Jaime
"Ser Green Eyes!"
"Ser Green Eyes!"
"Ser Green Eyes!"
The crowd of sycophants and sadists was rather cheerful this evening, Jaime mused as the gates creaked open and he wandered onto the sandy field. The heat was scorching as the sweat poured down his shaved head. His skin burned red under the sun, but Jaime offered a flashy smile that sent the crowd roaring. Another lovely day in the fighting Pitts of Meereen. He scanned over the two men standing opposed to him. Big and bulky with bronze skin, one carried a trident. Neat. That's new. Another wielded a war hammer. The man reminded him of Robert. I'll kill him slow. You should have chosen a different weapon ser. "I'm to fight two men?" Jaime mocked. "Is that not unfair?"
A whip cracked above him.
"Well, I suppose that answers that."
The trident fellow smirked. "I'm going to fuck your corpse when I'm done with you."
"With what?" Jaime asked. "I don't think I see much down there." He reddened. "Embarrassing I'm sure. Don't worry, it won't matter for much longer." A simple sword of castle steel was handed to him and the horns sounded the start of the dance. A very short dance, to be sure. The trident fellow smirked with his flashy moves until Jaime cut his throat open. It seemed to fade away after that. The bronze Robert was fine. He had a weary look in his eyes and took a moment longer than his friend to pin down, but he left him with his entrails spilling out on the sandy ground in short order. Then he cut off his head for good measure. Took two swings and he lifted it up by his black curls and the crowd acted as if he had given them the best fucking of their lives.
How dull.
Every fight was becoming terribly dull. You would think this should have been the most thrilling experiences of his life and every day as sweet as wine, his skills constantly tested, but it was becoming a chore. It was quite a puzzle that he was doing what he loved most in the world(Second, Cersei was his first love), but it was becoming a chore. Tyrion would have appreciated such a musing. His brother loved such philosophical notions.
His Master, the esteemed Renshan, was enjoying some wine out of a golden goblet surrounded by other important men. He tossed the head to the ground; it rolled away. Jaime kicked the trident up and tossed it at the silky bastard's platter, smirking as he did so. It struck home, and the crowd became as silent as Ilyn Payne. "What?" His smile turned lazy. "the man shouldn't eat so much meat. It's bad for his health." And gave a light bow. The crack of the whips was as painful as Lord Tywins lectures, but the crowd roared with approval and the whipping stopped.
"Ser Green Eyes!"
"Ser Green Eyes!"
"Ser Green Eyes!"
And he enjoyed that as he spat blood on the dirt. It was a sweet sound, and he rose like a lion after a hunt with a bloodied smile.
The water washed over him as the slaves bathed him. Scrubbing off blood and dirt. "Don't forget to get there." He gestured to under his arms. They jumped like little mice. Smart. Ropes bound his hands, but even a bound lion was never tamed, and they scurried away. His lord father taught him that. He taught him other things, but they went out the other ear. Though they were in no danger, strangling a slave wouldn't bring him any closer to Cersei. My sweet sister. He longed to feel her lips on his own and to hear her satisfied whimpers as he dragged her underneath him and made her his. Nails would pierce his back as she clawed at him when they made love. It made him hard with desire in the bath.
"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS MY CHAMPION!" Master Renshan said, accompanied by his guard and jumpy scribe. He made a wise choice in not getting too close, and an even wiser choice by having his guard toss his body on the ground before him. Unfortunately for him, he made an idiotic choice in having them be armed. He lunged for the spear with the agility of a cat. His fingers touched the smooth wood and the dance was on, but the men didn't like the dance one bit.
Then they gave him a beating of a lifetime.
"Such fire!" Renshan laughed. "I like you Westerosi. I like you. You have the fire of a true champion." He gave a bellowing laugh. "And you are making me Renshan of the Masterly House of Balazar rich!"
Jaime suppressed a groan and smirked. "I aim to please."
Renshan looked at his still half hard cock. "I think I know why you've been acting so unruly. You need a bitch, don't you? Hizdar, why hasn't this man been given a woman?" The squinty scribe jumped at the sound of his masters voice.
"I tried." He stammered. "He won't lay with any of them." Annoyance flashed in Master Renshans eyes, and his scribe flinched. Master Renshan never enjoyed hearing bad news. He laughed. "Tis funny. Ah, knightly love, is it? That's what you Andals practice. That's funny. It's funny, isn't it?" He asked his scribe, whose laughter joined him with growing confidence. Jaime saw the shift in the man's eyes and wasn't surprised when he backhanded Hizdar to the carpet.
"But you westerosi need to fuck a woman. A man needs to pleasure himself."
Jaime wanted Cersei. I shall only be with her.
"What if we found him an Andal Master Renshan." Hizdar suggested, slowly rising from the ground.
A moment passed, and Renshan snapped his fingers. "Brilliance has struck me once more! We need to get him an Andal bitch, Hizdar! See it done."
"Only if she has golden hair and green eyes." Jaime said.
Master Renshan's eyes widened lightly as he laughed. "Such boldness! You are lucky you are my favorite. See it done." And the simpering scribe pledged to see it done. Jaime knew there was no way some golden hair and green eye beauty lived in the city of Meereen. They would have to import one from the Seven Kingdoms, and by the time she arrived, Jaime would be long gone to see his sweet sister. They could make another Joffrey and this time he would turn out right. If Cersei were here with him, it would be perfect. I fight every day and I would lie with her every night. What a dream that would be! Jaime had made several escape attempts, and only got beyond the pits once.
I just need one chance and I shall be free.
If he had a sword, he could kill any man. Jaime was a golden god with swords. Tyrion had his wits. Cersei, her beauty, and Jaime, well he had the looks and the brawn. An idea would come to him eventually and when it did, he would make an escape, his father would enshrine into song.
Jaime was lying down in his cage, dreaming of Cersei when she walked through the bars. They separated the cage from the rest of the lot, as Master Renshan considered Jaime a prize worthy of protecting. A soft bed of straw with some sheets. It was tolerable. If he cooperated. Renshan promised him a beautiful apartment with the softest silk. Lions don't listen to the wishes of lesser men. Cersei looked as if she was no older than a girl of seventeen. Her hair was shorter, and she seemed a tad plain, but she glowed and her eyes burned a fiery green. His eyes drifted over her chest and around her narrow waist. Jaime hardened at the phantom. "Enjoy Andal." The dumb guard's voice spilled a bucket of water over his arousal. He gawked in disbelief. Tis not Cersei, but she was certainly a Lannister.
Golden hair and green eyes, and she had Cersei's nose and chin. Her hands shook as she undressed. A Lannister would never admit such weakness. "Do I please you Ser Green Eyes?" She whispered.
Jaime raised his brow. "You don't know who I am?"
"You are Ser Green Eyes, the Andal killer from the West, unbeatable, and unkillable with wicked green eyes that mock men and gods. A beast that haunts the dreams of children." Her eyes refused to leave the floor.
He laughed. "All true." He loved such notoriety. "Now look me in the eyes, girl." Jaime had never seen her before. He came from a large family and it was hard to keep track of all his relations, but he couldn't place the face. And it baffled that she was in Meereen. Was her ship seized by pirates? But she would be worth more to ransom than some pleasure slave halfway across the world. Yet, the way she carried herself was hardly Lannister like. She looked up, and her eyes widened.
"You." She swallowed. "Look like myself."
Jaime didn't answer her and walked over, towering over the girl. She quivered and covered her breasts with her hands. "Modest, aren't we for a whore?"
"I worked in the kitchen." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please be gentle." The girl was lucky he wasn't truly a wicked man. Such a doe act would get her nowhere with such a man.
"Who was your father?" Jaime asked casually.
"What-" She stammered.
"Who sired you?" Jaime asked as he returned to the bed of straw and relaxed. She stood by the bars of the cage, frozen like a statue of stone, as she gawked at him.
The girl panted. "I never knew my father. Tis just my mother and my twin brother." That last little bit had him leaning up, intrigued. Jaime wondered if she was Uncle Gerions. He wandered across the Narrow Sea looking for Brightroar. Maybe he stopped in Meereen chasing down some lead? He always liked Uncle Gerion and his baseborn child, Joy Hill, was a sweet girl. I suppose she isn't an only child any longer. It was the only that made a lick of sense.
"So far away, little girl. Come closer, I won't bite." Jaime said. "I'm a rather tame man with little girls." He smirked at how she shivered. It was quite fun to mess with her.
She ventured to him meekly. Hands shaking. "Why do you care about my father?"
"Just making conversation."
Jaime noted the fire in her eyes that reminded him of Cersei. "It's odd to do that when you no doubt wish one thing." She said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You know who he is."
"Interesting theory." Jaime rubbed his chin in mock ponderance. "Now sit on my lap."
"I wish to know." She didn't move a muscle, and showed some courage. Oh, I like you. Got some lion in you after all.
"But I wasn't asking." Jaime grabbed her quick as a cat as she shrieked in terror before stilling as he rolled her underneath him. "Shh," He whispered. "We need to sell it, girl." He silenced her with a finger to her lip. "Make happy little sounds and no one shall be the wiser."
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
Jaime brushed some of her hair to the side. "I have a woman I love, and you aren't her." And this Renshan wouldn't stop until he felt he was being satisfied with a woman. If he spurned him again, he would beat him like some mongrel and he rather enjoyed not being beaten. "And maybe I know your father. Wouldn't you like to know?" He smirked. Though Jaime decided he was going to make sure Renshan only sent the girl to him, and him alone. A small favor for Uncle Gerion.
"What sort of man are you?" The girl looked at him as if he had horns growing off his forehead.
There was no one like him in this entire world. No one. Not one. Only him. "Enough talking." Jaime reminded. "Make happy noises."
And the sound of false happy noises filled the room.
Robert
Lady Melisandre's mouth was like a furnace: it burned hotter than any womans mouth around his manhood as she pleasured him with lips and tongue. He whimpered loud and hard. "Lyanna." He called out and arched up, spilling his seed in her mouth before falling back into the cloud of pillows and silken sheets. When Robert gazed at her beautiful face, he almost forgot to note the crazed look in her eyes. Remember Robert, she is fucking crazy. He knew he shouldn't fuck crazy more than once, but damn, it was so good. She continued, not even slightly winded. "Now as I was saying as the Prince that was Promised you shall defeat the Great Other and all of his servants in the Great War for the Dawn. It is written in the stars."
Robert laughed. "It's a neat trick you do." He stretched back, his gut was getting slimmer to his satisfaction. Can't fucking kill the epitome of evil looking like a fat slob.
"Oh?" Her voice was high and sweet as the Maiden herself. It was as beautiful as a song, but pretty things did not fool him.
"You speak in vague terms with such confidence, as if they are fact. You've told me yourself we can misinterpret the fires." He swung his legs over the bed's edge as he brought his hand to his neatly trimmed beard. A new beard, for a new man. Are they just going on a wild chase for a breastplate stretcher? The thought brought a smile to his face. I'll have Ned send Lancel Lannister on one. It would be the funniest fucking thing ever. He sighed loud and deep, more a growl than anything. Are we Lancel Lannister? It felt like he was a stupid squire going on an impossible quest for the amusement of some god of flame and sun. Visions of flame and plans of Gods Robert didn't understand. They were not maps of battlefields or whores to shove his prick in, but vague signs of shadows and wisps of smoke. Though he knew the one thing in his life he wanted was taken from him and not even the whole Seven Kingdoms could fill the hole she left behind. And somehow this R'hllor could breathe life back into his winter rose. She could finally be his and Rhaegars villainy undone. It could be as it always should have been.
Robert imagined the smile Ned would have on his face when he accomplished it. He loved his sister more than anything. We both did. Seeing his Ned smile would be worth its weight in gold. The poor bastard was fucking miserable holding court, no doubt dealing with his bitch of a wife. Robert knew he was a shit friend for it, but Ned was better suited for it. When Jon Arryn told him he would be king, Robert should have placed the crown on Neds head and dammed them all. It was a head worthy of a crown of gold.
"Your destiny is written in stone." Lady Melisandre said with conviction.
"So you tell me, woman." The ship lurched against the waves. The Fury was a sound ship and with a dozen others as escorted sailed to the city of Tyrosh. His friend Thoros had suggested it as the best of the Free Cities to start the crusade. He and Lady Melisandre had contacts among the Fire Priests whom held great power over the ruling men of the city. His parents had traveled by ship to the Free Cities once a lifetime ago for the Mad King and they never returned, Robert recalled. Father was strong, quite strong, but the waves claimed him. It wouldn't happen to him, but it plagued his dreams. "You shall not return my boy." Father said. "The Gods drowned us and they shall do the same to you."
"I shall not drown." He replied.
His Mother gazed at him with sad eyes. "Robert." Tears in her eye, but could say no more as if he was cursed.
I'm not cursed, I'm saving Lyanna.
He offered a grin. "Which is why I'm getting a second opinion!" And roared with laughter as loud as thunder. It was perfect timing that Ser Barristan peered his wintery head in and informed him his drinking buddy was here. He jumped up when he saw the fat bastard with his unkempt beard. "Thoros!" And went to embrace the bastard in his stained crimson robes.
"Your grace, mayhaps you should put on some breaches." Thoros said and chuckled.
Robert looked down at his flapping manhood and roared with laughter. "Quite the awe-inspiring sight, isn't it? My royal prick!"
"I wouldn't know my king. I have nothing to compare it to save my own."
He snickered as he quickly put on his breaches.
Thoros, the good man he was, immediately went for the bottles of wine. "Lady Melisandre." He dipped his head politely. She rose with no shame naked as her name day and offered a cordial nod of her head and did likewise.
"A second opinion is a fair idea, my prince." Melisandre dressed herself in a silky red robe. She went to produce the flames of her god when Robert grabbed her hand.
"Nay." He announced. "Not tonight." Robert glowered before releasing her. "This night we drink ourselves into the fucking gutter!" One night off the cart before he committed himself to his sobriety once more. A sobriety for his Lyanna to rescue her from the jaws of death and return her from the land of the Stranger.
If such a declaration surprised her, she didn't show it. "And you wish me to partake." A statement and not a question.
Robert nodded. "I don't trust anyone that doesn't drink." It was the cure for all his problems, after all. When his parent died, he drank. When his friends died during the Rebellion, he drank. When Lyanna died, he really drank. Wine, beer, and Ned are my greatest friends.
"I'm loyal, my prince." She declared. "I shall do as you bid, but such tests are unneeded."
Thoros poured the drinks, and the goblets clanged together as they chugged down the contents. They did it again and again. Soon Thoros lit his sword aflame and waved it around as a child does a sword. A few embers escaped and his beard lit aflame. He snuffed it out, roaring with laughter. Melisandre sang songs and swooned in his chest, giggling as they danced. Barry, the silver fox came in worried like a crone about Thoros and his sword, and Robert beamed and roped him in to join them. We are partying! Everyone shall partake! He tried to claim he was on duty, but Robert gave him a command and Ser Barristan obeyed him and drank, too.
"I slew Maelys like this!" He showed for them in a drunken slash. "And then I pissed myself like a fucking horse! I had to piss the entire duel!" Wobbling as he fell on the bed, his face completely red from the wine. Lightweight. Robert mused.
"Barry." Robert puffed up his chest. "We need to get your sworn brothers in here!"
"Noooo." He rocked his head. "We can't do that. The Kingsguard protects the king!"
"The Kingsguard drinks with the king!" He twisted to the fire priestess. "Am I in any danger?"
Mel giggled as she had been doing all night. She shook her head. Her fiery red strands went everywhere as she did so. "The flames say you are safe!"
"The flames said I'm safe!" Robert announced in a loud boom as Thoros joined him, wrapping his arm around him, and joined the chant. "The flames said I'm safe! The flames said I'm safe!" And Barry was too deep into his cups to argue with logic like that. He rose from the bed with a plastered smile as he roused his brothers to join them. There was Ser Preston Greenfield, who played a fine game of cards and did whatever was asked of him. Good man. Robert knew he was fucking some draper's wife. He loved her. He's a lightweight like Barry and spilled his guts years ago. Ser Meryn Trant Robert didn't invite. It was Cersei who convinced him to name him to the order of the Kingsguard, and he did it just to shut her up. The man always looked at him with a hint of disgust at his antics. Robert didn't like him a lick and he would spoil the celebration. Ser Robar Royce was invited, and it was the first time he had drank with the lad. If he is like the father, a fine man, a fine knight. But when Robert saw Neds boy, he shouted.
"JONNNNNNNNN!" And lifted him up in the air like a rag doll and squeezed the life out of him. "Now it's a party!"
The boy looked red as he gasped for breath. "Your grace It would be unwise." He protested. "I should remain at my post."
"You are just like Ned! I love Ned, best man in the Seven Kingdoms!" And shoved the goblet in his hands, ignoring everything he said. "Drink your king commands it!"
Jon took a sip.
"No!" Robert roared, laughing. "Really drink it like this!" He chugged it down in three deep gulps and flung it. Something shattered, but he didn't care. "Do that Jon!" Frozen Stark eyes glowered at him.
"Come on Jon." Ser Robar grinned. "You heard our king."
Thoros swayed and started a chant. "Drink! Drink!" Barry joined and Melisandre as well and they hooted and hollered when Jon finally caved and gave a wolfish grin when he finished. Robert cheered louder than all of them. Melisandre sang songs and giggled madly. He sat her on his lap as they played a game of cards. Clothes fell to the ground. None of theirs, as Mel whispered in his ear when to fold and when to bluff. Jon gave Robar a black eye when he said his sister was foxy. What a Stark he was! Ned did the same in the Eyrie. Robert shouted." You are no Snow. You shall be a Stark! Kneel!" The boy fell to his knees, wordless with tears in his eyes as he gave him a new name. Ser Jon Stark a knight of the Kingsguard. They cheered.
Barry lamented with him about lost loves.
"Lyanna, my winter rose!"
"Ashara Dayne as beautiful as the dawn! But I swore a vow!"
Robert patted the man on the back as he wept into his hands.
Barry, the poor fellow, collapsed shortly after. Robert made sure they turned his head sideways. Don't want him to choke on his vomit. Noble Ser Barristan shouldn't die so pathetically, but with a sword in hand slaying a horde of knights. Jon and Robar were arm wrestling, and he challenged them both at the same time. Sweat poured down their brows as they struggled against them. Robert yawned and flicked his wrist down.
"GODS IM STRONG!"
They groaned as they slumped over. Both were naked knights from the game of cards.
Thoros ran out of the cabin to throw up over the rails of the ship.
Ser Preston walked out of his own volition until only he and crazy eyes remained.
"Mel, I'm going to call you Mel. Do you like that?" He asked, grinning.
Mel giggled. "I like it very much, my prince."
"Why must your God be soooo cryptic? Can't he just be like? Do this and how?"
"I know!" She smiled. "It would be easier, wouldn't?"
"YES!" Robert decided crazy eyes weren't so bad after all. She knew how to have a good time. "Do you really believe I'm this hero of song?" He wanted an honest answer out of her.
Melisandre's eyes looked ancient and solemn as they danced over him. "With all my heart, my prince. You shall defeat the Great Other. But you must listen to the flames."
"And my Lyanna?" His voice was a soft whisper.
"She'll be yours once more in the flesh." And Robert would bathe every city in blood to return his winter rose to the land of the living. And the Lord of Light had power. When he lifted the sword Lightbringer from the burning wreckage of the sept, his limbs felt stronger. I'm stronger, stronger than the Trident. He vanquished the dragons and he would rescue Lyanna.
Before she could reply, his visioned darkened, and he collapsed.
Robert woke up in his bed wearing nightly attire with crazy eyes, handing him some potion of sorts. "For your headache." Melisandre said. "And your knights when they awake." And looking at the limp forms scattered on the floor, they would likely need it. He groaned as he drank the sweet liquid down his throat. Her hands still burned hot. She looked completely fine. Robert guessed she had already drank it herself. He felt better immediately.
"Shit, this is good!"
Lady Melisandre chuckled. "Tis blessed by the Lord of Light."
"Hey Mel." Robert rose and offered his hand. "Thanks." And kissed the back of her hand as he learned many years ago in the Eyrie. "If you need anything, let me know. I shall see it done." She wasn't that bad after all and damn, she was easy on the eyes.
Melisandre nodded dutifully. "My thanks, your grace." And smiled. "I live to serve you in your wars to come."
And Robert was prepared to win them all.
Jon Stark
The blow was heavier than a giant's blow and Jon crumbled to the white courtyard, wheezing. Above him, King Robert hovered over him six foot five clad in a suit of armor and his famed antlered helm laughing. "Are you alright lad?" He asked, bending down. When King Robert rode through the gates of Winterfell, the fat drunkard had disappointed Jon. He couldn't believe the man had once been the Demon of the Trident. Jon didn't think it was possible that the man had defeated Prince Rhaegar, the last dragon. Jon had grown up on father stories of the man and after seeing King Robert in the flesh, thought them exaggerations, but sparring with him changed his beliefs. "I was trying to hold back for ya." And Jon knew it was no lie. He's strong, ungodly strong. Prince Rhaegar was beyond a fool for stealing the man's betrothed.
Jon groaned. "Well struck, your grace." He said the pretty southern words Ser Barristan had taught.
"Bah!" His Grace waved him off. "I'm still rusty as hell. I should be twice as fast, and far stronger than this!"
Yes, Prince Rhaegar was the king of fools.
Ser Barristan took his place for a spar with King Robert. He's the only one that beats him.
Around the manse of Archon Galen, his unsullied patrolled the grounds while servants ran errands. They carried small spears as they worked in perfect unison. Jon considered them very impressive. Even if it was appalling, the notion of slavery. A vile practice that made his skin crawl. It was scorching hot as one squire gave him a waterskin, which he drank in large greedy gulps. Jon dipped his head in a polite nod. "Ser Jon." The boy scurried off. The Archon Galen had graciously accepted them as guests as His Grace tried to schmooze the local ruling men of the city into funding his sellsword company. Jon thought they were being strung along. No refusals graced their lips, but no support had been granted either. King Robert was a foreign curiosity, much as Prince Jalabhar Xhohad been in King Roberts' court. They'll dine with us and tell japes, but little more. They view us as exotic curiosity like elephants. And Jon had seen one. Bran would love such mentioned his observations to King Robert, but he only laughed. All they had to their company were five men of the Kingsguard, a dozen knights and minor lords, two Red Priests, some servants, and a maester.
Robars squire attached the white cloak around his shoulders. I have no squire as of yet. Royce offered a classic shit-eating grin. The bruise on his eye was fading away. He shouldn't have spoken so freely about Sansa in my company. "Well, we drew the short straw again Stark." He said. "Got the bedroom assignment again, which means we shall have to hear whatever His Grace does to whatever whore he drags in." Stark. It still didn't feel real he had the name of his father. He was actually a Stark by the command of King Robert. He rose Jon Stark a knight of the Kingsguard. It was everything he wanted, and yet he felt bitter about it. I would have wished to have done something noteworthy to have earned it. Father would have asked for it after some act of courage. All of his siblings would be in attendance, as it was done. Instead, a drunk king whom was trying to honor his friend. I did nothing for it. Guilt motivates him. It was a hollow honor, almost a slight.
Robar rolled his eyes. "Gods, you're hopeless."
"What?" Jon asked, raised a brow.
"You brood every time I say the word Stark."
"I-"
"Don't deny it." Robar smirked. "You're a brooder. Reminds me of my brother Waymar."
"And you're a talker." Jon replied dryly. If there was one thing he had learned about Robar Royce was, he seemed to love the sound of his own voice, especially when they had to stand for hours on guard duty. You couldn't shut him up.
He didn't deny it. "And if I wasn't you would be bored shitless. Thank your Gods Stark, it isn't Trant they paired you with." Jon shivered at that. Of all his brothers, he liked him the least. Something was wrong with the man. He's my brother now. Jon reminded himself. They swore a vow to protect King Robert and he vowed to work with the man. Even if he was cruel, as he was incompetent. Robar flung an arm around him. "Do you think Lady Melisandre is going to attend to him tonight?"
Jon sighed. "Most likely." He agreed.
"She pretends to be your aunt. Queer stuff."
"We are supposed to keep the Kings secrets." He said the words Ser Barristan had taught. They were men of the Kingsguard and that meant something.
Robar smiled. "Not from a fellow man of the Kingsguard! We can gossip all day and night."
Before Jon could reply, he noted King Robert redden with fury as Maester Gormon handed him a letter. Ser Barristan's face looked hard and unreadable. However, King Robert merely roared with laughter as loud as thunder. "THOSE STUPID BASTARDS ARE GOING TO BE KILLED BY NED! GOOD FOR HIM! HE NEEDS TO GET HIS JUICES FLOWING AGAIN!"
"As you say, your grace." Ser Barristan said. "But mayhaps you should return to right your realm?"
"Of course we are returning!" King Robert vowed. "Me and Ned on a campaign again! We shall skin the lions or stomp on the roses!" And King Robert marched off in a whirlwind of energy to make plans for their return to Kings Landing. I shall see my siblings again. It would be nice to see Sansas gentle smile, or listen to Aryas fierce voice. And if the Realm was truly at war, Robb would come south with the banners of the North behind him, and Bran would stir from the Eyrie with Lord Jasper Arryn. I'm Jon Stark now. "Look at me Robb. I have father's name and I wear the white cloak." And despite everything, Jon smiled. He learned from Ser Barristan that the Tyrells of Highgarden had allegedly poisoned Ser Kevan Lannister, and the Lannisters had broken the Kings Peace by slaughtering the Tyrell household and maiming Lady Margaery Tyrell. Mira Forrester Jon recalled was with her. I hope she survived. She was of the North and deserved better than southern butchers.
The next morning as they broke bread and ate breakfast. Jon was peeling an orange while Ser Barristan was talking with Ser Preston over securing travel arrangements on the fastest galley out of Tyrosh. King Robert joined them late with Lady Melisandre by his side and said with a heavy sigh. "There is no need for such plans Ser Barristan. We are staying after all."
"Your grace. Do you think such wise?" Ser Barristan said cautiously.
"The Lord of Light has deemed it so." Lady Melisandre answered for His Grace, who merely turned from them gazing out the windows, arms interlocked behind his back. Ser Barristan eyed her with the suspicion that Jon shared. All of his sworn brothers gazed between the two of them in disbelief. Father needs our help! How could they stay in the East while other men fought for his own throne? He names himself a king and does that!?
Jon rose with great heat. It was the biggest load of shit he had ever heard. "And if this Lord of Light told you to jump off a cliff, would you do so?" He mocked.
"Thoros agrees with her." King Robert said, grinding his teeth as Lord Stannis had done. "The flames have spoken and I shall listen to such."
"The Great Other comes for your realm, your grace." Lady Melisandre said. "You need to rally men of the west and east to your cause." She purred. "Lord Stark shall manage your realm for you. I've seen such. I've seen the banner of House Stark over the Rock with all the creatures of the land bowing before the quiet wolf."
"My king-"
"Enough boy. I've made my choice."
"Well, you are a damn fool!" Jon said with heat before storming off. He heard Ser Barristan call after him as Jon whistled for Ghost to join him. No one came after him as he ran down the halls. Jon wasn't staying. My family needs me. And damn anyone who tries to stop him. Snow. Stark. He was still Lord Starks son and his siblings were in danger. And he needed to protect them.
Authors note: I'm back! With a new chapter! I'm still not happy with the Jon portion, but I rarely am with his POV. Anyway thanks for all the comments, I love reading them and replying to them. It's a lot of fun. Next up we shall see a Jaime escape attempt in action, Robert discovering all the weapons in Lady Melisandres arsenal for his campaigns, and Melisandre debates with the Fire Priests over Roberts Prince that was Promised status with words and flames, Jon Snow chooses between honor and family.