Weiss
The feast that night ended up being delayed by a few hours instead of outright canceled. It made sense, all the guests still present did need to eat, after all, and they had everything already set up. Weiss was seated near a table in the center, which was still far from the Royal Table, all the way by the steep stairs that led to the Iron Throne. Whispers and rumors had already started to spread, that the Lord Hand had already died, that he ate some bad food, or that he had been poisoned. All Weiss knew, was that King Robert had truly been shaken, despite his attempts to hide his sad, dark blue eyes with laughter as he groped another serving lady, a different one and not the same wench as from yesterday. Thankfully, Weiss had been able to leave early, before the dancing started, to spend some time by herself in her room.
The Lannisport Heiress had been laying on her bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. She wasn't close to Jon Arryn, she hadn't even spoken a word to him since her arrival, but even Weiss knew that should he die, something would change, she just didn't know what. Not yet at least, while Weiss knew how to handle politics, she was a stranger to King's Landing and it's political scene. The Royal Court was full of Westermen, Valemen, Stormmen, and an assorted amount of lords and ladies from the other kingdoms and even those across the sea. Here in the Royal Capital, only the cutthroat and savvy would survive, and the threat of death would always be present in all dealings. She couldn't wait to return to Lannisport, her home, Weiss only wished that she could bring Blake back with her. Instead, the dark haired beauty would be sailing for Dragonstone within a few hours, at first light.
Weiss was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a soft knock at her door. Three taps, a pause, and then another three, their old signal back at Beacon to make sure their room wasn't occupied. Blake was here! She was a little late, but that was understandable considering what was going on with the Lord Hand, slipping away must've been more difficult for her. The white haired girl jumped up from her bed, smoothing out her skirt, she hadn't changed from the dress she wore for the feast, not yet. The door slowly creaked open, and a pair of golden-amber eyes stared at her from the darkness, until Blake walked in, the dim light from the candles casting a light shadow over her pale flesh. She closed the door behind her, and locked it.
"Blake!" Weiss said in Mistrali, quickly throwing her arms around the slightly taller girl's neck. The dark haired girl caught her, returning Weiss' embrace, but a bit slower. "How's the Lord Hand?"
Blake grimace was plain to see as they slowly parted, though they continued to hold each other's hands. "Lord Arryn is still alive. Grand Maester Pycelle claims that it's just a chill, coupled with spending too much time in the sun under a tarp, and that he should hopefully recover with treatment. He is an old man, and exhausted from ruling. The Lord Hand just needs to rest, and he should be up and about in no time at all."
That was a relief. The Lord Hand was the second most powerful man in all Seven Kingdoms, only being overruled by the king himself. And with King Robert focusing on whoring, drinking and feasting, Weiss wouldn't be surprised if the Hand and the Small Council did all of the actual ruling. If the Hand died, the resulting political storm would drastically impact the Kingdoms, as everyone clamored for the job. All while the Kingdom was adrift, rudderless without anyone at the helm.
"That's good." Weiss sighed in relief at the news. She was still due to leave in a few hours, even with what happened at the tourney. Her win during the melee made her several thousand gold dragons richer, and transporting that to Lannisport would have to be a priority, to be used to help fund a few projects that she had in mind for her city. That's what her brain was telling her, yet her heart wanted to stay in King's Landing longer to spend more time with Blake.
"With Lord Arryn sick, I heard that Lord Tywin asked my Uncle if he wanted him to serve as Hand, until Lord Arryn woke." Blake continued, her voice hesitant, oddly enough. "His Grace rejected the offer." And that likely meant that Weiss would have to depart as scheduled. A pity.
"Lord Tywin will see it as an insult." Weiss guided Blake to the bed, the two huntresses taking a seat on the mattress, which dipped under their weight.
"Don't you think it's a bit suspicious?" Blake said evenly, unusually so at that. "The Lord Hand collapses, and now Lord Tywin asks to be named his replacement?"
Weiss frowned, knowing what her dear friend was implying. "Lord Tywin is many things, but he's not an idiot. And besides, you just said that the Grand Maester called it a chill? You know how easily people die here from disease, especially an old man who has been keeping this place running while Robert feasts himself into a grave."
Lord Tywin liked to view himself as a political mastermind, which he somewhat was, even if it was exaggerated at times. Poisoning the Hand and asking to be his replacement would be the move of an imbecile, not someone with as much experience as the Lord of the Westerlands or a former King's Hand. Such a move would cause a war with not just the Vale, but the Riverlands, Stormlands, and draw the ire of King Robert. As strong as the Westerlands were, not even they could win a war with all the other kingdoms against them, and Lord Tywin knew that very well. Odds are it was just him seizing an opportunity presented to him, coupled with knowing he did have experience in the role to temporarily take over.
Blake pressed her lips into a thin line, and nodded hesitantly. She leaned and placed her head on Weiss' shoulder, which allowed the white haired girl to gently rub her back. "I don't want to argue politics with you, not after we finally found each other."
Weiss hadn't even noticed that they were arguing, and she knew what it was like to argue with Blake. Their dorm room had played host to a variety of arguments while they had been at Beacon, mostly between them, but on occasion Yang and Ruby would be drawn in. The Lannisters and Baratheon's were allies, unless there were individuals that were trying to play the Game of Thrones, attempting to break apart that alliance.
"We won't let such lines get in our way." Weiss whispered back as she rested her head on Blake's. She continued rubbing circles around the former faunus' back. "Even if we have to leave each other for a short while now, we'll always find our way back to each other."
"That's true." Blake sighed. "At least Lannisport is much closer and more connected than the North, or Essos. I wish you were a Velaryon."
Weiss scoffed. "So I would end up being your bannerman? How sneaky of you, Lady Baratheon. Besides, my uncle is Lord Velaryon, and his son would have a stronger claim. I'd likely end up as someone's broodmare." She had hoped one of her Uncle's would have participated in the tourney, so she could get to know them better.
"Technically, you are my bannerman, from a certain point of view." Blake smirked. "My cousin is the Crown Prince, so doesn't that make me a princess?" Now that was just malarkey, and plain made up. The Lannisters of Lannisport were sworn directly to Casterly Rock, and the Rock to King Robert.
"If you're being technical, I was the one who crowned you 'Princess', so what does that really make me?" Weiss said as she playfully rolled her eyes. It was comforting, just the two of them together, alone at last. Blake's breathing sounded like a symphony, one that would likely take months or longer for Weiss to hear again.
"My darling knight, of course." Blake teased with a wry smile that reached her eyes. "You looked so dashing in your shining armor, you were like the Dragonknight or the Rusted Knight himself."
"Please, we both know that I'm much prettier than either of them." Weiss tossed a lock of her hair over her shoulder. Even back on Remnant, where Aura allowed people to be beautiful and in peak physical condition, Weiss was considered gorgeous. Not even the scar the Arma Gigas had given her could diminish that. If anything, it added to her beauty, in her mind.
"You're cocky, for a Lannister." Blake wrapped her arms around Weiss' waist, her head still leaning against the white haired girl's shoulder.
"And you're too quiet, for a Baratheon." Weiss fired back with a sly smile. The two girls sat in silence for a few minutes, when Weiss chose to break the silence.
"I'm going to miss you, even more now that I know you're alive." Weiss croaked, unintentionally ruining the moment. Life was unfair and always getting in the way. Both in Remnant, and in here.
"Me too." Blake finally straightened her back, angling her body in Weiss' direction, which the smaller girl mimicked. "But we'll always be able to find each other again, and we can send letters until we're able to visit each other!"
"I think you'll like Lannisport more than I'll like Dragonstone." Weiss teased, placing a hand on Blake's cheek. "I'd rather visit Driftmark than your pile of rocks."
"A pile of rocks is better than a mountain of shit." Blake said with a light giggle, which soon interrupted into laughter from the two of them as they said their goodbyes with tears and the tightest hugs possible.
Everyone knew that Tywin Lannister shit gold.
Stannis
The Lannisters were bolder than Stannis has anticipated, but that was to be expected. Jon Arryn was the Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale, and Hand of the King, one of the most powerful men in all the Seven Kingdoms, only outranked by Robert himself. The Vale, allied to the Riverlands through Lord Arryn's marriage to Lysa Tully, made the Old Falcon the perfect choice to serve as Robert's Hand following the end of the Rebellion. Honorable, respected by all, diplomatic, and having vital ties to a few of the Kingdoms, on paper, he was an ideal Hand. Stannis hated to admit it, but the Old Falcon had managed to set up a powerblock that should've lasted decades, especially by arranging Eddard Stark to marry Catelyn Tully, Lady Lysa's older sister. The Vale, Riverlands, Stormlands, and the North in an irontight alliance that would no doubt start to unravel with the Lannisters meddling in the Royal Court.
With dark eyes and heavy footsteps, Stannis made his way to his eldest daughter's quarters, with two of his loyal knights following behind. With the Lord Hand stuck in his sickbed from a chill, he was vulnerable, even if he wasn't being treated by the Lannister's pet Grand Maester. How long before the Hand's sickness 'mysteriously' killed him, despite the 'best efforts' of Pycelle? All the plans and arrangements that the Master-Of-Ships had made would have to be changed, and rapidly at that. Already, he was encountering roadblocks from all sides, not helped by the fact that the Hand was the one who had made contact with many potential conspirators, and hadn't told any of them Stannis was involved.
Lysa Tully had barricaded herself in the Vale quarters, with Vale Knights and men-at-arms preventing the entrance of anyone the Lord Hand's wife did not permit. That, unfortunately, seemed to include everyone except for the occasional food delivery. With that, the plan to foster Robert Arryn was a failure, since forcing the mad woman to hand him over would no doubt result in bloodshed, and earn Stannis more suspicion from the Lannisters. The Old Knight had been forced to discreetly depart, already sailing for Dragonstone on the Black Bertha with those few servants who he had been able to convince to come along. He reached the hallway to Blake's quarters, with Ser Richard pausing at the intersection to keep an eye out, a hand resting by the hilt of his sheathed sword. Ser Rolland continued behind him, his head on the lookout, the Red Keep was infested with hidden passages, anyone could strike from hiding without any warning.
Robert was inconsolable, spending his time drinking and whoring, convinced that the Lord Hand would soon recover from his illness, regardless of the facts of the matter. He had been drunk, more so than usual, when he yelled at Lord Tywin, declaring that the Lannister would never be hand, not as long as he lived. Stannis ground his teeth even more at the memory. His older brother was an idiot antagonizing a lion whose pride had already been hurt, though Stannis would likely have reacted similarly. What wasn't helping matters was, for once, he was doing the right thing and denying the Lannisters a position of power, while also at the same time managing to fuck it up. Stupid Robert, who was now too fat to even wear his breastplate. At least the Lannister's were in the process of leaving, they should be by the outskirts of the city by now.
Stannis soon reached Blake's quarters, located deep within Maegor's Holdfast. The room she had been assigned once belonged to one of the lesser Targaryens, hence why it was a few floors away from the Royal Apartments.
"Guard the door." He said, not even turning his head to give Ser Rolland a glance. The pox-scarred knight nodded and turned to keep an eye on the hallway behind him. Stannis knocked on the door, which creaked open after a few seconds.
Blake stared at him with her amber eyes, with dark bags underneath them, as if she hadn't slept. She blinked a few times in confusion. "Father? I'm already packed and ready to return-"
Stannis movedinto her room, carefully, to not knock her over and quickly closed the door behind him, locking it. Blake seemed confused at his actions, and if she had been asleep when he arrived, she was clearly awake now. "What's going on, Father?"
"Sit." Stannis motioned towards her desk, not giving her an answer just yet. Blake did as commanded, though with some hesitation. Not that she could blame him, he was acting unusually.
"Did something happen?" Blake asked, looking up at him with confusion. Stannis grunted as grabbed an expensive, wooden chair with dragons carved on the back and legs, and placed it across from her. The wood creaked as he sat on it, unused to such a large man.
"With the Lord Hand indisposed, it is time that I bring you into the fold regarding our plans." Stannis admitted with a low voice that belied his fears. Blake was to be his heir, the future Lady of Dragonstone, and should Robert die without a trueborn heir, she would be the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a heavy burden indeed, but it was their duty.
"Plans?" Blake frowned, a strange and queer expression when compared to her usual indifference.
"Shireen will return to Dragonstone alone. By now, she should already be aboard Sea Snake, escorted by Ser Waymar Royce and Ser Gerald Gower." Stannis ignored her, crossing his arms over his chest. "The two of you leaving together would draw too much suspicion, there are too many eyes watching." Blake was capable of defending herself, equal to the Lannister girl that Lord Tywin had brought. However, she was his daughter and heir. He was allowed to fear for her safety.
Blake's eyes widened slowly in shock at what he was saying. "Father, what's going on?"
"Tell me, Blake, do you truly believe that the Lord Hand has come down with a chill?" Stannis questioned. There was no need to dance around the topic like the Spider. Blunt honesty was far more effective, and also was impossible to misinterpret.
Blake hesitated for only a second. "N-No. He may have been old, but he has always been robust and active for his age."
"Because he has been poisoned." Stannis narrowed his eyes as he spoke with gritted teeth. This was going to be a uncomfortable conversation, to say the least. Blake was off balance, she was normally more quick-witted than this. "By the Lannisters."
Blake's indifferent mask returned, there was the daughter that he knew. "But why would they risk poisoning the Lord Hand? The Iron Throne is already theirs with Joffrey as Crown Prince. All they would have to do is wait, and it would fall into their hands."
"Because Joffrey is no son of Robert." Stannis whispered, yet his voice remained hard and unmoving. Blake's mask shattered as her golden eyes widened once more in shock. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly. "And neither is Tommen nor Myrcella."
"W-What are you saying, Father?" Blake lowered her voice, though the news seemed to have shocked her. Not that he could blame her, it was shocking when he'd first learned it, but upon reflection, it made sense.
"Haven't you seen it? Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella are not Robert's children, they are not your kin. They have the Lannister look, yellow hair, green eyes, they look more like their true father. " Stannis ground his teeth as he spoke. "They are nothing more than bastards, born of incest to that Whore Queen and her Kingslaying Brother."
"Those are treasonous words." Blake said simply, looking away. She wasn't wrong, this could easily be used against him if the wrong person was eavesdropping.
"The Lord Hand and I have been investigating for several moons. Brothels, whores, every single one of Robert's bastards have the Baratheon look, even to mother's with yellow hair. Even you, your Mother has light hair, yet you and Shireen have the color of a Baratheon." Stannis continued speaking. Using the color of Blake and Shireen's hair when compared to their Mother was the first evidence that convinced Jon Arryn of that Whore's infidelity. "And now, just when he plans on telling Robert, he collapsed at the tourney? The man's been poisoned, despite what Tywin's pet claims."
"What are we to do?" Blake finally turned to meet his eyes, as they narrowed. He slowly stood from his seat. He strode over to the window to look out at the estuary where the Blackwater Rush transformed into the Bay.
"Robert will not choose another Hand as long as Jon Arryn lives. We must hope that he survives." Stannis admitted, to both himself and Blake, the sad truth. Robert would never believe him, only Jon Arryn or Eddard Stark were capable of convincing the fat King, he loved that Stark more than his own blood. "However, should Jon Arryn pass, I will press Robert to name me as his Hand." The authority he had as Master-Of-Ships would not be enough. He was aware of how suspicious it would look, but he had no choice.
The Queen Whore and her bastards may enjoy their time at Casterly Rock, but once Robert named him Hand, and they returned from King's Landing, all they would receive as a welcome would be the Black Cells. And from there, they would go to the Faith, the Wall, or the headsman's block. He sensed Blake standing beside him looking out as well. She placed her hand on his arm, as he gave her a brief glance. Blake looked like her Mother, with the Baratheon colors. He was so proud of her.
"That bastard shall never sit upon the Iron Throne."
A/N
And with that, the tourney arc is now over! And what a wild ride it has been. Weiss and Blake have finally been reunited, just to be seperated once more. Hopefully they'll be able to see each other again soon.
Time for the next arc!