Weiss

The Crossroad Inn was just as Weiss had imagined and lived up to the name, in that it was an inn that sat at the crossroads of the Riverroad, Kingsroad, and High Road. It sat just north of the Trident, with the ruby ford close by, where Robert Baratheon had slain Prince Rhaegar in what sounded like an epic confrontation, if the songs were to be believed. Thousands of men had died in this very land over a decade ago, and many more likely die in the far future. It was a sad truth of life, of humanity. Weiss pressed her lips together. Humans always seemed to brew conflict, which allowed the Grimm to grow so powerful back on Remnant. Thankfully, none existed in this world, which would easily fall due to a lack of Dust and Aura.

"Would it not have been better to stay south of the Trident, Lady Weiss? We could have stayed the night in Lord Harroways town." Cedric questioned, attempting to, no doubt raise a valid point, in his mind.

"Perhaps." Weiss kept her gaze forward, looking towards her destination. They had managed to cross the Trident without an issue, at the shallow point where the Kingsroad kept going north. Tomorrow, they would have to retrace their steps to continue onto the Riveroad, which flowed just south of the Trident. "However, I wish to see the inn where King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne once stayed."

"It's just a normal inn." Cedric muttered under his breath, not willing to contradict her that outloud. He had changed into a set of silver chains, along with a Lannister half-helm that covered his hair and eyes. It had been a nameday gift from Weiss a few years ago. Cedric held the Lannister banner high in the air, flanking Weiss' right side. Pod rode to her left upon a smaller mare, wearing a fine doublet in the colors of House Payne, and held Weiss' personal standard.

"A normal inn that has seen the rise and fall of our history." Weiss corrected her sworn sword, shooting him a half-glare. She had changed into a red dress decorated with golden snowflakes, more presentable than her riding trousers and silk shirt. Also, since she was about to greet new people, she needed to look her best. She was representing the Lannisters, after all, and she had to maintain appearances.

While she would have preferred to travel inconspicuously, without drawing too much attention, her Valyrian features weren't easily hidden, as well as the group of almost fifty people that she traveled with, which included a dozen heavily armored men-at-arms on stallions. Even a village idiot would know that she was a noble lady at a glance, coupled with the lions emblazoned across her clothing, and they would recognize her as a Lannister. With the way news and rumors spread in this world, Weiss likely was now being claimed as someone who single-handedly descended from the Heavens on white wings and proceeded to bash her way through the melee reciting scripture. That is, if news of the melee had already started to spread, along with a description of her. Photographs didn't exist here, and commissioning paintings was expensive enough that only rich nobles and merchants would be able to do so.

Cedric shrugged in response to her words, but acquiesced as they continued to approach the Crossroad Inn. It was three stories tall, with several turrets and chimneys made out of white stone. Nearly half a hundred houses made out of the same white stones sat several hundred feet away, along with a small market and a small sept that towered over the homes. Even with the mild traffic at the crossroads, it looked painfully boring. Not boring, idyllic. It looked like it came right out of one of her childhood stories.

Weiss urged her horse onward towards the Inn, with Cedric, Pod and the rest following closely behind. A few smallfolk children were playing on the muddy road, but were quickly pulled to the side by their parents or friends once the Lannister banners were spotted and the sounds of their horses filled the air. A minor Lady from the Westerlands she may be, but she was still a noble, even in the Riverlands. Add in the Lannister reputation for taking no offense without retaliation, and nobody wanted to take any chances. The Riverlands had been fought over anytime a war kicked off, so the smallfolk had learned to be cautious around strange nobles. Today's visitor might return the next day and sack the village, after all.

Thankfully, Weiss wasn't that cruel, but that didn't mean the smallfolk knew her character. For all they knew, she was a spoiled Lannister girl on a simple road trip and, well, their reputation spoke for itself. They approached the Crossroad Inn without any issues, though Weiss' white hair earned her more than a few stares and murmurs. Valyrian features were rare outside the Crownlands and Essos.

Weiss pressed her lips into a thin line as her sapphire eyes scanned the rather plain inn, and then turned to the crossroad itself, which had little traffic today. That was boring, she was hoping to have seen other traveling nobles from the other kingdoms, ideally from the North. Her original plan had centered around finding a Northern lord or merchant that had traveled this far south, and hopefully question them about the children of Lord Eddard Stark.

"How disappointing." Weiss mumbled under her breath, before letting out a slow exhalation. Hopefully there were some Northerners within the Inn itself, or maybe she could find one before they departed in the morning. From here her party would ride back across the Trident, and take the Riverroad to Riverrun, the seat of House Tully who ruled the Riverlands since the time of Aegon the Conqueror.

"Will my Lady give Podrick and I leave to explore the ruby ford once we have settled in?" Cedric asked, his voice smug at being proved correct for once.

"Silly Cedric." Weiss shot him a soft glare. "The smallfolk must've picked Rhaegar's rubies clean by now, or they would've been washed downstream." Not that she could blame him, mind. It was worth a shot at least, if only for bragging rights.

There was only one ruby that was needed in this life.

Brienne

Dragonstone seemed gloomier than usual without the presence of its heir, though it seemed to brighten with the arrival of Lady Shireen. Yet, even with the presence of Lord Stannis' second daughter, Dragonstone could never compare with Tarth. Tarth was beautiful, unlike Brienne, oddly humorous to her, that her home and future domain would be lovely, whereas she was not. The Sapphire Isle was covered in gorgeous lakes, soaring mountains, high meadows and shadowed vales. Dragonstone, on the other hand, had a tragic sense of beauty that appealed to her, oddly enough. A dark architecture that, for some inexplicable reason, drew her in. Black stone made up the castle itself, with dragons carvings and statues decorating the ancient walls and halls. And when a storm blew up, the place would shine in the rain, water glistening off the blackened stone. The fog only seemed to enhance its dangerous beauty, shrouding the castle in an air of mystery.

Brienne quickly took a backstep, raising her shield to block a slash a few seconds too late, the blunted steel hitting the side of her arm hard. Shaking her head and ignoring the pain, she pushed forward, attempting to bash the shield onto Ser Waymar's handsome face, which was twisted into a grin at finally landing a blow on her. She towered over the Vale Knight, a not uncommon occurrence, and she used that to her advantage. Swinging her mace hard onto his own shield, he was shoved backwards, sliding a bit on the sand of the training ring. He winced behind his half-helm, but adjusted his footing to bring his blunted sword around, which Brienne blocked with her shield once more. The two slowly backed off, their weapons at the ready position.

"Were you there when the Lannister girl fought?" Brienne asked suddenly, seeking to distract Waymar. She had passed on Blake's offer to join her in King's Landing, no, there were too many people, most of which would no doubt laugh in her face or whisper behind her back. Even on Dragonstone, when Lord Stannis wasn't present, Brienne heard the whispers that the other knights and men-at-arms spread, calling her 'Brienne the Beauty'. Admittedly, that number was dropping a tad, being beaten into a sparring ring did encourage one to watch their tongue.

"Aye, when she faced my Father and the Red Priest." Ser Waymar answered while still keeping his eyes on her. He was the youngest son of Lord Yohn Royce, and a decent swordsman. "I was escorting Lady Shireen through the tents with the Onion Knight, so I didn't see how she fared earlier."

Brienne struck first, charging at him with her mace high in the air, only for the smaller Royce to sidestep out of the way, as if he was in a waltz. He counted with a slash that Brienne knocked out of the way with the head of her mace and the two of them sprang back once more. She had only heard rumors and whispers from King's Landing, all about a Lannister girl who had defeated some of the realm's finest warriors, and named Blake the 'Princess of Love and Beauty' with a display of magic.

"Was she as skilled as they say?" Brienne continued. Blake's letters left out much, only that she had to remain in King's Landing for a while longer, and she never mentioned the Lannister girl. Was that out of fear of them being intercepted, or something else?

"Better." Ser Waymar's eyes danced darkly. "My Father's not an unskilled squire, and Thoros of Myr has won many melees, yet she defeated them one and the same." He lunged forward, his blunted sword scraping against Brienne's shield. The move was sloppy, and easily predicted.

"She broke my Father's shield with her sword, like that of a Braovosi, shattering wood and snapping the strips of iron like they were bread." Ser Waymar continued while he maneuvered around the ring, trying to flank her. "Unnatural, like the magic she used to form stairs made out of seven-pointed snowflakes."

Brienne tried another shield bash, just for the thinner knight to avoid it once more. She had grown used to magic, sharing the same table with Malora Hightower and the Red Woman would do that to anyone. "And then she named Lady Blake as the 'Princess of Love and Beauty."

"Aye." Ser Waymar smirked as he went back on the offensive, with three quick strikes that forced Brienne behind her shield and drove her back a step. She pressed her thin lips tightly. Why would the Lannister girl name Blake, and not the Queen? Or any other lady present? Was there something else at play?

Suddenly, Brienne found her opening as Ser Waymar overextended himself, and slid her body to the left, using her shield to block his blade and slammed her mace into his exposed shoulder. A bruise for a bruise. So far, Ser Waymar had proven to be one of the tougher foes, making her work for any injury she would inflict on him.

Ser Waymar grunted as their dance came to an end. He removed his half-helm, allowing his long black hair to fall freely, which framed his young and clean-shaven face. "The Lannister could beat both of us, she's as skilled as the Kingslayer."

Brienne removed her own helm, revealing her short cropped blonde hair, and frowned. Blake was the best fighter she knew, Brienne had never won in any of their spars. If this Lannister girl truly lived up to the rumors, then she was dangerous. The future Evenstar did not know much about Lannisters personally, relying on rumors and what she had heard from others, but she knew that the Royal Court was full of them due to the Queen's influence. However, she also knew that they were cruel and ruthless, extinguishing Houses Reyne and Tarbeck before her Father was even born. In the end, it wouldn't matter. White Lioness or Kingslayer, if it ever came to blows, then Lady Blake Baratheon would come out the victor. She was the most skilled warrior Brienne had ever met, and more than worthy of her loyalty.

"Very good." Another voice interrupted them, sultry and foreign. The two looked up from the training yard, their eyes drifting to the battlements, where a woman in red watched them.

Melisandre, the Red Priestess, gave them a small and subtle smirk. With a low-cut, red dress that left her shoulders and cleavage exposed, the Red Woman looked like an other-worldly being. If Blake was an elegant beauty, then this woman had the look of a seductress, with her hair as red as copper. Red was a common theme to her, it seemed, all her clothes were in some form of red, her eyes were an unsettling red, yet her skin was as pale as the snow in winter.

"Our Prince shall need such skilled warriors in the war to come." She said, the red-gold choker with a ruby around her long neck shining softly when the clouds parted, briefly revealing the sun. "Loyal warriors at that." The Red PriestessWoman sauntered away without another word as the two stared at her back. She disappeared into a crowd of servants and knights scurrying about.

Brienne allowed her sword-arm to fall to her side gently, her hand gripping the mace tightly. She was prone to that, show up, say some relatively enigmatic phrase, and depart. The fact that she was foretelling war was a matter of debate among the knights. Some argued it was proof she could see the future in her fires. Others retorted by pointing out even Patchface could say something ominous, and in fact seemed to say nothing but dark tidings.

Brienne didn't trust the Red Woman, not one bit.

A/N

We'll be slowing done on updates to let the chapters breathe, and to tease the start of the war.