Night of Song

[Edric's POV]

Returning to the Red Keep with a horde of admirers certainly was something. The streets were filled to the brim with smallfolk trying to get a closer glimpse. I took the longer way atop my destrier, accompanied by an honour guard and gold cloaks at every turn. With how they cheered for me, you would've thought I had already caved the Night King into oblivion.

I could almost blush, truth be told.

The Red Keep was just as welcoming, with all manner of lords and ladies praising my performance.

"What a glorious day for my nephew, the King!" Renly was chief amongst them, bearing the look of a proud uncle as he tightly embraced me. He smiled and turned to the court, ruffling my hair. "The Gods could not have chosen a more worthy champion to reign over the greatest tournament that has ever been!"

"This day shall be sung for centuries to come!"

There was a resounding roar of agreement as a toast was shared in my name. Renly removed his hand and turned to me, gesturing for me to speak.

"It is a grand day, indeed." I smiled, nodding as I scanned my gaze across the court. Harrold Arryn smiled as I looked at him. "This grand tournament was a celebration of our Realm's great knights, warriors and even those of foreign lands. A breath of fresh air as the restoration of the King's Peace was complete and all Seven Kingdoms returned to the fold."

A word from our sponsor...

I grabbed a cup of wine. One wouldn't hurt today.

"But... let us not forget that none of this would've been possible without our Lord Arryn, Lord of the Vale and Warden of the East, who played a great part in its realisation. Not only had it been his idea, but he also funded half of it straight out of the Vale's treasury."

I raised my cup, and everyone in the Great Hall followed.

"Let us share a toast to Lord Harrold of House Arryn, the Vale, Ysilla Royce and his grand marriage to come!"

Another round of cheers followed as those around Harrold Arryn congratulated him. Several more toasts followed, one for the Kingsguard, another for the lords who travelled to King's Landing and one last one for the Queen of Love and Beauty.

Afterwards, all settled down, and the feast began. I wasn't eating too gracefully, my stomach becoming an endless void that took every plate of food in sight. Arya had been glowing, all smiles and joyous laughter.

I had never seen her so happy... to think that a wreath of flowers could mean so much.

Once, all I had ever sought was love, someone to bring light to a world that was tearing me apart. I thought that someone could come along and fix everything, make me happy and fulfilled - yet that could only ever happen in a dream. Life was most certainly not a dream.

Only I could make the most of myself. If I stood still and let the waves take me, I'd be nowhere again, and no amount of pulling could reel me back on track.

As for that feeling I had twice... it had been lost to me. It was beautiful, yet twice as dreadful when it faded. Such is love... something I had given up on.

There were more important things in life, I had decided. More important things than even myself. My actions reflected on the lives of millions of people; that is the burden a King must carry. Besides that, there were other things I could find joy in.

Arya… I've been cold to her. Negligent. Our relationship had been rocky, at the best of times. At first, I defiantly objected the notion, then I played along with the intention of severing if something far more compelling fell to me and finally... I came to accept it.

If she had been closer to my actual age, it would've been easier for me - for us. Alas, nothing in this world was perfect. One day, Arya would be a woman-grown, as they say... and my wife.

Her joy was more important than my temporary discomfort.

I took another cup, savouring the taste.

"I thought you would never drink wine again." Arya raised an eyebrow at me.

"Why, I'm celebrating this joyous occasion." I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. "Besides, I have a high tolerance for such things. A few cups of this weak wine won't do much more than brighten my mood."

Now Stag's Fury, on the other hand...

I finished the cup and placed it down, looking at Arya. The wreath fit her head almost perfectly, a mix of flowers in my two favourite colours; purple and gold. I would've gotten one with blue winter roses instead, but they didn't have any in King's Landing. No idea how that Rhaegar Targaryen got his hands on them from Harrenhal. To his credit, he must've planned way ahead... or it might be something that happened because the plot wanted it to.

"It would not look good if the King couldn't stomach more than water, is that right?" Arya added.

"That's another point, I suppose." I nodded. "It's... like leading your men into battle. If I don't drink, then why should they? It dulls the celebration, in a way. Buuut, if matters do get out of hand, I have my trusted hound to bark everyone away. Trust me, he's the finest man around for that duty. He scares alll the ladies away."

"I don't doubt that." Arya had a bite of her food.

"You could also guard my bedchamber with your little needle," I added, chuckling.

"I have faith in you." She replied, smiling. "Enough not to watch under your bed."

"How fitting for the future queen to be named the Queen of Love and Beauty by the triumphant King, who bested all the challengers in his path."

Mychel Redfort approached with a smile alongside his newly-wed wife. I nodded, turning to him.

"It is something you'd hear in a song, no?"

"Indeed, Your Grace."

"I heard rumours that you were not fond of your betrothal before." Mya Stone, now Redfort, remarked as she looked at Arya. I do recall stating my distaste in a sarcastic manner. "My worries were left unfounded, sweet brother. I believe actions speak louder than words, and you showed your love with the Realm as witness."

She had not said it in a non-mocking manner, being completely sincere.

"We hope to attend your marriage when it comes." Mychel Redfort bowed his head courteously. "If you would have us, of course-"

"Pfft." I laughed. "Why would I deny my brother-by-law? You are welcome to my court whenever you fancy."

"I thank you for your hospitality."

"It will be a day of endless joy and love, I am sure." Mya turned to me, ruffling my hair. "No one is more worthy of love than my sweet brother."

"Don't say it like that, Mya." I chuckled, shaking my head. "It's far too embarrassing."

"I only speak the truth." Mya retreated, looking towards her husband. "Am I wrong?"

"His Grace has a giant-sized heart of gold; he will find love wherever he walks." Mycah smiled, affirming. "His Grace and Lady Arya Stark look joyous on this day, and I have no doubt that joy will blossom into a profound bond of love as the years go by."

"How poetic." I chuckled, glancing at Mya. "Have you turned Ser Mychel into a singer?"

"Amusingly enough, it is one of his newest interests..." Mya shrugged.

"You can sing, Ser?" I asked, amused. "Let us hear your voice."

"Ah..." Mychel Redfort chuckled nervously. "It is a work in progress, Your Grace... I have yet to hone my skills. They are unworthy of a King's ears."

"I decide what's worthy and unworthy." I shook my head. "Go on, don't be shy. I won't shame you for trying."

"It is treason to deny a King's command, you know." Mya added with a smile, patting his back.

"... I dare not." Mychal Redfort cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"In a realm of myths and tales, where heroes never die,"

His voice sounded quite good; I don't know what he was so insecure about.

"A sovereign rides the dawn, beneath the boundless sky."

"With eyes of steely blue, and a heart so pure and bright,"

"He stands the mightiest of all, the King of Knights."

Oh, the King of Knights? The irony is not lost on me.

"With honor in his heart, and justice in his hand,

He roams the endless fields, to free the shadowed land.

No challenge ever falters, no darkness stands his might,

He is the light, the King of Knights."

I remained quiet, letting him cook.

"Oh, King of Knights, your glory ever reigns,

Through battles fought and won, your legacy remains.

With courage like a storm, and valour in your veins,

Oh, King of Knights, we'll sing your name."

He paused, stopping.

"As I said... it's a work in progress."

Mychal scratched his hair.

"How wonderful." I clapped my hands several times, turning to Arya. "What do you think?"

"It's fitting, though his voice cracked a few times." Arya shrugged. "He's better than some of the singers here."

"I am honoured." Mychal nodded.

"Let me add to your song." I stood up from my seat with a raised finger, feeling quite gregarious. It was no doubt the wine. "Hmm... I know. In halls of ancient stone, where echoes of... legends... no, heroes, resound. He yearns for peace and love, by the sea's calming winds. But... duty calls him forth, to realms both near and far. With winds of hope to guide, he rides for a distant dream."

"... I didn't know you were a singer, too." Mya blinked with surprise.

"Give Edric some wine, and he can grow wings." Arya jested.

"It's... perfect, Your Grace." Mychal praised.

"Please, don't be afraid to be honest." I chuckled, shaking my head. "It wasn't perfect."

"Well, it might need a few changes, but it fits... I thank you for your insight, Your Grace."

"You're most welcome, brother."

"Is that my King's singing, I hear?" Harrold Arryn joined the party, patting Mychal's shoulder. "Am I too late to be blessed?"

"Aye, you are." I laughed. "I only had enough singing in me for one verse."

"That is a shame." Harrold Arryn looked dejected for a moment. He, too, seemed to have had a good drink. "What a lovely wreath you've given your betrothed. Gold I may understand, but I am curious as to why you chose purple..."

"Well, it is my most beloved colour." I admitted, shrugging. "It's quite beautiful, don't you think?"

"I did not know." Harrold stroked his chin. "You always wear black with gold, after all... did you know, Ser?"

"No." Mychal shook his head.

"Neither did I," Arya added.

"Ah, I've thought of a gift for your name day already, Your Grace." Harrold Arryn smiled, his blue eyes lighting up. "I shall bring you the most brilliant of purple doublets known to the world. It shall be fringed with golden Myrish lace, soft and gentle as feathers. You may be able to use it as a pillow if you seek."

"That is quite the pitch." I won't lie, it did sound appealing. "If you must, get me a suitable set of lower garments to go with it."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Then I shall wear it for an entire year." I jested, laughing. "I do love all things purple and gold. Though, won't such a thing be quite expensive?"

"Expensive?" Harrold Arryn questioned, shaking his head. "Why, nothing can be too expensive of a gift for my valiant King."

"Just don't come to me saying you need your taxes relieved." I jested.

We hanged out for a while longer, before I went on to chat up some other people. My social battery lasted an eternity thanks to the wine, giving me the energy to strengthen relations with some of my greater lords.

"It's a shame, Your Grace." Tyrion stumbled against the table, piss-drunk with another full cup in his hand. "Why can't men share their appearance? You would find no trouble if you were half as handsome, and neither would I with that other half."

"A curious question." I chuckled. "If only that were possible."

"It's a foolish question." He laughed. "Have you thought of any matches for a handsome imp as I?"

"Not yet," I admitted, shrugging my shoulders.

"My brother would make a more fitting Lord of Casterly Rock." Tyrion mused, shaking his head. "Maidens would flock to him from Dorne to the North once they knew he was free to marry. I could be his little hand, guiding him and the Westerlands while I drink myself to an early grave."

"Cheer up, my lord." I patted his head. "So long as there is life, you may just find light in the tunnel if you keep walking forward."

"It's not so easy to walk with these stunted legs of mine..."

"No one's going to carry you." I shook my head. "On another note, have you considered seeing Ser Jaime?"

"My beloved brother? Why, of course."

"Then you might wish to join me on my journey North."

Tyrion accepted my offer, adding to the list of my companions.

~

As night fell and the feasting, drinking, dancing and singing began to come to an end, I decided to retire to my bedchamber. Arya accompanied me, alongside the Hound and Ser Arys Oakheart.

"Your bond with your sister reminds me of my own." Arya smiled, looking at me.

"With who, Robb?"

"No, Jon Snow. You've never met him since he joined the Night's Watch."

"Oh, him." I acted like I had no idea. "I've heard a little about him, here and there. Robb spoke fondly of him."

"When I was younger, I thought for a short time I was bastard-born like him, too." Arya remarked with a slight smile. "We looked the most like our father when all my other siblings had more Tully in them than Stark."

"You'll be reunited soon enough." I smiled. "I'll get to meet your other brothers, too. Six children, if you think about it... Lord Eddard was a busy lord in the bedchamber, indeed."

"Hard to blame him with Catelyn for a wife." The Hound added, rather bluntly.

Arya didn't take kindly to that remark, glancing back.

"How frightening." The Hound remarked. "A little wolf's glare."

"Stay your tongue, or the little wolf will grow and tear it off." I chuckled, jesting.

"If you had said the same, I doubt she would have looked that way."

"It would be quite inappropriate for me to speak of my future mother in such a way," I spoke, finally reaching my bedchamber. "Right... Ser Arys, if you would escort my lady."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"... How many children do you think would be ideal?" Arya questioned.

"A dynasty of a hundred sons... yes, that would be ideal!" I boasted, though it was a jest. "All shall be great warriors, my own personal household guard... a mighty force that would trample the world."

"A hundred..." Arya raised an eyebrow.

"When you become queen, Edric's bed shall be your new home." The Hound added, jesting.

"Though, in truth..." I chuckled, stroking my chin as I thought of children as something you could just pick up from the mall. "I'd want... three sons, not far in age so that they may rival each other and yet be the closest of friends."

"... No daughters?"

"Eh." I rolled my eyes. "What can I teach to a girl? I believe I'd do better as a father with boys."

Though, it seems fate has blessed me with a daughter instead...

"You won't know until you are the father of one," Arya remarked, turning to Arys Oakheart. "Goodnight, my betrothed."

"Mhm, goodnight."

She looks a bit more lady-like as of late.

Oh, right... Rhaerra and her mask. Where was she?

No matter, I'm too weary to chase for it.

I went straight to bed, looking at Raiden Shogun. Now, would Mr Targaryen swindle me as his fellow valyrian just did?

My question was answered as I fell into a dream.

...

I woke up in the hellish Plane of Euthymia once more, though there was a tree of cherry blossoms at the centre of it all. Except those cherry blossoms weren't quite pink, they were purple. The wind blew them all over. He sat on the ground, back leaning against the tree with harp in hand.

If Rhaegar Targaryen looked like anyone, it had to be him...

"There was a time, I used to look into my father's eyes. In a happy home, I was a king I had a golden throne. Those days are gone, now the memories are on the wall. I heard the sounds of the places I was born-"

Man's really singing 'Don't you worry child' to me...

"Is the reward you spoke of a performance?" I raised an eyebrow. To be fair to him, that man's voice was angelic... but not really what I wanted. It's like asking for a sword, and you get a Happy Meal.

"Be grateful, little stag." He remained seated. "The honour of hearing my voice is greater than any title you can comprehend."

"My apologies, Your Grace," I replied with clear sarcasm. "I must be uncultured."

"Indeed, you are." He chuckled. "Nonetheless, no, I was just having a little fun. I must commend you... that was an impressive show you put on. As promised, I shall grant you a worthy reward."

He created a picture-frame and tossed it to my feet. I raised an eyebrow, picking it up. It was a picture of Alysanne and me, both much older. There were seven others who shared our features. The Edric in that picture looked quite... fulfilled.

"That could've been you."

"..." Was he trying to anger me intentionally? "You're fortunate to be an omnipotent god."

"Oh, and if I were not?" He tilted his head with a curious expression. His wonderous violet eyes flared up. "Would you face me, little stag? I could grant you that wish."

"..."

"What's wrong?" He grinned. "You don't wish to be embarrassed in front of your beloved? That's fine-"

"Don't." Raiden Shogun warned.

"Let's do it."

"Most certainly." He drew the sword at his side and shrunk to my size. "Have your choice of weapon."

Since he wore no armour, I chose my sword.

As we clashed swords, I felt a gap wider than the universe. I couldn't even comprehend what the hell happened... my sword was parried, forced out of my hands and then I had both against my neck.

"The difference between Heaven and Earth, as they say." He mocked, kicking me to the ground and dropping my sword near me. "Don't let your triumphs over some mortals go over your head, little storm. You are no more than a light gust of wind to me, omnipotent or otherwise."

I frowned, feeling a surge of anger... yet I couldn't do anything about it.

"You are fortunate that I am a benevolent being." He sheathed his sword. "Chaotic, mayhaps... but-"

"I'll kill you someday." Those words came out of me, yet I knew there was no chance in hell I'd be able to.

"I'm counting on it." His unsettling grin reminded me a little of Dorian. "I love a good fight."

So, he's a fightsexual... small wonder.

I rose to my feet, dusting myself off.

"Nevertheless, I wouldn't have it said that I am a bully." The photo frame vanished as he spoke. "This world, in its entirety, is your reward."

"... This world?" I blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"The Plane of Euthymia... an improved, explorable, iteration of your glorified inventory space." He nodded, turning to Raiden Shogun. "You notice that someone is a little less transparent?"

I turned back, and Raiden Shogun no longer looked like a ghost.

"Ah-ah-ah." Mr Targaryen wagged his finger. "That doesn't translate to the real world; that would break our pact. In this world, alone, she is tangible. You can touch each other, kiss, cuddle, fight, practice... though it's all quite like having a dream. None of it affects your body."

"Hell, you could even have sex... hate sex is pretty fun, you know. Very spicy. I'm talking from experience, of course-" He stroked his chin. "Though, I should warn you, she is at full strength here. She might just break you like a KitKat."

"..."

"Alright, you two, have fun! Adios!"

He vanished into thin air, leaving just Raiden Shogun and I.