The Old Lion
The storm pelted the walls in a volley of rain. Men scattered into the wind for shelter amid the ruins of the castle. Tywin walked from the window and back to the maps on Lord Rowan's desk. My desk now. And poured himself a glass of wine as he charted the course for House Lannister. They had lost two thousand men storming the walls. I can't replace such losses against a foe like the Reach. But it had been needed. He couldn't leave Goldengrove threatening his rear as he marched to Bitterbridge.
Bitterbridge is where the future of House Lannister would be decided. A modest castle located where the river Mander meets the Roseroad. It was key that he secured it before Renly Baratheon marched to join up with the Tyrell levies gathering in Highgarden. At Bitterbridge, he would lay his trap and seek to end the war in one swift stroke.
Legacy… my legacy.
This was his last war he would fight, and it was not one he could win militarily unless his foes proved witless. The pen shall secure my victory. Or I shall extract a painful price for my defeat. Riders and bands of smallswords and free riders roamed the countryside like locusts burning villages and towns from Old Oak to Goldengrove. They put the small folk to the sword and burned her fields. Victory or defeat, the Reach shall burn.
The Lannister name would be respected and feared.
Legacy was the only thing that mattered.
Tonight under the cover of darkness they would depart like thieves into the night and force march to Bitterbridge while Ser Lyle Crakehall pressed down the Oceanroad to threaten Highgarden and encouraged Lord Tyrell to give chase and bleed him all the way back to the Westerlands borders. Even with the host forming under Daven Lannister, Ser Lyle couldn't hope to withstand a host of at least seventy thousand swords, especially under the command of capable men like Lord Tarly. The Oaf of Highgarden wouldn't be foolish enough to take charge. Even if he were sounder, minds among him would prevail. Lord Tarly was a solider and would cut through them like a knife through butter.
"My lord." Maester Ondrew of Goldengrove bowed. "Word from Casterly Rock."
Tywin gave a tiny nod of acknowledgment and waved him away. He looked it over and over and frowned.
His son was dead.
Jaime was dead.
It was disappointing he died half a world away a simple glorified bodyguard, but he didn't rage. It wouldn't accomplish anything. Jaime is now beyond even my reach. The Heir of the Rock should have set the Reach ablaze, not dying for an ill-born prince.
All of his children were dead or imprisoned. Cersei lay imprisoned in the Maidenvault. Even Tyrion seemed to be lost to him. Kevan and his eldest boy were dead slain by Tyrell ambition.
My family. My legacy is dropping like flies.
The dynasty he forged with Johanna was unraveling before his eyes. We built this together. A dynasty to last a thousand years. Two golden twins, the jewels of the west. Jaime, his heir, and Cersei, a future queen of the realm. He drank some wine and closed his eyes and imagined her in the flesh. What would she have said to this madness and stupidity? The Lannister cause held no true heir left to him save his grandson Crown Prince Tommen, whom was becoming the last hope for his dynasty.
Old I may be, but my claws remain sharp. Tywin thought. Even if I fail, I shall take down the Tyrell-Baratheon Union. His eyes focused upon the only chance for survival at the castle where he had to risk it all. If he defeated Lord Renly's host and seized the man, he could withdraw in good order back to the Westerlands. Bartering chips to see a negotiated settlement from the Crown when they eventually mustered her forces. If I lose the field of battle, I risk being encircled and cut off.
It was his only card to retreat, or attempt to consolidate his gains would be a mistake. They have backed me into a corner. Tywin knew and smiled. It would be their downfall. A cornered lion was a terrible thing.
If he had the backing of the Crown and control of the king, he could have twisted the Connington against the Baratheons or the Florents against the Tyrells. But Cersei failed him. Almost as disappointing as Jaime. Without the support of the Iron Throne, it curtailed his ability to foster dissent in either region. The Starks controlled the Iron Throne and every lord south of the neck understood that fact and Lord Starks disdain of him and the reality of power was well known. Any promise he offered would be toothless and they would know it.
His two nephews, Willem and Martyn, entered with his dinner. The boys were quiet in his company, cowed by his presence. "Sit." He said, grabbing his fork. "Join me for supper."
"My lord?" Martyn said sheepishly, while his brother whitened like a ghost.
"Are you Lannisters? Or sheep?" Tywin said. "Sit. Relax." Both of them nodded and seated themselves in ash wood chairs. "Tell me what are they saying beyond this room."
All of Kevan's children were painfully soft. My brother spoiled the child by sparing the rod.
"Go on." Tywin urged as he took a bite of some crunchy bread with jam and washed it down with some wine.
Martyn nodded. "All the lords and knights know you shall save us. The Old Lion whose cunning knows no bounds." He said with conviction. "He shall defend the West from those who mean to steal what is rightfully ours."
"Men say we shall march on Highgarden soon to put the Fat Flower to the sword!" Young Willem found his tongue and his courage. No doubt imagining the rash acts of boys. Not that they would see combat. Kevans boys should see it though this conflict without a single drop of blood being spilled.
Tywin chuckled, amused. My misdirection has worked. Less chance for the Tyrell spies to learn until they were well on the march.
Both of the boys exchanged nervous glances at his amusement. Willem grumbled."I've heard knights call this war the War for Lady Margaery's Ear! It's unfair Lord Tywin! Our father was murdered by poison and all they talk about is her dumb ear."
"Is that what they are calling it?" Tywin asked. "Don't concern yourself over it. The opinions of sheep mean little." When the war was done, he would see the singers write another epic over his triumph against the Tyrells. A catchy tune to whistle while he slept, as he did the Rains of Castamere.
"Well, you'll drown them in their halls!" Willem said. "they deserve it for killing father with poison! They are cowards and cravens!" He said with great heat.
"I apologize, Lord Tywin, for my brother's tone." Martyn said quickly. "Fathers death has upset him greatly.
Tywin raised a slender brow. "Oh, you don't think I should drown them in their halls?" He poised the question and, to his credit, he didn't squirm like before. Martyn held some of Kevans resolve about him. His stalwart nature that made him a valuable member of House Lannister. It was good to see that trait passed onto one of his sons.
"I don't think it's possible for us to drown them in their halls. Both are Great Houses and without the support of the Crown…" He gulped. "They would put us to the sword if we did so."
"They deserve it. All of them are guilty." Willem replied.
"They deserve it, but it would not be wise to do so." Martyn answered.
Tywin gave a single nod and finished his meal in silence. He would be my choice to send to the Eyrie. His grandson needed Lannister influence around him. Good sobering Lannister influence. Both of his nephews were silent when he lifted his head up. "You may go." He dismissed. "Make sure they groom my horse before you head off to bed."
The next morning, before dawn broke, they departed Goldengrove.
Ser Garlan the Gallant
"To the dirt, we return!" The crowd of well-wishers shouted. "To the dirt we return!" Dozens of throats repeated the words as the dirt fell over the coffin. Mother wept into his chest as he watched father collapse on the ground, weeping for his boy. "To the dirt we return." Garlan joined his voice with the crowd. He bent down to his knees and grabbed a handful of dirt. "Goodbye Loras."
Garlan walked past the rosebush they planted over his corpse. It had come in nicely. It seemed brighter than the others, but mayhaps it was wishful thinking on his part as the song birds chirped a sweet tune. It reminded him of the songbird Loras nursed back to health. The funeral had been weeks ago, and they had suffered even more since then. Oh Margaery. He should have been there to protect her. To protect Loras. Now one was dead and the other maimed. Outside the walls of Highgarden, one hundred thousand banners had assembled answering the call of his Lord Father: Tarlys, Fossoways, Redwynes, Hightowers, Cuys among others. They brought with them not only knights and men of arms, but grievances as well.
They bicker away while the Reach burns under Tywins mad dogs.
Garlan had seen first hand overseeing the handing out of supplies to the small folk seeking the protection of Highgarden. Hungry mouths and weary eyes spoke the truth.
Politics. Garlan thought with distaste. It always got in the way of doing what was right. If he had it his way, they would have already marched, but as Willas always told him, it was a complicated series of alliances they had in place. It would take great care selecting who lead what section of the host and keeping balance and cohesion amongst their banners. Marriages and betrothals were being bartered. It was why Willas was always the better man to be Heir of Highgarden. Mainly, it was father whom refused their entreaties to accede command of the main host to Lord Tarly. He wishes to see Lord Tywin dead by his own hands.
He sat down, staining his white breaches with grass as he smiled. "You are missed, brother." He said the dull ache in his chest had yet to fade. The thoughts of war faded from his mind as he talked to Loras to keep him company. "Everyone visits you. I've even spotted grandmother even if she pretends to only be yelling at the gnats" Willas came leaning on his golden cane with a ghost of a smile. Mother came every day, rain or shine. Father never visited, but he had been consumed with a deep grief. The death of his favorite child had driven him to great despair. It bothered none of them that Loras was the favorite. All of them adored him.
I only wish you had chosen a better man than Renly.
Garlan knew when a man held false chivalry in his heart. It never seemed to him that Loras meant as much to Lord Renly as he did to Loras. The heart is a cruel instrument. He was his first great love and only great one. Now we are brothers by law. Whatever misgivings he held towards the man, the laws of the land united them. For the sake of House Tyrell, he swallowed his disdain. "Father misses you Loras. One day he'll wake up to the fact." And on that day, he would support him. The duty of second sons was supporting their families.
"I thought I might find you here." His beloved wife joined him on the grass.
A dainty woman his Leonette and love had grown between them through careful effort on both of their parts. The most beautiful things require effort. "How do you fare, love?"
"I worry for my husband and our family, but this is not the reason I'm ruining my dress." Her soothing voice said, as beautiful as the harp she played. "Your brother, Willas, sent me to find you. He needs to see you in his library."
Garlan kissed the back of her hand. "Well, I shouldn't keep him waiting then." He wished to ask her to stay with Loras for a moment, but it sounded foolish to him.
"Yes, Garlan, I'll stay with him." She smiled.
His wife knew him very well, and it made him happy.
Willas's personal library could give the one in Oldtown a run for its money. Every wall was stuffed with spiraling bookcases filled until they were bursting at the seams with tomes as large as his head. The tallest shelves required a ladder to reach, and Willas had climbed to the highest rung. The ladder shuddered and Willas almost lost his balance, arms flailing. Garlan stabilized the base, frowning. "Ever gallant brother! Saving me from another crippling wound."
Garlan raised a brow. "I don't think now is the time for reading, Willas." He said.
"I must disagree with you! Absolutely, now is the best time to read!" He grasped him on the shoulder. "We have many good books on the Westernlands. Old invasion routes from the days of the Gardener Kings."
"And the Gardner Kings are gone, Willas."
"They are and if we aren't too careful, we may join them!" He replied cheerfully.
"But I didn't summon everyone to speak of dusty old books."
Garlan was beyond lost as he gazed around the empty room. "No one is here, or am I the first to arrive?"
Willas smiled and chuckled as if at some jape he wouldn't share with him. "Are we?" He said with good humor. "I don't think we are ever truly alone." And pulled a book from the shelf unleashing a rumbling sound as the bookcase opened, revealing a spiraling staircase into the darkened earth. Garlan jumped back. "Don't lose your courage now, Garlan. Don't worry, there are no bats."
"Why would there be bats?" Garlan asked, incredulous, gawking at the hole in the bookcase.
"I heard a song about a Dark Knight who lived in a cave of bats or mayhaps I read it somewhere. I can't recall." Willas's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Now help me down and watch your step."
His brother had never led him astray, saving him from a life of mockery by striking first with his monicker. He knew my worries and acted on my behalf. Garlan would follow him even into the darkened earth itself. A few torches illuminated the staircase as Willas explained how grandmother had this room constructed to hold secret meetings of the highest order. He had discovered the room after noting one book was out of place on the shelves. "On that day, grandmother invited me into her councils." Willas looked apologetic. "I've wished to tell you of this place, but now is not the time to discuss roads not taken."
"Why are we here, Willas?"
A sad look crossed his brother's face. "Treason Garlan." The way he said it sent a shiver down his spine as the amusement left Willas's eyes and a rare grave look replaced it. Garlan swallowed and nodded dutifully as they finished their descent.
They found Grandmother Olenna waiting for them along with mother. Even mother knew of this place before him? Garlan tensed. Do they think that poorly of me?
His brother read him like an open book. "You are a good man, brother. I wish to spare you the decisions that are made in this dark room. It would gnaw at you, and I shall not make you suffer."
"Tell my noble grandson to get over it." Grandmother chided with a voice as sharp as a whip.
Mother kissed him on the cheek. "Don't blame your brother, dear. It was our choice."
Garlan nodded. "I understand, but why involve me now?"
Mother looked away, and Willas couldn't hold his gaze. "Oh, enough with it." Grandmother said bluntly. "Treason my boy. You have the loyalty of the house guards. We need your cooperation."
"And what need do you have for the household guard?" Garlan replied, liking little the looks he received from his family.
"Father, Is unwell." Willas said. "And in this dark hour must be removed from the board." His voice was far too detached.
It had him pacing like a cat, shaking his head. "Father is the Lord of Highgarden!" His voice was raised. "He requires our support amid his sorrow, not a dagger to the back."
Mother gazed with sympathy. "I love Mace dearly. He's given me four beautiful children I love and adore, but he is unwell, my boy. We simply are going to keep him under house arrest, while Willas takes over as acting lord. We've secured the support of Maester Gormon and Septon Tendred and we only require your approval." He could make things difficult for them.
"Father merely needs more time." Garlan pleaded, searching for any allies among them and found nothing. How could they think of doing this? It was madness, and it was wrong to plot against him in this dark room. They were right. I never should have been invited.
"Time is not something we have the luxury of." Willas said. "Fathers quarrel with Lord Tarly threatens the war effort. He is erratic. A raging storm of emotion. One moment he is kind and jovial, and the next raging mad and the moment after, then he's weeping like a child. Loras death and Margaery's wounds have hit us all hard, but father- Did you know he called me Loras the other day? He thought me him and didn't recognize when I corrected him. His mind is fragile, Garlan. He can't lead us in days of war."
"Mace is completely broken." Grandmother said simply. "And Gods know I love my dolt of a son, but he is incapable of his office. When a horse breaks its leg you put it to pasture. "
Garlan winced and sat down, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to curse all of them as he nodded his head. "Gods help us."
Ser Daven Lannister
The moans echoed across the room, his hand pulling back a fist full of long red hair back as he claimed a pleasure men were owed. He thrusted deep into her soft body, lost in blissful pleasure as she shuddered underneath him. Her moans were like music to his ears. Encouraging him to go faster. Harder. Daven found his release and pulled out of her and rolled over, lying on the soft cushions. "Tired milord?" She said, giggling as she rolled a leg over him. Eleyna was beautiful, even for a whore with large tits and soft pale legs without blemish. There were two gifts the Gods gave men. Fighting and fucking.
And Daven, as a Lannister, could do both. "Tired? Ha!" And trapped her underneath his body and took his rights with her again and again until he was actually out of breath. Now I'm tired. He whispered those words as he nibbled against her ear.
"Oh, I'll certainly feel it in the morning, milord." A hint of guilt crossed him at her bruised body. I was too rough with her. Daven thought. He would speak with Ameri, the owner of this establishment, and make sure she was well rested for the next couple of days. Though he gave a lazy grin in reply.
"That's right, and you enjoyed every moment, whore." Eleyna moaned when he slapped her ass as her hands wrapped around his neck. She begged him to hit her again.
"Yes!" She squealed."Harder! My Golden Lion harder!" He made her ass red.
Suddenly, he didn't feel as tired as he thought and fucked her again. It was one perk of being the head Lannister at the Rock. The finest whores to fuck at night after a long day of overseeing the host forming underneath the walls. In a few days he would have to march with ten thousand young boys and sell swords to reinforce Ser Lyle as Lord Tywin bade him when he gave him command. A slight against my father. It should have been him, but he did as bid despite the shame. He vowed before all the men and the gods themselves, he would not cut his hair until they had avenged Ser Kevan. I was drunk off my arse when I said that. But he would keep to his oath.
"Will you be marching soon, milord? It's all everyone speaks off?" She asked with a voice as sweet as honey while she cuddled against him.
"I like you, lass. I may even return to you a second time, but I will say nothing about matters of war."
Eleyna pouted her lips. "But we had such a lovely time! Do you think me untrustworthy?"
"Whores are untrustworthy." Daven laughed. "Whores gossip and everyone with an ear would know by dawn." Whores spread rumors like wildfire through camps of men. I love fucking them, but I'm not a limp noodle green boy. And he had a job to do in winning this war for House Lannister.
Eleyna gave a loud huff before giggling . "Maybe you should punish me some more? For trying to wrestle secrets from such a powerful man."
Daven was certainly tempted. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He gripped her chin roughly. She bent over for him, exposing her soft ass reddened from their lovemaking. Eleyna made the soft little whimpers that drove him mad. He would have disciplined her some more, but he saw his red faced squire standing at the door. His blush extended past his collar, with his eyes refusing to meet his gaze. "The Tyrells better be at the gates, boy! Or you are going to be in a world of hurt!"
"Oh, is this your squire?" Eleyna shot him a warm smile. "He's very pretty. I think his hair is nicer than my own." The boy was slender as a reed with the characteristic Lannister gold hair. His frame was thin, and he cried in the training yard when he knocked him down. But he was the Heir of Lannisport and was betrothed to his sister Myrielle. The Lannisters of Lannisport were rich and always craved prestigious matches with more established Lannister branches. Myrielle was besotted with him. He sang songs to her and took her on walks in the garden. She was going to rule over him.
"My lord," His eyes refused to leave the ground. "Your father wishes to speak with you."
Daven nodded and launched himself from the bed and put on his breaches. "Ever fuck a girl, Jason?" He asked and when he received only silence, he snorted. "It's your lucky day than squire. You'll be reddening your blade this night."
"I'm betrothed to your sister!" He protested weakly.
"And she'll thank me when you know where to stick it!" Daven laughed and slapped him on the back. He shuddered from the blow. My sisters have better frames than him. "No boy should meet the gods without making a man of himself first."
Eleyna approached him with a predatorial glint in her eyes. "Don't be shy, milord." Grabbing the boy's hand.
He grabbed her wrist. "Not you woman. You would eat him alive. He's not man enough for you. Get him a sweet girl."
"But his hair is so nice." She pouted her lips. "I can be sweet."
"Eleyna."
"Fine." She gave a loud huff and gave him one last kiss before leaving with a memorizing sway of her hips. Oh, I'll be back for a second time.
Jason was as white as a ghost. "My lord Myrielle I love her I-"
"Don't worry." He wrapped his arms around him. "It'll be a secret amongst brothers." He ruffled his hair. "Trust me, my sister won't wish Baelor the Blessed to come to her bed, but Jason."
"My lord?"
"You break her heart. I'll geld you. Understand, boy?"
Jason nodded, shaking.
It was good being the older protective brother. I get to scare the ever living shit out of my future brother-in-law. He would have to thank father one day for making the lad his squire. Nothing was more enjoyable than fucking with your squire. Sending them on impossible scavenger hunts. Making them shine his spotless armor and seeing him scared shitless. Daven left Jason in the hands of the whores as he departed the pleasure house, jumped on his horse and rode back to the castle. The air was thick with an uneasy tension. The calm before the storm. Even asleep, the city seemed to know that battle awaited its sons. I'll try to see most of these buggars come home to their families.
Daven found father with Maester Embrose at his side. "News from Ser Lyle." Father handed him the parchment, still baring the crimson red of house Lannister. "He marches and requires us to join up with his host."
He brushed his hair back. "The boys aren't ready." He said, shaking his head. They would be sending these green boys to the slaughter. Even with the three thousand sell swords among them. It would simple be marching them to meet the Stranger. "I need more time, father."
Stafford chuckled. "I know, my boy, but we must march all the same." He sighed. "These are orders we can't refuse." Guilt gnawed at his heart for his fathers supportive gaze and firm grasp.
"This should be your command." Daven said through clenched teeth. Not caring that Lord Tywins creature stood beside them. Lord Tywin slighted him by placing him in a subordinate role. A boy's father should never have to serve underneath him. It was not right to afflict it upon a good and loyal man.
"Nay, my brother-in-law chose wisely." Father smiled. "You are a better soldier than I have ever been. I'm very proud." He grasped him by the shoulder and he almost wept.
I'm no girl, though.
Maester Embrose's soft voice echoed. "Who shall you leave in command of the Rock Ser Daven?"
He mastered his feelings and turned to the maester. "My father. I leave him in command." When he protested, he said. "No man is better than you in keeping supply lines flowing, and we are going to need those supplies." Ser Lyle and his men had savaged the Reach. It would be difficult for them to forage off the land. They would be depended upon supplies from the Westerlands to keep them fed along the Oceanroad. He left him a modest garrison capable of holding the walls and little else. He needed every sword for this campaign. Father gave his advice on who to pick to lead the van.
I'm leading ten thousand men to their deaths.
But by the Warrior himself, they would take twenty thousand Reach boys with them. Our cause is just. Ser Kevan was a good man and didn't deserve his grizzly end. And they would kill those roses who dared to pull the lions tail. The men of the Reach will weep over the fact they followed the Tyrells of Highgarden. Daven was determined to make them weep over the losses of their sons and brothers, not the fathers of the Westerlands.
The next day, they had breakfast as a family. The last one they would have. Father stood at the head of the table, eating a plate of eggs and sausages. Mother sat to his right, her eye red with tears from her days spent at the sept. "I shall pray for you every day and night, my son." She said, fighting back the tears. Myrielle's eyes were similar, but it did not trouble Cerenna at all. She kept a bright smile on her face.
"Don't pray for me, mother." Daven rubbed his chin with a napkin. "Pray for those poor Reach boys, we shall leave in the dirt. They don't stand a chance against me!" He winked.
"A mother worries, dear."
"Don't bother the lad." Father said. "Our son is strong. Lord Tywin recognizes such strength. He shall bring great honor to our family." Silverware pressed against plates as they ate in some silence until his sister shove her plate and crossed her arms furiously.
Myrielle gasped. "Why must there be such death? Is not peace a better thing?"
Daven laughed. "Worried over that pretty boy I see." He snorted. "We shall get peace once we have the Fat Flower in chains."
"And how long will that be?"
It was such a girlish thing to be worried over. The war would go on as long as both sides wanted to keep fighting and knowing Lord Tywin, it would be to the bitter end for them. Daven shrugged. "Several months. Years. I don't know, little sister." It was the wrong thing, and she erupted in tears and bolted from the table. Mother shot a disappointed look as she begged fathers leave to tend to their girl. He gave it with a wave of his hand. What did he do? She should get over it.
"Will you bring me back some souvenirs!" Cerenna's eyes became ungodly large. How she managed it was beyond him? It made him grin, though. If only Myrielle could be so cheerful. She was much better before she bled and now all she thought of was pretty little Jason.
"And what would you want, sweet sister?"
"Anything you get me I'll cherish!" she giggled and his heart melted.
"Stop troubling your brother." Father barked out gruffly.
Daven winked, and they shared a smile. He would find some flower or maybe some jewels from a castle they sack. A necklace would look pretty on her neck. When they were done eating, he went to Myrielle's room. It would not be well to leave on such poor terms between them. Mother was brushing her hair, trying to soothe her. "Daven-"
"It's okay mother, I got this." He sat at the end of the bed. His sister still sobbed into the pillows.
"I hate you." She mumbled. "I hate this war."
Daven chuckled. "I can see that." And sighed. "If you are worried about the lad. He'll be fine. I won't let any harm befall him. I promise and you know I always keep my word." It would be a tough promise to keep. The lad was weak. Myrielle showed more spine than he, but he could never deny his sisters anything.
She lifted her face from the pillows and wiped away her tears with her sleeves. "I care for you, too." And flung her arms around his neck. "I don't want either of you to die!" He held her as she wept foolish tears. I will not die. He thought. Daven knew he would see his family again. They would laugh about this one day, but for now, he just soothed her.
Mace
It was Tarly's fault.
Always jealous of me. "He's always jealous of my victory over the Demon of the Trident." Mace whispered to the shadows. "All of them are jealous."
If Loras was here, he would agree with him. My boy. My perfect boy. The Knight of Flowers.
Mace wished to weep. He couldn't help him when the monster squashed his darling boy. I could only watch from the stands his screams one of thousands.
He giggled. I'll make the Old Lion watch as I destroy his legacy. Tywin Lannister was an uncivilized man, unbefitting normal rules of conduct. He should be treated like the animal he was and you hunt rabid beasts. Randyll wanted all the glory. All of his lords wanted the glory of bagging the great Tywin Lannister. I shall have his hide. Not any of them. He had told them as much during their war councils. But Lions are crafty and he had to take time to set his trap. A hunter had to be patient. Why didn't they see that? Tarly was the reason with him poisoning his lords against him. Even his own son and heir. Willas stood against him now. Tarly didn't have the mentality of a true soldier like himself. A hunter of men.
Suddenly, he was crying, and he didn't know the reason. "My roses pruned before their time. Pruned before their time. Golden roses. Blue roses. Pruned! Pruned! By the cruel gardener above." Why did they harm my children? Why? Time passed him by as someone knocked on the door. Mace stood up from the floor. Why was he lying on the carpet? He didn't know why, but before he could dwell on it he saw him. It was Loras and his heart leaped for joy. He entered with a dozen guards behind him. My boy has returned to me. I never should have doubted him. Slender and graceful with a calm smile. He didn't care he loved his own sex. Loras was his darling son, bold and brilliant as the sun. A brute like Ser Gregor couldn't defeat his son.
"Loras! My boy!"
Loras stiffened as he embraced him. "Whats the matter, son?"
"Father it's me Garlan."
Mace squinted and Loras vanished like a beautiful dream. It was a wonderful dream. "Oh, so it is." Was he supposed to be doing something? "Am I late for dinner with you and your beautiful wife?" Things seemed to slip his mind easily. "I'm sorry for being late."
"It's midday, father."
He smiled at Maester Golmon, who had joined them. "Why is everyone here?" It was like a little party in his solar. He loved throwing parties. Big parties with a lot of food and pleasant music like the harp. His daughter played the harp beautifully. Garlan seemed saddened, and that pained his heart. He loved his son. "My boy, what's the matter? No troubles with your wife, I hope?"
Maester Golmon, the stout man, passed him a cup. "Drink my lord."
"Whats the reason?" He asked, puzzled.
"Just drink, my lord." He brought it to his lips, and it gave him pause as everyone looked at him and shoved it back.
"You first." Mace said.
The maester betrayed himself with his eyes. "Ha!" and smacked him to the ground with a powerful blow. "Seize the villain! An agent of Lord Tywin! He means to poison me!" Garlan and his guardsman did nothing of the sort and instead restrained him. It was bewildering "Treachery! My flesh and blood!" He raged. How can you betray me too, Garlan?
"Don't resist, father. Please." Garlan pleaded.
They opened his mouth and shoved golden liquid down as soft as honey. His limbs felt lax as Garlan caught him. "Easy, father. It's going to be alright I swear it."
"Where is Loras? Where is Margaery? Where are my children?"
And his vision darkened, and he knew no more.
Myrcella
She folded.
Jasper grinned like a fool at his victory as he threw down his better hand.
Myrcella had discovered she hated games of cards and dice. It required no skill or strategy, just blind luck, and Jasper was terribly lucky. He won three games for every game she bested him. It was irksome, but she still smiled, as Jasper was really trying to lighten her mood as they remained trapped on this accursed boat. The Starks traveled on the sister ship the Mermaid along with her distant kin Rosamund, who still attended to her. Jasper wouldn't have me travel on any other boat. He told every jape he could think of to make her laugh. One joke about the lord and his horse had her bursting into tears. Still, it didn't help her forget completely. Her mind often wandered as the shadow had pierced her heart and refused to be driven away despite Jaspers gallant attempts to lift her spirits. Darkness sullied her in her dreams.
"Shall we go again?" Jasper offered.
"I think I wish to retire for the evening."
Jasper's hand shot out and grabbed her own. "I shall escort you then!" And offered a handsome smile that made her knees wobble lightly. "And when we arrive, I shall look under your bed for this foul monster that plagues you and I shall slay him with a single swift of my sword!" He winked.
"Excuse me?"
He paused awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish look. "I know you've been having nightmares, princess." Jasper confessed. It made her cheeks redden with embarrassment. "It sounded better in my head, but I wish to provide you comfort in your days of sorrow." It was sweet of him, but she was mortified that he knew about her nightmares. Her tongue refused to obey her as he continued. " I don't wish you to think I've abandoned you. I know how cruel that can be."
She found her voice as she squeezed his hand back. "Do you suffer nightmares, Jasper?"
Jasper blinked in surprise at her question. "Lords don't have-" His puffed up chest deflated along with his haughty voice. "I do." And sat back down with some shame. "I wish to say it gets better over time, but I'm uncertain if that's true." Conflict and doubt ruled over him as he refused to meet her gaze. It made it easier for her to crawl on top of him despite his protests and rest her head over his heart. The position was comfortable, hearing it beat fiercely in his chest. I must make him nervous. But if he felt her heart, it would be a similar sound.
"Tell me about one of your nightmares."
"Would it help you, princess?"
"Mhm." Myrcella replied, feeling content when he wrapped his arms around her. For a long moment, he was quiet, just rubbing her back as he tensed with every caress. "You don't have to, Jasper, if don't wish to."
"No!" Jasper blurted out. "If it'll help you, I must! I'm just trying to figure out the words." He sighed, trying to master his shaking hands. "I have nightmares of my mother dropping my brother through the moondoor. I'm never quick enough." He said in a painful gasp as she rubbed his chest. Myrcella wondered why he had nightmares about that? What cause did his own mother give him? He never spoke of her. "In life, I caught my brother, but never in my nightmares. He always falls screaming for me to save him. I don't save him…" His voice became choked with emotion. She lifted her head up and saw the honesty in his blue eyes and realized it was no lie. Mother had never tried to kill any of us. No wonder why Jasper was so guarded!
She flung her arms around his neck, practically strangling him in a tight embrace. "Your mother tried to kill your brother! By the Gods, that's terrible, you poor thing!" And showered him with light kisses on his cheeks and neck as he reddened by the attention.
"Please Myrcella, you shouldn't. I didn't behave honorably that night."
Myrcella sighed, annoyed. "You put too high of a standard on yourself. She tried to kill your brother!" If mother had ever tried to kill Tommen, it would have been the last thing she ever did. But Jasper didn't see things that way. He was wedded to his honor. His world was black and white. A simple world where judgement was swift and easy. It was a cloak he wore every day. Any act of dishonor even justified disgusted him. No one is harsher on Jasper than himself.
"I almost killed her, and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. How depraved is that? My hand around her throat, judging her for her crimes. I wanted to toss her out the moondoor as she did my brother." He whispered. "My mother. I would have dammed myself forever and stained the line of Arryn." Jasper said with growing disgust. "Nothing is more wretched than a kinslayer." She saw no signs of tears in his eyes, they must have already been spilled in private. Most boys didn't cry in public. It made them look weak, and Jasper always tried to be strong and confident, as if he were as wise as the Late Lord Jon Arryn and not the young youth he was.
How could he think himself wicked? He was just angry about his little sickly brother.
Myrcella tilted up his chin. "You named my mother a villain. I think I should name your mother one as well. Tell me about her." And with only a small sigh, he told her things that made hatred take root in her heart like some nefarious weed. Lysa Arryn, the pudgy wife of Lord Jon Arryn, never inspired much feeling, but now her heart burned with anger at the mere image of that cow. She told Jasper terrible things that no son should ever hear. It hurt him deeply and profoundly. Our mothers afflict wounds on us that give us nightmares. How can mothers be so cruel to their own children? It seemed she and Jasper had one thing in common: poor mothers.
"I hope I never meet your mother." Myrcella said. "I may say unkind things."
Jasper chuckled. "Oh, I would like to see that. It would be quite the duel. My sweet betrothed versus my depraved mother. I doubt even the fight on the Trident could compare." He japed.
She giggled. "Who do you think would win?"
"Oh, you without a doubt, but you won't have to. My mother is my responsibility and I've already placed her where she can cause no further harm." Jasper said with the quiet nobility of an Arryn. It made her wish to weep at how much responsibility he placed on his shoulders. One boy shouldn't have to feel this sorrow duty inspired, and she wanted to challenge him on it to shatter the anguish he afflicted on himself, but she lost her courage. Being held in his arms was a sweet feeling, and she didn't wish to dash it with an argument. She stroked his jaw with a single finger and gazed at him with a dreamy expression. He's too handsome. And licked her lips. Jasper got the hint after a moment her betrothed was a slow learner and kissed her until she felt as light as a feather. If he wished to take her, Myrcella doubted she would protest. Though she knew it was a false dream, Jasper was wedded to his honor and wouldn't make her his until their wedding night. It disappointed her, but she wouldn't have it any other way. As they pulled away from each other, he whispered her name and cusped her cheeks. "I love you." He said. "Even if I don't know where this ends. This is the sweetest dream I've ever felt. I hope I never wake."
Myrcella giggled and swooned into his chest. "I love you too Jasper." He melted against her like a pile of summer snow at her declarations of love. "I hope I shall always make you so happy."
He held her for some time and her eyes grew heavy, and she yawned. Jasper chuckled. And lifted her up with her hands wrapped around his neck while he held her back and upper legs like she was a fair maiden he rescued from a tower. "I think I best take you back to your quarters." She squealed with delight at the position. "Will you sleep well this night?"
"Only if you check under my bed for monsters." She teased.
Jasper sighed. "Your never going to let me forget that, will you?"
Myrcella shook her head giggling as he scowled.
Authors Note: Yes, I did add a little Batman Easter Egg I recently just rewatched Batman Begins and I just felt suave eccentric Willas would have a secret room behind a bookcase. I've always felt Batman would fit in very well in the world of ASOIAF. A crazy knight dresses like a bat. Next up, we should be heading off to the Vale for the start of the Vale/Wedding Arc. I say we should cause I might make a stop in KL instead, but I haven't decided. As always I appreciate reviews/comments!
Freedmon: Well, I'd say the big reason Jasper doesn't have guy friends is he has a big heart. I'll go more into it, but pretty much he finds it hard enough to send his guys to die he doesn't know he can ask his friends to go die for him. It hurts less to keep his distance. Now, he tried with Robb cause they are of equal status Jasper knows he can't order him to fight and die for him. I do think though that the upcoming war will change things. He'll make friends on the field of battle as Myrcella gently nudges him along the right path. I think his relationships with the Starks will continute to develop, but pretty much at this point he trusts two people in the world. Myrcella and Brynden. That'll likely change, but thats how it is at the moment.
Guest: Damn, that proably would have been better! I should have thought of that! But I wanted to get the angst out cause I think too much angst can be detrimental.
Guest: I think he'll get more likeable overtime.(I hope anyway) I have this time skip after the war planned and I think he'll become a more mellow and balanced guy by the end. Its the heros journey watching Jasper become the Lord of the Eyrie he needs to be.
Amok: No problem! Glad you enjoy!
Logaron: Yep, why write fanfics and not change the storyline? Have fun with it! Tell new stories with the characters.
Valkroin512: No idea what that means! But I hoped you enjoyed too!