiling brightly. Looking to where his eyes were directed, Catelyn tensed. Cassana had earlier insisted on putting the necklace for the night's feast, leaving her mother with no choice other than to relent.

"It seems your daughter is quite pleased to see your former husband's son," Cersei noted to her dismay.

"She is being polite, Your Grace. The – Lord Jon has gifted Cassana the necklace she is wearing," she replied through her teeth.

"Ha! As expected from Ned's lad!" Robert needled the wound that had festered in Catelyn's mind.

"Such a lavish gift for a girl that is not his betrothed. Makes you wonder what manners they're teaching in the North. Joffrey would never act this way." Cersei scoffed.

"What gift did we bring for my niece, by the way?" Robert asked.

"Gift? Isn't our presence in the celebrations enough?" Cersei replied, making her goodsister tense.

"No, no. This will not do. What do ten namedays girls like nowadays?" Robert asked and his wife shrugged. "You're a woman. Figure this out before the end of the tourney."

By the time dinner was over and minstrels began to change the tone of the music, indicating the opening of the ball, Cersei's scowl was as visible as Catelyn's while Robert started getting well into his cups. The lady of Storm's end could see how annoyed the queen was at hearing the boy's praise and it brought her some solace during the seemingly long-lasting night.

'This is going awfully wrong.' Catelyn thought, frowning as she watched the bastard looking toward the place their prisoner had been seated. The Ironborn's presence was something else she was not best pleased about.

Theon Greyjoy had been made to dine with the other guests, as Stannis wanted to show he was not mistreated, with the only condition that he would not stay once the meal had ended. Catelyn had previously caught the bastard talking to him and had then remembered that the Ironborn's sister was living as a hostage in Winterfell.

'It must have surprised him to see him mingle with the guests. I bet they don't treat her as well as we do Theon here. His family doesn't know decency, after all. she thought bitterly.'

Catelyn gritted her teeth as the bastard stood up, waiting with bated breath to see what he was up to. She heard some commotion next to her and her confusion grew as she saw Prince Joffrey walk from the High Table.

"What in the Seven Hells does he think he is doing?" Robert growled while Catelyn watched with horror as the prince almost ran to where the Tyrells were situated and stopped in front of Margaery's seat.

They were not the only ones confused by Joffrey's gesture, as the bastard stopped in his tracks and his friend, Margaery's brother, looked at him with distraught eyes whilst his betrothed stood up and, with a curtsy, took Joffrey's hand so he could lead her to the dancing area.

"I believe the jousts are already starting, Your Grace." Jaime Lannister chuckled behind him. "Knowing your son, he plans on destabilizing his most dangerous opponent before they cross paths."

"Would that he do this without associating himself with those traitors," Robert grumbled, though Catelyn barely paid attention to what was said afterward, as the boy she loathed had now begun advancing to their table.

'Mother, do not put me through the humiliation –' Catelyn beseeched the gods.

"Lady Cassana?" the bastard said, and only then did she notice her daughter's puffy eyes.

"My Lord Jon?" Cassana's voice was low and even despite the bastard being so close to her, and how that made her feel, Catelyn could hear how close her daughter was to sobbing.

"Would you grant me the honor of a dance, my Lady?"

"I… The honor would be mine, Lord Jon." Cassana quickly agreed, following him eagerly to her mother's shame.

This was too much for Catelyn. Seeing her daughter being snubbed by the Prince in favor of a betrothed lady was appalling, yet the sight of Cassana laughing wholeheartedly to whatever Jon Stark was telling her defied her wildest nightmare.

This tourney was supposed to bring Joffrey and Cassana closer, not for a bastard and the daughter of a disgraced family to ruin everything she had worked for.

She would need to set things on the right path, starting the next day.

Storm's End 295 AC.

Robert Baratheon.

At first, he had no intent to attend the tourney in his family home. The idea of Stannis hosting a tourney was not something that appealed to Robert. Even his welcoming of the pageantry, violence, and chance to bed some starry-eyed maiden had not made him any keener to sup with his brother. Jon's words however had registered and for a tourney to be hosted at Storm's End and not to be attended by the King, would raise some questions and irk some of his brother's Bannermen. Something that almost backfired on his father by choice when he first brought it up to him.

The simple truth was that while it would shame Stannis somewhat that he couldn't get his brother to attend the first true tourney Storm's End had hosted in more than twenty years, it would shame Robert just as much. Stannis' Bannermen, were his Bannermen too, they had been the men who'd fought and bled with him when he faced the accursed Dragon on the Trident. Should the tourney occur without his presence, then Robert would be snubbing not simply his brother, but those men too and he'd not countenance such a thing.

Still, it may not have been enough to get him to attend were that the only reason why he should do so. So Robert wouldn't lie and say he was not happy to find a few more benefits to go with the thoughts of raising the skirts of some willing young lady. The first of them had been a most welcome one, truth be told. His son had shown an interest in the yard that had at times brought Robert much joy. Joffrey may wield a sword rather than a Warhammer, but he wielded it skilfully and with purpose. Images of melees and fights to one day come would oft bring a smile to Robert's face and a tourney would give his son a chance to set out on that path. While the skills his son gained in the yard could one day be put to a truer test too and so that too made the tourney far more interesting than it may have been.

Stannis or mayhap his good lady wife, had seen fit to name the tourney a joint one too. A celebration not just of their daughter's Nameday, but of Joffrey's as well and so that added yet another reason why he must attend. Yet in truth, the main reason he eventually agreed to do so was due to events at a different tourney. A betrothal that had been made and which had raised his ire and one that Robert would bid the lad break when he spoke to him in person. For no son of Ned Stark should find themselves with a Rose for his bride. Not even one as pretty as Margaery Tyrell was claimed to be.

"He did what?"

"Lord Jon and Lady Margaery are betrothed, your grace. The young man entered the tourney at Highgarden as a mystery knight and named the lady as Queen of Love and Beauty."

"And then asked for her hand or was forced to accept it?" he asked, Littlefinger looking at him fearfully due to how loud his question was spoken.

"I believe asked for, your grace, I know not if that is so, however, mayhap Lord Varys…."

"Begone, and tell Jon I wish to speak to him."

"Your Grace." Littlefinger bowed his head.

Thoughts of speaking to the lad in question, of helping him change his mind and to make the right decision regarding his future had been what Robert had left King's Landing with. It had been why he'd sent word to Winterfell to personally invite Jon Stark to the tourney, and why he'd been disappointed to arrive and find the lad not yet there. Robert's time was spent instead looking over the young ladies who were present and even deciding which of them were beddable or not.

When Jon Stark did eventually arrive, Robert had been somewhat taken aback by how much the lad had grown and filled out. He'd seen too how his daughter, young as she was, had looked at the boy and it had almost brought a smile to his face. The presents that always arrived on Tommen and Joffrey's Namedays from the future Warden of the North were ones that Myrcella appreciated even more so than they did. So thoughtful and considerate were they that even her mother complained about them not.

Robert had asked his questions and had found he liked not the answers to them. He'd given the lad the opportunity and the chance to get out of the betrothal and had been denied by Jon Stark once more. This time liking it far less so than he had the first and second time the boy had denied him something he wished for. As a king, lord and simply as a man, Robert was not used to people telling him no and rarely, other than by the lad's father, had someone done so more than once. The memory of Ned was the only thing that allowed him to not lose his temper a little with the boy when they spoke.

"No, not the only thing." Robert chuckled.

Hearing his boy challenge Jon Stark and looking on as that challenge was accepted, brought up even more memories of his brother by choice. Quiet and composed Ned may have been, but once provoked he'd back down to no man, not even Robert himself and his son had taken much after his father in this regard. For Robert, watching his son act as much like him as he'd ever done up to now was a moment that filled him with pride.

It made the night's feast interesting and while he at first was wroth with Joffrey for asking the Rose to dance, the Kingslayers's words had made much sense. Even if Robert had then needed to hear the Blackfish add his thoughts to those words and confirm them in his imitable way.

"Boys are boys, your grace and a little competition is no harm is it not?"

"No, 'Tis not."

Looking at Jon Stark, Robert withheld his smile when he saw how put out the lad was that Joffrey had stolen his dance with his betrothed. He hid his frown too when it was to Cassanna that Jon Stark moved to and she that he danced with instead. Both the idea that it should be Myrcella even despite her younger age when compared to her cousin and that Robert would have probably accepted his niece and Jon Stark as a worthy match, offering him no pleasure.

"How dare he not ask our daughter to dance," Cersei whined.

"'Tis a tourney for my great-niece, your grace, it would be an insult to ask for any other hand while she was still seated."

"My daughter is a princess, Ser."

"Indeed, your grace."

Robert listened not to the budding argument between his Kingsguard and his wife. Like Cersei, he liked it not that Myrcella had not been asked to dance by Jon Stark and yet, after a dance with his betrothed, it was indeed Myrcella that Jon Stark moved to next. The beaming smile on her face and the blush on her cheeks when something was whispered in her ear were more than enough to calm Robert's ire at his brother by choice's son.

Before too long it was the servants and the wench he had his eye on that took all of Robert's attention. His children, other than Joffrey, had taken to their beds. Jon Stark had long since left the Great Hall and his brother was glaring at him and grinding his teeth as was Stannis' wont. Cersei too wore an annoyed look on her face and yet Robert cared not. He'd fought a war and won a crown, woe betides any man or woman who told him what he could or could not do. Propriety be damned and gainsayers be cursed for all he cared.

When he woke the next morning it was to find not one, but two women in his bed. Sisters, or damn close enough to make no never mind, or so Robert believed. Some coin, a promise to see them again that he knew he'd never hold to, and a hurried trip to the privy was the beginning of his morning and so it was late when he broke his fast. To his surprise, it was with his son and heir that he did so and Robert found he had much he wished to speak to Joffrey this morning. Yet for some reason, the conversation they had was as stilted as ever, and only his son saying that he had work to do in the sparring yard or it may not even have been one that started at all.

"Yet it's the joust that you're competing in, is it not?"

"It is, father. And yet not all battles that begin ahorse stay that way."

"No, they do not," Robert said, his pride again rising as he wondered how Joffrey had come to know of such.

"And other than your sparring, your plans for the day?"

"I know not, father."

"Spend some time with your cousin," Robert said, not knowing where the idea came from other than he wished to show the Blackfish some favor mayhap. "I know, I know, but it would please your father if you do so."

"Then I shall," Joffrey said as he rose to his feet.

His son was almost at the door when Robert called out to him, his words not ones he'd expected or even planned to say and yet they were ones spoken truly.

"I shall place my coin on you in the joust, son."

"I…I thank you, father."

Later, he watched as Joffrey sparred with the Mountain and his men. His son's ferocity was something that Robert much enjoyed seeing. As he did the conversation that Joffrey had with Cassana, and the smile his niece wore that was so reminiscent of her mother's. He lost sight of his son before the melee began, only to find someone else to focus his attention on. Jon Stark practicing with his fencing master and the knight his accursed family in Dorne had sent North to see to his protection. The young lad was all grace and speed and something about how he moved was familiar to him. Then a soft voice and a heaving bosom soon stopped Robert from pulling too much on the thread of what that was.

When the melee participants were called out, Robert was somewhat put out that the fencing master wasn't taking part. It had been he who had been victorious in the Tourney at Highgarden and yet that field was far from as true as it could have been. The Mountain and the Kingsguard not having taken part as they were here today. Still, even had he been competing it would have stopped Robert's coin going on the Mountain not. Even the fact that Jon Stark was doing so in the tourney wouldn't change his mind regarding placing his wager on his son.

"Gods to see them face off, what a thrill that will be." he laughed as he held his horn out to be refilled and as the herald bid the melee to begin.

Storm's End 295 AC.

The Melee.

Jaime Lannister.

Tourneys always stirred up mixed emotions for Jaime Lannister. It had been at mayhap the most famous or infamous one of all that he'd been gifted his white cloak and named to the Kingsguard. A mummery disguised as the greatest honor of his life as he was later to find out. He'd then been refused leave to participate in said tourney and was ordered to return to King's Landing, something which grated on him still to this day.

So Jaime had not seen the match between Prince Rhaegar and Barristan the Bold, nor was he there when it was Lyanna Stark and not Princess Elia who was crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty. He had heard of it however and he knew the prince as much as any man, other than Arthur Dayne, and still to this day he named it not an act of folly or lust as some did.

In the intervening years between then and now, Jaime had won his fair share of honors at various tourneys. Be that in the melee or, more often than not, the joust. His own Queen of Love and Beauty had always been the very same woman and crowning her usually led to him being rewarded later by Cersei.

For this tourney, however, it would be someone else who'd be wearing that crown as Jaime would not be competing. Neither he nor the Blackfish would take part in the joust and while he could still enter the melee, he would not. The idea of being so close to the Mountain with a sword in hand was one that while appealing, would not come to pass. Jaime knew all too well that if that was to be the case then one of them would fall that day.

'For Elia and Rhaenys.'

That alone was not the reason he'd not compete this time round, however. Had Syrio Forel been named among the competitors of the melee, then Jaime would have taken his chance at controlling his temper just for the opportunity to face the man for true. While in the joust, Joffrey's participation was enough to forgo his own. The idea of his son riding and mayhap winning was enough for Jaime to wish not to compete and he'd not lie and say the thoughts of a match between Joffrey and Jon Stark didn't raise his interest.

'Though not as much as the king's.'

Robert may not have banned them from entering the joust, but he had made it clear he wished them not to. So none of them would and instead, it would be the melee where his so-called sworn brothers would seek to earn their renown and by the king and queen's sides that he and Brynden would stand. It was mayhap because of this that Jaime put some of his other training to the test. His observation skills were used on those around him rather than in seeking out any threats to the royal family or weaknesses in opponents he may face.

It was through these that he noticed Joffrey's interest in Margaery Tyrell and at first, it worried him some. The ideas of his son making the same mistakes that Rhaegar had, as well as history repeating itself, were not ones that Jaime wished to ponder on. Soon, however, it became clear to him that Joffrey had no true interest in Margaery Tyrell and that instead, it was to rile up Jon Stark that his son looked the Rose's way. A small smile came to Jaime's face when he saw that was so and it had allowed him to speak the truth of things on the night of the feast.

In truth, it would mayhap be in his cousin that Joffrey would find the truest bride of all, and that it was something that the girl's mother was so in favor of was just as clear to Jaime. Cassana Baratheon would rival her mother's beauty one day and other than Bethany Stark, there truly was no other choice for the next queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jaime knew that his sister would never agree to the fierce little wolf being wedded to her firstborn son, however. As for the Rose of Highgarden, betrothed or not she never would have been acceptable to either his sister or Robert, even if his father would happily welcome the match.

Thoughts of the Rose soon turned Jaime's attention to the young man she was to be married to. Jon Stark was an enigma to him at times. A boy he should hate given who his father was and yet Jaime never saw Eddard Stark when he looked at his bastard son. Instead, it was the boy's mother that came to mind and even more so his uncle. Arthur was forever his hero and he hoped the boy looked up to him as he deserved and not down upon him for his actions at a tower in Dorne.

'Would I was there with you or you were in the Red Keep with me. Would that we were both on the Trident that fateful day, old friend.'

Turning his mind from such thoughts and back to the lad in question, Jaime noticed how stiffly Jon Stark sat while in Tyrell's section of the stands. The North had not truly turned out for this tourney and he wagered Jon Stark would not have was it not for the raven sent from the king. Yet to see him and his betrothed ignore each other was a sign that it wasn't just his lack of Bannermen or family that was the reason for the scowl he wore.

Briefly, ever briefly, Jaime caught a sight of a ghost in the crowd, and only when the cloud passed over the sun again did the sight of Ser Richard Lonmouth fade away. Jaime shook his head as he caught Ser Symon Lake speak to Syrio Forel, and tried not to think of Rhaegar's former squires. Ser Myles had fallen to Robert's hammer at the Battle of the Trident, while the name of the man who'd ended the Knight of Skulls and Kisses was unknown.

'Another good and true man taken before his time' Jaime sighed.

Hearing the names of the competitors being called out filled him with no true interest in the competition soon to take place. Five Kingsguard to compete and other than Ser Rolland Storm and mayhap Ser Mandon Moore, none of them would truly pose anyone a threat. The Bastard of Nightsong was the only man that Jaime would wager would give the Mountain a match here today. Jaime liked it not that the monster who'd raped and killed a princess and murdered her babe would win the day. As he liked it not that it was he who his father had seen fit to have Joffrey learn under. The words his son spoke to him about killers and bringing death were ones that Jaime still felt a shiver run down his spine.

"You killed a king, uncle."

Jaime had not, he'd killed a madman, there was a difference. Not that anyone knew what that difference was or his reasons for running his sword through Aerys' back.

"Mayhap the queen knows," he whispered hopefully.

His words were spoken a little too loudly and Cersei looked at him with her eyebrow raised, Jaime doing his best to wave it off by smiling at his sister. To her left, Myrcella and Tommen sat and looked almost disinterested in what was about to happen. His youngest son preferred to play with his cats, while his daughter was happiest amongst her flowers. As for his older son, Jaime liked not the look on Joffrey's face as he looked out onto the field in front of him. Nor the glint in his eyes and closing his own, he offered a prayer to gods he believed in not.

"Let it be silly worries and baseless doubts, I beg of you."

Turning from his family, it was once again to Jon Stark that he looked and once again Jaime was left facing ghosts of the past. A trick of the light. The way the sun caught Jon Stark's dark hair or mayhap simply the melancholic look on the young man's face. All of that added to seeing the shadow of a man long since dead earlier on, led to seeing a much more troubling shadow now. This one of a prince who fell and whose promise was snuffed out by the man that Jaime now served. A prince who'd promised him things would change and yet in the years since he breathed his last, Rhaegar's promise had gone unfulfilled.

Will his brothers be the same?

Will Rhaella see done what her son could not?

Am I right to stand here when I long to be there?

Will it be Arthur and Dawn that ends my life and sends me to the seven hells where I belong?

They were questions that would receive no answers today. Though ones that would and could remain unasked for only so long. One day the Dragons would return and Lions, Stags, Falcons, and Wolves would not be enough to stop them from the vengeance and justice that they were owed.

'One day they'll burn us all.' Jaime thought to himself as the melee began in earnest.

Ser Symon Lake.

Other than but for one reason, Symon had no wish to compete in the melee. Had he the ability to do what needed to be done, however, then nothing mayhap would have stopped him, other than a direct order from Jon. To see the monster walk around and breathe good air while they did not, almost demanded it of him. Yet, truth be told, it would take a much truer blade than his own to take the Mountain from this world and others were owed vengeance and justice more than he.

It had been that and the touch of Jon's arm on his that had stopped his brief encounter with the Mountain from turning violent. The Enormity that Rides along with those who served almost seemed to go out of their way to provoke and antagonize his charge. Jon somehow managed to stay above it all and to make sure that he too did so and so insults were swallowed if not accepted.

Later, Syrio had come to him and offered him his blade if he wished for it. The Braavosi had told him that he would be willing to see the monster amongst men dead and yet Symon had bid him hold back for now. Thoughts of Barristan the Bold, of the Sword of the Morning, and even of Jon himself ending the Mountain's life were more than enough to see that so. While a part of him knew that even above each of those he'd named there was one who wished it to be his hands that removed this stain on the world from the land of the living.

'The Red Viper.'

Symon knew too that as much as it was like the Mountain and the men who served him to provoke and attempt to bully, they were not the instigators of their little encounter. The prince they served had sent them to rile up those who served Jon and to try and create a situation where blood needed to be spilled. Another poor attempt by Joffrey Baratheon to get under Jon's skin as he'd been doing much of since this tourney began. Attention paid to the Rose of Highgarden showing that even more clearly than the scowls, laughter and now sending of his men their way had done.

"I am fully aware of the games the Poncy Prince is playing, Ser Symon and they bother me not."

"You don't fear being shamed by him, Jon? That is his intent, you know."

"Aye, I know. Yet in time, mine own intent will be to do far more than shame him back."

Symon found he enjoyed those words. The ones spoken on a war that would one day be waged were few and far between but they were words that were now spoken far more often. A letter had been sent to Braavos and to the Queen in Exile and it was one which bore the words of a king. Jon was daily becoming more and more of one in waiting at least.

'Though not one who looks forward to wedding his queen, more's the pity.'

When it came to Jon and the Rose of Highgarden, there was politeness and little else thus far during the tourney. With her father and mother there was more discomfort than anything else, with Margaery Tyrell there was little fondness shown, on Jon's part at least. If it was not for Ashara then Symon would know the reason not and once he'd been told, he found himself standing up for the girl in question. Her words had hurt Jon deeply and yet they were words that had been taken wrongly. Or so Symon believed.

He was thankful there was no change in Jon's relationship with Loras despite what his sister had said. His former squire was the only one of the fosterlings to have come to the tourney and Jon was most pleased to see him. As he was too to see Asha Greyjoy's brother and given what the messenger had brought him earlier that day, even more so.

"For you Lord Jon, from Winterfell." the diminutive man said as he handed Jon the sealed letter.

"From my Uncle? Aunt? Or my cousins?"

"From the Ironborn hostage."

Symon understood not how the men and women of the Crannogs did the things they did. Ravens, letters, and messages from around the realm, all were collected and delivered far more quickly than they had a right to be. Was he to wager, then he'd say it was something to do with how easily it was for them to mingle in and remain unseen. However, even that did not explain how a letter could be sent from Winterfell to Storm's End and arrive so quickly.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he turned to where Jon and Loras were speaking to each other about the competitors in the tourney. Looking out to the field, he was surprised to see a man almost as large as the Mountain. Only that the man wore a white cloak or he'd have been able to name him not. Ser Rolland Storm, the Bastard of Nightsong, if the gods were good then today he'd see a Mountain fall. Symon however had long since given up believing in gods of any sort. For had they existed, then the lad who sat not more than two seats away from him would have grown up with a family by blood rather than one by choice.

"LET THE MELEE COMMENCE!"

Very early some things became clear. The Mountain, Ser Rolland Storm, Ser Robar Royce, and Ser Mandon Moore were the best in the field. Each of them easily dispatched their first opponents and Ser Robar proved himself adept while ahorse. Symon's eyes easily found the Mountain as he was almost impossible to miss. It pained him to see how easily the man took yet another poor soul from his horse and almost as much to see him then try to run the man down. His blood lust was apparent to any with eyes to see and looking at Jon, Symon could see that he too saw it.

His charge wore a look that Symon hated seeing on his face and yet it was one that no man deserved aimed at him more so than the Mountain who Rides. Hatred, a wish for death and a bloody one at that, along with a longing to see justice finally served. It was each and all of those things and yet for today at least it was a look that would find not what it wished for.

"There is always the morrow." Symon smiled.

Mace Tyrell.

There had been a time when Mace loved nothing more than attending a tourney. The pageantry of it all, the sight of good and true warriors facing off against each other in tests of strength and skill. Even though it had never been something that Mace would ever excel at, he'd been fortunate enough to see those who did. From Barristan the Bold to the White Bull, Yohn Royce, and even Robert Baratheon for a time. Above them all, however, two men had stood taller than any. Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.

Mayhap that was why Mace was able to put aside his feelings regarding Willas' injury and why that had come about and instead look to the son of the dragon as he followed in his father's footsteps. For other than having Jon Stark to look to, Mace would be left with only his son to worry about and after Willas' accident, he could barely look Loras' way when he competed. The fear and worry that he felt, along with the annoyance when his thoughts turned to his mother and her insistence that his children needed to be seen in the lists, would have been his overriding emotions.

Not that he didn't fear for the boy who would be his future Goodson, mind. Yet given the things that Jon Stark would need to do to win a crown, it was a lesser fear that Mace felt when it came to tilting in the lists. Besides, turning to where his daughter and the young lad in question sat, Mace had other things to worry about when it came to this tourney. Margaery had already felt the bite of his tongue due to her actions at the feast and he prayed to the Crone to give her the wisdom to accept his words. Harsh though those words were.

"What were you thinking?"

"Father?"

"You are a girl betrothed, one due to be wed to the Warden of the North and yet you think I alone see how you act with your betrothed?"

"I asked not for such."

"No, you did not, and yet that was the match made for you, young lady. By your grandmother and approved by your mother and me no less."

"After Lynesse…." Margaery began and Mace was glad he'd decided to have this conversation without her mother being present.

"Your aunt was troubled long afore she went North, and we still have not recovered our standing for her actions," Mace said firmly. Hating himself for doing so just a little since he and Alerie had played a large role in seeing those actions realized.

"I wish not for the marriage, father. I wish not to live in the North and see not what benefit it brings us in me being tied to Jon Stark. Not when other matches are far more suitable and desirable."

Mace sighed and cursed himself for not having this conversation in Highgarden and his mother just as much for telling his son and not his daughter the truth of things. He wished now Alerie was here to whisper the truth in Margaery's ear and yet he knew that truth could not be one that was spoken in a keep that was not their own. Stannis Baratheon may be a man who held to his honesty as well as anyone, he was not above playing the Game of Thrones, however.

"What benefit it brings us has already been decided, Sweetling. Know simply that this is the match above all we wish for and that in Jon Stark we believe you'll find a man who'll be the very best husband to you."

"Even above the prince?" Margaery asked, confused.

"Even above the prince."

Mace had thought his words had gotten through to his daughter and had reluctantly accepted her excuse for dancing with the prince, though he'd needed Alerie's words and explanation to truly do so. His wife told him in no uncertain terms that despite being betrothed, no woman could refuse the request of a prince when it came to a dance. Not unless she wished to cause a bigger scene than simply dancing with him would do. Mace listened and yet he agreed not, for given who this particular prince's father was, he believed that should Jon Stark have made a scene or Margaery herself, they'd have had a king on their side.

'Mayhap more so had it been Jon Stark who'd done so.'

Shaking his head from such thoughts and again looking to where Loras was speaking to his sister and that Jon Stark seemed to be taking an active part in the conversation, Mace relaxed a little. The sounds of steel on wood and horses whinnying were enough to make him focus on the melee once more and he snarled when he saw the reason for both. No man deserved death as much as the Mountain who Rides, in Mace's view. Not even the man who'd given him his orders that fateful day. So to see him take down men from their horses as easily as he was managing to do so, was not something he welcomed.

Quickly seeking someone else to focus on, Mace almost smirked to see Edmure Tully unhorsed by Robar Royce. Both the heir of Riverrun and his father had shown their dislike of Mace and his House already during this tourney and Hoster had even tried to lord over him when it came to Margaery's betrothal. Words spoken of how a Prince of the Realm was what he'd expected House Tyrell to seek for their Golden Rose and spoken loudly enough for Mace to hear them for true. The laughter from the Riverlands table was not something he enjoyed hearing and yet he too found a reason to smile and laugh.

'For he who laughs last laughs loudest, Trout. And I will much enjoy mine time when it comes.'

With the vast majority of the field now beaten and those on horseback ready to dismount, Mace again took stock of the competitors who remained. The Mountain was no doubt the favorite and Mace saw none that he'd name a match for him. Ser Rolland Storm and Yohn Royce were both fierce and if they worked together, then mayhap, and yet Mace knew they'd not work together. While young Robar showed promise and so it was he that he truly concentrated on for the next hour or more. Mace even forgoing looking at his Bannermen and their fiercest knights as his mind began to wander.

By the time the Mountain had done for young Robar, it was down to the last three. Yohn Royce and Rolland Storm were in the midst of their own battle and the Monster Amongst Men was deliberating over whether to take them both on or wait until one was victorious, the latter winning out. When the thought came to him, Mace followed it to where it would inevitably lead. His eyes looking blankly out on the final battle between the Mountain and Rolland Storm and was he to think much on it, then he'd imagine he looked to all and sundry exactly how they believed him to be. In his mind, however, Mace was planning and plotting and one thought was most prevalent. The war to come and how to make that war even more winnable.

The West. The Stormlands, The Riverlands, and the Vale. There would be none in the first two that could be turned to the right side and while there would be some in the third, it was the fourth that Mace now pondered on. In the Rebellion there had only been one or two Houses in the Vale that fought on the side of the Dragons, the others all joining with the Falcon, and yet, there was mayhap an opportunity there to change things this time around, was there not?

But how?

How could they bring more than House Grafton and some minor House to their side?

What steps could they take to weaken the Vale even further?

Later that night as he watched the young lad be patted on the back proudly by his father, Mace saw the beginnings of a plan take shape. Waiting until the lad was alone, he made his way to where Robar Royce stood and he too offered him congratulations on his showing earlier that day.

"You fought well, young Ser, were it not for facing the man who won it all, it may have been you taking the plaudits today."

"I thank you, Lord Tyrell, though I wager my father may have something different to say about that." Robar smiled.

"True, still as fierce a fighting man as ever is your father, Ser Robar."

"That he is."

"Will you be competing in the joust too?"

"I will, though 'tis the melee where I find the most favor, my brother Andar is a far better lance than I."

"I've not seen him here, is he joining us later?"

"He sits in my father's stead, my lord," Robar said proudly.

"And yourself, your plans after this tourney is ended, will it be another that you seek and more fame and renown?"

"In time, yes. Though I know not where one is to be held, or when."

"Then I bid you come to the Arbor in two moons' time, my niece's Nameday will see her father throw a large tourney no doubt and should you wish to stop and Highgarden before then, why you'd be more than welcome to sup at our table, Ser, more than welcome indeed."

"I thank you, Lord Tyrell, for a good and true offer and one I'll be glad to accept."

"Good fortune in the joust, Ser Robar and I look forward to seeing you test your mettle in the Arbor."

"As do I, my lord." Robar smiled a true smile.

Mace hoped the young man was a decent jouster. He doubted he'd win and given his son and Jon Stark were competing, even less so. However, if he was at least decent with a lance in hand then he may earn many a maiden's favor. Given his good looks and his skills in the melee, he may even earn his niece's in time.

Now all he needed to do was to convince Paxter to host a tourney and then have Alerie speak to Mina and talk up the potential match. House Royce either sitting out the war to come or even joining their side when it did, would send a powerful message. The Game was ever-evolving and unless you moved and moved quickly, you'd find you already lost. Considering what the stakes of this particular Game were, that was not something Mace would allow to come to pass.

"You win or you die," Mace whispered as he looked to where Jon Stark was leading Margaery to the dance floor.

A/N: Up Next: The Joust takes place as both a Prince and a Lord do all they can to win. Theon finds Jon Stark to not be as he believed him to be. Both Margaery and Cassana see both sides of Joffrey's personality and find themselves longing to be crowned, even if they seek different men to be the ones to do so.