"Of all the stupid-"
"I know!" Catelyn cut off the Queen of Thorns, "I just- I know. So please you don't have to rub it in for me more than this viewing already is."
"The point of us watching is to learn from our mistakes" Ned added, a hand on Catelyn's and his eyes on Lady Olenna, respectful in his gaze. "My wife has made an error in her judgement in a future that will not unfold. She is learning from her mistakes now for that specific reason. There is no need to add to her woes."
Olenna snorted but only shook her head after.
"Thank you, Ned" Catelyn whispered to her husband in gratitude.
Ned smiled at her and patted her hand.
[King's Landing, Ned Stark arrives at the grounds where the Tourney of the Hand will take place. He enters a tent where Ser Hugh is being tended to, he enters to speak with Barristan.]
"He looks well" Rhaegar commented, lilac eyes pinned on Ser Barristan. He was happy to see the man still alive and healthy… Yet he couldn't help but feel a little hateful at seeing the man who swore to protect him and his family turn cloaks like he had.
Elia patted him on the hand. She too felt the same, but a lot more than he did. Ser Barristan was a friend, and here he was serving the murderer of her children. Or rather, the man who let it go unpunished. She had always thought the old night to be a man of honour. Guess honour went out the window when it came to saving your head.
"Does Ser Hugh have any family in the capital?"
"No. I stood vigil for him myself last night. He had no one else."
"He'd never worn this armour before."
"Bad luck for him... Going against the Mountain."
"Mhm… bad luck" muttered Tyrion. The boy was silenced, he was certain of that fact.
"Who determines the draw?"
"All the knights draw straws, Lord Stark."
"Aye... But who holds the straws"
[Scene changes to Ned entering King Robert's tent. Lancel, Robert's squire, is attempting to dress him in his armour.]
"You've really let yourself go" Ned said looking straight at Robert.
"It's all the wine" Robert grunted, his face flushed in embarrassment.
"Wine, meat and no exercise" Renly added, smiling when his eldest brother shot him a glare.
"It's made too small, Your Grace. It won't go."
"Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat arse. Did you know that?"
"Was that comment entirely necessary?" Jon Arryn chided the King.
The King muttered something, looking embarrassed.
"Look at this idiot! One ball and no brains. He can't even put a man's armour on him properly."
"You're too fat for your armour."
"Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your King?"
[Both Robert and Ned begin laughing. Lancel also starts to laugh.]
"Oh, it's funny, is it?"
"No, Your Grace."
"No? You don't like the Hand's joke?"
Ned shook his head. Robert really loved pulling people's legs.
"You're torturing the poor boy."
"You heard the Hand. The King's too fat for his armour! Go find the breastplate stretcher, now!"
"They made something like that?" Rhaegar raised a brow,
[Lancel runs out of the tent.]
"The breastplate stretcher?"
"How long before he figures it out?"
"Ah," the Dragon prince shook his head with a small smile. It was a little funny.
"Maybe you should have one invented."
"All right, all right. But you watch me out there. I still know how to point a lance."
"You have no business jousting. Leave that for the young men."
"Why? Because I'm king? Piss on that. I want to hit somebody!"
"And who's hitting you back?" Elia raised a delicate brow in question. "You're the King, who will dare hit you?"
"Anyone with the balls will hit back" Robert grunted, puffing up angrily.
"No, nobody would. They fear for their lives too much to do that" Elia shook her head. "Royalty is untouchable. That is what they know. They would rather jump into your lance than hurt you by accident."
"She isn't wrong," Jon Arryn said kindly but sternly. "You're King now, these things are no longer for you. I remember having this talk with you before, Robert."
Robert sighed, rubbing his face with a fat hand. Too fat for his armour, too high up for anyone to touch him. He hated it.
[At the jousting track where there are lots of onlookers, cheering. Ser Gregor bows before the King before he and his horse take off down one lane of the track.]
"Where's Arya"
"At her dancing lessons."
"You don't know what her dancing really is do you" It was more of a statement than a question from Robb.
"Probably" Sansa muttered with a shrug.
"The Knight of the Flowers."
[Loras bows to Sansa and then exchanges looks with Renly Baratheon.]
"He squired for me" Renly drawled at the look he got from a few people.
"Are you sure there's not more there?" Oberyn asked snidely.
Renly smiled tightly at him.
[Loras then rides and bows before the King, also taking off down the opposite track.]
"Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him."
"Hey."
"I can't watch."
[Behind Ned and Sansa.]
"100 gold dragons on the Mountain."
"I'll take that bet."
"Now what will I buy with 100 gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?"
"Is that all he could think of?" Catelyn asked frowning.
"He owns pleasure houses, my Lady. He's probably thinking business" Varys said kindly.
"Yeah, yeah that's just it" Catelyn shook her head.
"Or you could even buy a friend."
"He's going to die."
"Ser Loras rides well."
[A trumpet is heard and both competitors race down their lanes. Loras knocks Ser Gregor off of his mount.]
A few people clapped at the victory, the loudest being Margaery. It was her brother after all.
"Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."
"And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend?"
"Our friend is a sore loser" Tyrion chuckled. He had little to love for his father's giant dog of a bannerman, seeing him lose was fulfilling in a way.
"A shame he walked away from that" Oberyn muttered, gripping the arm of his chair tightly. Beside him, both Elia and Rhaegar stiffened.
"Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really."
"He would never do such a thing!" Sansa gasped, looking scandalized. "There is no honour in that."
"I'm afraid my brother would do that" Margaery shook her head.
"Because he has a mind that he sometimes uses" Olenna rolled her eyes. "Listen, girl, the world isn't all songs and tales. You need to grab every opportunity that presents itself to you."
Sansa stared at the older woman before looking away. How could she defend the man when his own family confirmed it?
[Gregor gets up off of the ground, and shouts for his sword. His squire brings it to him and then Gregor severs his horse's head completely off.]
Everyone gasped in horror, Sansa letting out a little shriek of disbelief and shock.
[The crowd is stunned, Gregor then attacks Loras. Knocking him off of his horse and striking him with his sword.]
Margaery gripped her grandmother's hand tightly.
"If anything happens to my grandson, Imp, The South will march on the Westerlands and burn every last man that stands in our way before we hang your gold-shitting father over a burning pyre of his bannermen's corpses. Am I understood?" Olenna said coldly.
"Yes, ma'am" Tyrion muttered. "She's right descriptive about what she plans to do in revenge" this he whispered to his brother, who snorted.
[Sandor, the Hound, runs down from the stands and fends off his brother.]
Margaery relaxed.
"Stop this madness in the name of your King!"
[Sandor takes a bow and Gregor storms off. Loras walks up to Sandor, raising his hand in victory.]
[Scene changes to Catelyn and her group stopping for rest, presumed on the Kingsroad on their way to Winterfell.]
"Remove his hood."
[The Bard singing.]
"On that eve, the captive Imp down-wards from his horse did limp, no more would he preen and primp, in garb of red and gold."
"This isn't the Kingsroad. You said we were riding for Winterfell."
"I did... often and loudly."
"Where are you taking him?" Ned whispered to his shrugging wife.
"Very wise. They'll be out in droves, looking for me in the wrong place. Word's probably gotten to my father by now. He'll be offering a handsome reward. Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts. Would you be so good as to untie me?"
"And why would I do that?"
"Why not? Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots. Unless a Shadowcat ate me first."
"Shadowcats and hill tribes are the least of your concerns."
"Ah... the Eastern Road. We're going to The Vale."
Jon Arryn frowned. The Eastern road could be dangerous for this small group. The mountain men were not people who showed mercy to anyone with anything valuable. And then there was Lysa herself. He threw Caelyn a look and held back a sigh. He only hoped Lysa would help her sister.
"You're taking me to your sister's to answer for my imagined crimes. Tell me, Lady Stark. When was the last time you saw your sister?
"Five years ago."
"She's changed. She was always a bit touched, but now... you might as well kill me here."
"I am not a murderer, Lannister."
"Neither am I! I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life!"
"The dagger found"
"What sort of imbecile arms an assassin with his own blade?"
"Should I gag him?"
"I'm starting to make sense" Tyrion chuckled. But he was thoughtful enough to keep it to himself. As Ned Stark had said, no use rubbing it in.
[A rock slams into one of Catelyn's men, one of the hill tribes begins to attack.]
Ned stiffened. He was no stranger to the Hill Tribes of the Vale. Unlike those from the North, they were more on the vicious side with a more dangerous and marauding nature. He'd fought some during his time at the Vale, and he could only hope his wife got out of this alive.
She just might. These ones seemed like a smaller group.
[Rodrik moves Catelyn behind a rock, out of harm's way. The men, mainly Bronn begin successfully defending against the tribe.]
"This one's good" Tyrion mused. Maybe he could track him down somehow.
[Tyrion sees Catelyn pull out a small dagger, he runs over to her and convinces her to cut him loose.]
"Untie me. If I die, what's the point?"
[Tyrion, now loose, runs over and picks up a shield. He fends off an attack as another of Lady Stark's men kills him. Another tribesman is nearing Catelyn, Tyrion rushes over with his shield, knocks him to the ground and begins slamming it into his throat, directly in front of, and in defence of Catelyn. The battle comes to an end with many of their men defeated.]
"Congratulations on your first kill, brother" Jaime clapped his brother on the back with a smirk.
"Who says that was my first kill?" Tyrion raised a brow.
Jaime's smirk faltered and Tyrion grinned.
"Your first? You need a woman. Nothing like a woman after a fight."
Oh yeah, he was definitely hunting this one down.
[At King's Landing Arya is running through the halls chasing a cat. She's seen running down a hallway.]
"Why are you chasing cats?" Bran asked.
Arya shrugged.
"It's to teach her to be stealthy" Oberyn answered when the girl shrugged. "Cats have sharp ears and sharp reflexes, if you can sneak up on them, you can sneak up on anyone."
"And sharp claws too" Elia muttered. She remembered that little hellspawn that Rhaenys insisted on calling Balerion.
"That too" Oberyn chuckled. But internally he wondered why the Stark girl was doing this. Stealth was a good thing to have, but not something mandatory for Water Dancing. Or at least the basics of it. Why was Syrio teaching her this then?
"Come on. I'm not gonna hurt you."
[Ned is in his chambers at his desk, Varys is speaking to him, walking around securing all of the windows before sitting down to talk more seriously.]
"How is your son, my Lord?"
"He'll never walk again."
"But his mind is sound?"
"So they say."
"A blessing then. I suffered an early mutilation myself. Some doors close forever... others open in the most unexpected places. If the wrong ears heard what I'm about to tell you, off comes my head. And who would mourn poor Varys then? North or South, they sing no songs for spiders. But there are things you must know. You are the King's Hand and the King is a fool... your friend, I know, but a fool... and doomed unless you save him."
"I've been in the capital a month. Why have you waited so long to tell me this?"
"I didn't trust you."
"So why do you trust me now?"
"The Queen is not the only one who has been watching you closely. There are few men of honour in the capital. You are one of them. I would like to believe I am another, strange as that may seem."
"You and Lord Stark have very different definitions of honour" Renly snorted.
"You'd be surprised, Lord Renly, at how similar the two of us can be," Varys said with a smile. A smile that had Renly hold back a shudder. There was something about the man… something unsettling.
"What sort of doom does the King face?"
"The same sort as Jon Arryn."
Ned, Jon Arryn and Robert sat straighter.
"The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace."
Oberyn whistled.
"You made a rich enemy, Lord Arryn" the man said.
"It's not the Lannisters" Daenerys said with absolute surety. "It's too obvious. The poison is expensive, and the first person anyone would think of is a Lannister because of how they flaunt their wealth."
"Regardless, they are still suspects" Jon muttered. He actually agreed with Daenerys on this. The Lannisters would be too obvious.
"It would still have to be someone close to giving it to him" Robb pointed out.
"Like Ser Hugh?" suggested Margaery.
All four involved in the conversation nodded in unison.
"Who could have given it to him?"
"Probably someone who would benefit Lord Arryn's death."
All four went silent in thought.
Ned looked at Robert.
Robert looked at Ned.
They both looked at Jon Arryn.
Jon Arryn looked at them.
"Who would benefit?" Ned asked his foster father.
"I have no idea" Jon Arryn muttered. Yet he had a sinking feeling that the person close to him was not just Ser Hugh.
[We shift to a dark dungeon of King's Landing. Arya is still chasing the cat. She stops to admire a large dragon's skull.]
"Balerion" Rhaegar whispered to Daenerys, who jumped a little at having been snapped out of her thoughts. The girl looked on with awe, as did the other young ones.
[She hears two men talking, and hides from them, just in earshot. The two men are Lord Varys and Magister Illyrio Mopatis.]
"What are you doing?" Robert growled.
"Gathering information no doubt, your Grace" Varys said with a frown. He recognised the other voice, a little surprised the rest hadn't. He hoped his plot would not come to light just yet.
"He's found one bastard already. He has the book. The rest will come."
"And when he knows the truth, what will he do?"
"He's the man from Essos! The one Daenerys lived with" Arya pointed out.
Daenerys almost slapped herself. How had she not recognised that voice?!
"What is he doing there?" Jon Arryn questioned.
"He is… an old friend" Varys answered hesitantly. It was all coming undone much too fast for his liking.
"The man harbouring the Targaryens is your friend?" Renly questioned.
"Where do you think I get my information about them from?" Varys asked in return.
Daenerys stared at the plump man in alarm. She'd been living under her enemy's roof all this time?!
"The gods alone know. The fools tried to kill his son. What's worse, they botched it. The wolf and the lion will be at each other's throats. We will be at war soon, my friend."
"What good is war now? We're not ready. If one Hand can die, why not a second?"
"It's starting to sound like you were involved with Jon's murder" Robert growled.
"This Hand is not the other."
"We need time. Khal Drogo will not make his move until his son is born. You know how these savages are."
"'Delay,' you say. 'Move fast,' I reply. This is no longer a game for two players.|
"It never was."
"SPIDER!" the King snarled, his face red from livid anger. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF!"