chapter 14

Ser Davos Seaworth had no difficulty anchoring in as a merchant ship. His Lord had commanded him to be circumspect and while every one of the crew doubled as fighting man, he was the only knight among them. The lads were loyal, not that they knew why they were here in the first place. Davos respected Lord Stannis but he wasn't keen on his current task. He didn't like the murky nature and the uncertainties that existed with it.

The harbor was crowded, the Tourney of the Hand would begin soon and the already massive population of the city had ballooned even further. Yes, there was violence due to the crowding but it wasn't truly dangerous for someone like Princess Myrcella and yet the Red Witch had stated a calamity would fall upon the Baratheon line.

Ser Davos being a practical man had wanted details. Melisandre had not given them. Instead, she had said, "Put your faith in the Lord of Light and all will be well." He had pressed Stannis for details and got a bit more. Stannis said that the visions pointed to a time of momentous change and of bloody betrayal. He had advised him that Jon Arryn was likely murdered by the Lannisters due to uncovering some treason, a treason that Stannis did not specify with Davos.

His orders were simple. If the Red Keep or the city looked to descend into violence that could lead Princess Myrcella to harm, he would try to smuggle her out and get her to Dragonstone. Never mind the fact that the Red Keep was a fortress and he had but 30 fighting men at his command. He had sent his son Allard into the city and try to keep an ear to the ground on potential dangers. So far there had been little to report.

Robert's rule seemed as steady as ever. Feasting and tourneys and the bounty of summer all around, it was hard to see what danger existed. Davos had no tuck with witchery, foreign gods, and strange priestesses but Stannis believed Melisandre had power. If Stannis believed some great calamity was to fall upon the city, then he would be here and ready to act or until he heard word otherwise.

For that he would need a way into the Red Keep. He had been given some gold to help with bribes and other costs. His first task would be to learn as much as he could. Find out how many guards there were, the best entrances, and more. So far it continued to look more and more an impossible task.

He had learned that the two younger children of Robert had also been assigned sworn shields. That gave some credence to Melisandre's predictions, was there a threat that the King or the Small Council were aware of that required more security for the children? He had not heard anything specific yet and outside of a few wild rumors there was nothing to be learned. Wild rumor such as the Starks's had brought direwolves to the city and that the Queen thought they would maul her children. Direwolves!

Davos paced the deck, worrying and waiting. He wished his path were clearer.

***

Arya's training was hard. Balancing for hours, chasing cats, and learning about muscles she never knew existed was exhausting. She loved it, it gave her purpose and she was improving. Syrio even said so! Best of all Nymeria was able to join her for lessons. It was unfair that they couldn't take their wolves with them freely. At least in the Tower of the Hand Nymeria was permitted everywhere.

Today would be special. As a reward for catching a particularly difficult cat she would be able to finally spar with the wooden blades again. They had not done so since the first day because Syrio said she wasn't ready. That alone was thrilling and on top of that, the Princess Myrcella was going to watch her training! Myrcella had doubted her ability to fight because she was a girl and she was going to prove her wrong today. Girls and women could fight, and not just the giant ones like Brienne.

She arrived at the appointed time with Nymeria and Myrcella was waiting for her with Brienne at her side.

"Hello Arya," she looked down at the wolf, though with the way Nymeria was growing the princess may not be able to do that for long, "Nymeria."

Nymeria sniffed Brienne and evidently, she was met with approval as the wolf licked at her hand. The wolf also sniffed Myrcella but turned away and back to Arya. She never understood why Nymeria didn't seem to take to the princess. Maybe she ate or drank something that gave off a smell that only the wolf could sense? Or maybe it was their first interaction?

"Hello Myrcella, are you ready to see what I've learned?" Arya grinned.

"I'm looking forward to it. Brienne you can guard here I'll be fine inside alone."

Brienne frowned but just inclined her head. "Understood."

Arya liked Brienne; she was everything she wanted to be. A strong warrior woman. Had she not been training with Syrio she would have immediately begged to be trained by her. Syrio was amazing and he kept her busy and sore enough!

As they entered the Small Hall Arya asked Myrcella, "Why didn't you want Brienne to come in with us?"

"I wasn't sure you wanted others knowing that you are training with arms, given the way you keep referring to this as dancing lessons."

"Oh, well your sworn shield can keep a secret, can't she?"

"I've only known her briefly, she seems loyal, dutiful and listens to my commands. I'm very happy with her service, but I guard my friend's secrets closely," Myrcella answered.

Arya nodded, that made sense. She saw Syrio and a bumble of nervous energy filled her.

"Syrio, I wanted to introduce you to my friend Myrcella."

Her 'dancing master' was slight of build and bald. He clicked his teeth upon seeing her guest. "Girl, you say you wish to bring a friend, not the child of the King. Is your father knowing of this?"

Arya looked uncertain. "Uh, I didn't ask him, you said I could bring a friend and she's a friend!"

Myrcella stepped forward and inclined her head slightly. "I can keep silent. I was already aware Arya was receiving arms training. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Syrio."

Syrio looked at the princess for a few moments and then nodded. "You are welcome then, princess." He looked to his pupil. "And you will be telling your father."

Arya squawked. "She's princess? And I was called a boy and now just girl?"

"You are learning the dance; the princess is not."

Arya chewed on her lip then nodded. "Oh, you are saying that because I am your student you don't treat me like a high-born lady but since she's not your student you still need to observe the proper customs."

"Just so." Syrio nodded with approval.

"You may call me Myrcella, now I'll take a seat here and observe. Arya is very excited to show me what she has been learning."

Syrio tossed the heavy wooden blade to Arya. Arya had held it several times, often until her arm ached holding a stance, and now its weight was much easier to handle. Syrio gestured with his hand for Arya to begin and moved into the sideface stance that was intrinsic to water dancing. Arya mimicked his posture and glided forward with a thrust.

Syrio slapped it aside and struck out toward Arya's arm. Arya's footwork was good and she danced just out of range. Forward again, this time with a slash to the body that Syrio deflected and returned the blow, this time to be parried. Arya grinned as she backed up and Syrio advanced. She was keeping up with him!

She parried, thrust, dodged, and danced. For several minutes this went on and then Syrio caught her in a set of parries that put her out of position and tapped her chest with his sword.

"Dead."

Arya took a breath. "I've gotten so much better. Did you see that Myrcella, I almost had him?"

Myrcella smiled at her. "Good job!"

Syrio clicked his teeth. "Dead girl is bold. Again."

Arya danced forward and then her sword was on the ground and her fingers were stinging and the sword was once more pressed to her ches.t

"Dead." Syrio backed up a step. "Again."

Arya grabbed the blade, got into sideface, and started again. This time she saw the blow and retreated but Syrio flowed forward and she couldn't back up fast enough and ended up tripping over her own feet.

"Dead. A girl is too confident and most learn to be as swift as a dear."

Arya was angry now. She thought she was making progress and now had tripped under own feet while Myrcella was watching! She hit the ground with her fist and stood up.

"That won't happen again."

"No, it will not. You will be practicing your foot work. Back walk all the way to the wall, quickly but with sureness. Go."

Arya backpedaled, careful and quick. She would not fall again. When she got to the wall Syrio rotated his finger and Arya turned to face the wall and then backed away toward the far wall again. Halfway there Syrio swung at her and she flinched and put her hands up… and fell. The blow never landed but she was once again on the ground.

The youngest daughter of the Hand growled in frustration. She felt as clumsy and dumb as her needle work lessons. Once again, she was being watched and no doubt judged for her failures, nothing ever came easy for her. She scrubbed at her face trying to hide the angry tears that were starting to form.

"Dead girl is distracted."

Arya heard Myrcella's voice. "I fear it is my fault. I apologize for the intrusion."

"No, its fine! I'm so much better than before! He's just pushing me harder because he's annoyed I brought you along."

Myrcella nodded in response. "You are much better Arya; you are quite good. Your reflexes have improved and your stance mirrors your instructor's marvelously. You've been learning for less than a month, I'm impressed."

Arya felt a burst of pride and looked at Syrio. "Do you want me to continue?"

Syrio nodded and Arya went back to her swift backward movements. To the wall and back. To the wall and, there Syrio moved to strike and Arya did not flinch and took a nasty blow to the shoulder for it. That would bruise.

Every hurt is a lesson.

"Dead girl should not allow herself to be hit. Like water, flow. Continue the dance without falling while avoiding the strike."

On the lesson went until her legs ached fierce. She did manage to dodge and stay upright while moving. She was sweating profusely when Syrio called for a break and allowed her water. Arya was breathing heavily as she sat next to Myrcella.

"See? I'm getting better, I will be a fighter and not some stupid lady like Sansa."

Myrcella raised an eyebrow. "Your sister is following the path her parents laid out for her; you shouldn't diminish her for doing so."

Arya grumbled. "All right fine, her being a lady isn't stupid. But you see now that I'm going to be a warrior and fight by my brother's side." Arya paused as Myrcella didn't retort right away. "You should join me." Arya felt the urge to have another girl with her. She prided herself on being independent but it had been isolating to be around Sansa and Sansa's friends, never having one of her own. She thought she could convince her father to have Syrio give lessons to Myrcella too and… she was shaking her head.

"I'm sorry Arya but this is your training, not mine. I have many other duties and I think mother would take issue with my desire to hunt cats across the Red Keep." She smiled; it was a smile that Arya thought was meant to be comforting but her smiles were always… off. "And besides I have Brienne to guard me."

Arya looked down glumly.

"I will make time to observe your training when I have availability."

That made Arya feel a bit better, but she wasn't ready to give up. "I bet if you tried it, you would have fun! You don't need to do all the lessons just some of them. We can spar sometime even when Syrio isn't around."

"You will not be doing that." Syrio corrected.

"But why?"

"You are not ready for the teaching of others. A girl can have bruises, a princess cannot."

Myrcella spoke up again, "Arya, it is your dream to be a warrior. It is not mine. It is Bran's dream to become a Kingsguard, that is not your dream. It was Jon's dream to be in the Night's Watch, that is not your dream. Every person has their own desires, and in a more ideal world everyone would have the ability to compete for the position they most desired. My point is that my lack of desire to be a warrior, hacking and slicing at people, does not diminish your aspiration. We just hope for different roles in life, I tell you truly from the bottom of my heart, I never want to be on anoth… on any battle field."

Arya sighed but nodded. He could see Syrio's gaze inscrutable, on the princess.

"Dead girl has had enough rest."

Arya bit back a groan from her protesting muscles and readied herself.

***

Sansa was overjoyed at the pageantry of the tournament in honor of her father being made the Hand. Her father had expressed dismay over breakfast at the cost of the tournament. She wouldn't let that deter her from enjoying it to its fullest.

Even better yet the Princess had decided to leave the area the Royal Family typically sat to sit with her and Jeyne! Rosyn Lannett and Eleyna Westerling had also joined her. Eleyna reminded her of a brighter Arya. Someone who was unladylike at her core but took measures to be presentable and not embarrass herself. Rosyn was more ladylike but had a sharp tongue. Myrcella though was perfect as always. Her golden hair framed her face seamlessly. She always felt too tall and ungainly in her presence but Myrcella was always kind to her despite her bumbling Northern ways.

"Is your sister joining us Lady Sansa?"

Sansa shook her head. "No, she's busy learning how to dance."

Myrcella smiled. "Dancing is an important skill."

"But she's missing the tourney!" Sansa exclaimed, she could not imagine anything being more important than seeing the most chivalrous knights battling for honor and glory. They had come from all over Westeros. From the Vale, the Reach, the Stormlands, Westerlands and more. Even from far off Dorne, the only group not present was that of the Iron Isles. It was better than all the songs, nothing could have prepared her for this magnificent event.

They watched at the knights paraded about. Septa Mordane was with her and commented on how the riders for the North looked poor and paltry in comparison. They only had three riders. Jory, Alyn and Harwin.

Rosyn agreed with the Septa, "The last good tourney knight from the north was Ser Jorah Mormont, I recalled he disgraced himself somehow but I don't recall the details."

Sansa recalled the name too, someone her father disliked. Myrcella knew more though. "Instead of providing proper justice to poachers he was selling them as slaves. If he had been caught, he would have been executed or if Lord Stark was feeling generous given him the option of the Wall." Sansa was yet again in awe of Myrcella's knowledge and composure. Just thinking about something as ill as slavery made her shudder.

"Who do you think will win Myrcella?" Sansa asked.

"There are many exceptional knights. My Uncle Jaime is always a contender. The Clegane brothers and their sheer size make them formidable. Ser Barristan and Ser Arys of the Kingsguard are excellent with the lance. From Highgarden comes Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, he defeated my uncle to take the win in a tournament earlier this year on Joffrey's name day. It will be one of those six unless there is surprising newcomer."

Eleyna asked, "What about Brienne?"

Rosyn sniffed at that remark. Myrcella didn't acknowledge that and instead answered Eleyna. "Brienne shared that she isn't exceptional with the lance. She will also participate in the Grand Melee and believes her chances are significantly better there."

Soon the King announced the start of the tourney and the first tilt was on. Ser Jaime against Ser Horas Redwyne. Unlike the other members of the Kingsguard he did not wear the normal white armor, instead his was golden. It glinted in the sun and reminded her of an older version of her golden prince Joffrey. He had been distant since the horrid events near the Trident and she hoped she would be reunited with him soon.

The Lion of Lannister rode brilliantly and unhorsed Ser Horas with ease. Jeyne Poole gave a scream and clutched Sansa when the two had clashed and missed Ser Horas being unhorsed! Sansa was proud of herself for not screaming, she was a Stark and made of sterner stuff. Then two hedge knights fought and then a match between a Frey and a Royce. On the fourth bout, the North took the field. Alyn from her father's guard. It was Jason Mallister clad in indigo armor chased with silver who would be his opponent. Septa Mordane pointed out that he was a renown warrior from the Riverlands who had cut down three of Rhaegar's bannermen on the Trident.

Sansa held little hope for Alyn and was sadly correct as the guard was overmatched by a true knight.

The matches continued and blood was spilled. The first of it was Ser Renly against a hedge knight of no known renown. The man was tall but his armor was not clean nor well maintained.

"My Uncle Renly will take this tilt; I am sure of it." Myrcella predicted.

The two rode and Renly's lance struck true on his opponent's shield. His opponent however had difficulty bringing his lance in line and instead it had struck Renly's horse in the chest, the poor beast had been struck a mortal blow and Renly fell from it as the poor steed panicked in its death struggles. The commoners jeered and booed, Renly was popular and to see his beautiful steed felled in such an uncouth way caused great anger. The King's brother was wroth as well and loudly accused the hedge knight of striking his horse on purpose.

Robert stood up. "Enough Renly, your fury is up and that's well and good to see but accidents happen." He turned to the hedge knight. "Be glad I'm not the old Mad King otherwise you'd be executed. Get out of the city and don't you dare enter the lists against until you know what you are doing."

The man knelt and thanked the King gracefully and left the field.

Jeyne looked pale but asked, "Who won then since they both fell?"

Rosyn sighed. "Lord Renly did of course. Even if he hadn't unseated the pauper knight, you aren't allowed to aim for the steed."

Sansa wished the Lannett wasn't there but she would not allow her to spoil the mood. This was a grand tournament and she would enjoy every second of it.

More matches took place and they got to see the Knight of Flowers. He rode in a circle and gave a white rose to a nearby Lady who nearly swooned. He was up against Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard. Ser Loras rode beautifully and his lance struck square on Ser Meryn's shield. Ser Meryn's own lance was slightly off its mark and Loras easily kept his seat. Ser Meryn barely hung on and they went for a second tilt. Again, Loras was a streak of silver and white and this time dumped Ser Meryn on his back.

"He's so beautiful." Jeyne's voice rose in awe. And Sansa could only agree. She would certainly root for Jory but in her heart, she hoped the Knight of Flowers would win it all. The Hound defeated his opponent and then the North took the field again. This time it was Harwin against Myrcella's sworn shield, Brienne of Tarth.

Some of the commoners hooted and jeered at the idea of a woman in the joust. If Brienne heard them, she did not deign to acknowledge them. Brienne was on a massive horse and she herself was much bigger than Harwin. They came together in a clash and Harwin flew off his horse and rolled to the ground. Sansa feared he was injured but he limped back up and gave Brienne a short bow.

"Her lance placement was poor," Myrcella added, "hopefully she'll correct it when she faces her next round."

Then came the Mountain that Rides. Sansa had thought the Hound was huge, the younger Clegane seemed average in comparison to the great beast of a man. Which was hard to fathom as the Hound towered over most. Jeyne squeaked at the sight of him. The knight's horse was already breathing heavily just from carrying the weight of him. His opponent was a young knight of the Vale.

As they crashed together, Ser Gregor's lance rode up and struck the knight under his gorget. It drove through his throat with such force that it pierced his neck and killed him instantly. It was not 15 feet from where Sansa sat, the shiny new armor he wore now marred with blood that still pumped from the wound.

Jeyne began weeping hysterically. Myrcella moved to her side and tilted her head away from the grounds.

"Shh, look at me, yes what happened was awful but they are cleaning it up now."

Jeyne sobbed and shook.

"Listen to me. I want you to breathe in for me, for four seconds. One, two, three and four. Now hold that breath in your lungs for another four seconds. Good, now breathe out and count in your head, four seconds. Good, Jeyne, very good. Wait to breathe in for another four seconds, now repeat. One, two, three and four." Myrcella spoke firmly and softly; the voice commanding yet soothing.

Sansa's friend stopped crying and had wiped her tears before the next bout. For herself she felt numb, as if it what happened couldn't possibly be true. She reminded herself she was the daughter of the Warden of the North; death was tragic but it happened and a lady had to be clam and poised at all times. Like Myrcella.

The match had Tommen's sworn shield, Ser Guyard Morrigan against Ser Boros. Ser Guyard looked resplendent in his armor and defeated the Kingsguard knight with ease.

"Ser Boros used to be better, unfortunately he seems to have gotten a bit lazy about maintaining his combat prowess." Myrcella said with a disappointed voice.

Eleyna giggled at that and Septa Mordane frowned but kept silent.

Ser Beric Dondarrion drew Jeyne back into the joy of the joust. She thought him the most handsomeness knight there. Sansa admitted he was dashing but he was also old, he was already in his 20s! If it made Jeyne forget the horridness of the dead knight, she would be happy to cheer for the him as well. He won his match with comfortable ease.

On the jousts went. The thunder of hooves and clash of knights continued. The sun had already begun its downward path when the first round finished. A servant brought refreshments and Myrcella kindly waited for everyone else to drink and eat before she did.

Disaster then struck, the last rider for the North was paired against Ser Barristan! Sansa knew the North wouldn't win the tournament but to have all three knocked out in the first round was shameful. Like she and everyone else predicted, Barristan took down Jory in one pass.

"Well now we know what the North is worth these days." Rosyn remarked.

Myrcella looked at her handmaiden and spoke softly. "Apologize to Lady Sansa and Lady Poole for your crass remarks or I will see you dismissed from my service."

Rosyn looked taken aback. "I… meant nothing by it, it was but an off-hand remark."

Sansa felt Myrcella's gaze on Rosyn, even not directed at her it was a dreadful thing. The air suddenly became thick and it difficult for her to breathe.

"It was a jest, you wouldn't dismiss me over something so minor."

The princess just stared at her. Jeyne, Eleyna and even Septa Mordane were still.

"The Queen summoned me from Lannisport, she wouldn't let you just dismiss me over this."

And still she stared.

After a few more moments Sansa saw a tremor in Rosyn's hand and a look of fear fell over her face. She turned away to face Sansa. "My deepest apologies Sansa." Then she turned to Jeyne. "I am very sorry Jeyne."

Sansa mumbled her courtesies, not daring to do more. A second later Myrcella smiled. "Thank you Rosyn, I do appreciate your courtly manners."

And just like that the tension was gone and everyone turned back to the jousts. All seemed forgiven, though Sansa did not hear Rosyn speak again for the rest of the day.

The next round began with the Knight of Flowers against Ser Preston Greenfield of the Kingsguard. Sansa and Jeyne cheered for him and he proved the valor of the Reach was true indeed. He unhorsed Ser Preston on the first tilt.

Myrcella's Uncle Renly was up next. He had a new horse and had even had his armor scrubbed. It was bright in the sun and he waved to the crowds who roared in approval. His opponent was Tommen's sworn shield, Ser Guyard Morrigan. The two raced forward and crashed together, Renly was then falling off his horse.

Despite the loss Lord Renly did not seem upset. Instead, he roared. "Ser Guyard of house Morrigan, a TRUE knight!" The crowd roared and showered Ser Guyard with their adoration. The knight nodded to his liege lord and gave his own wave to the crowd.

"Ser Guyard is quite good." Eleyna remarked with a grin. "We'll have visit Tommen sometime soon."

The Clegane brothers also advanced, completely overpowering their opponents. They seemed to be unstoppable. Ser Arys unhorsed Thoros of Myr and then Sansa saw Ser Barristan match up against Lady Brienne.

Eleyna shook her head. "Ill luck to draw Barristan the Bold so early."

"Yes, ill luck." Myrcella echoed, thought something was different in the way she said it but Sansa did not voice her curiosity.

Brienne and her steed were larger than Ser Barristan and his. She kicked her horse forward and aimed her lance while the veteran knight did the same. Barristan's lance was placed perfectly while Brienne's was slightly off again. Wood shattered and Brienne reeled, nearly falling from her horse. A fresh pair of lances were provided and once more the they raced at each other.

Brienne struck true this time, yet it did not dislodge the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Brienne though, fell and the crowd cheered, Barristan the Bold was a favorite. Sansa thought it was impressive that Myrcella's sworn shield managed to force more than one pass and said as much.

More jousts and more rounds. Time seemed to stand still for Sansa as she chattered with Jeyne, Myrcella, and Eleyna. The Hound seemed invincible, riding each opponent down with ease. Ser Loras passed within feet of her, she sighed seeing his handsome and refined features. He gave a rose to another high born near her and she felt a stab of envy despite her betrothal to the prince. His match against Ser Arys went to two tilts but it was obvious he was the better rider.

Jaime Lannister continued winning as did Jeyne's favorite Ser Beric, until the two matched and Myrcella's uncle took the victory. As dusk began to set in, they saw one of the Clegane brothers finally be vanquished. Ser Barristan did him in and with pinpoint accuracy. The big man yelled something not fit for polite company and stalked off in a rage. With the light practically gone and excitement still for the crowning of the winner, the King announced they would continue the final rounds in the morning.

The four finalists were Ser Jaime, Ser Loras, Ser Barristan, and the Hound. The Hound was matched against Ser Loras and the two final Kingsguard knights were to fight each other.

Sansa recalled Myrcella's earlier prediction. "I just realized; you were correct about who was going to make it to the end!"

Myrcella inclined her head. "Once you've seen a few, it becomes easy to predict. Unless someone truly exceptional comes along you will always see either one of the Kingsguard, the Clegane brothers and now Ser Loras as the final contenders.

The moon was high and the tourney grounds was now turned into a feast laden celebration. Six massive aurochs were to be cooked along full course meals. The seating arrangements were surprising to Sansa. The King and Queen were on a raised dais and to their left was given a place for Sansa and Septa Mordane. This was a high honor! Myrcella and her handmaidens were sat next to Tommen on the right side. Sansa waved them goodbye and was stunned to find Prince Joffrey sitting to her right.

"It has been too long without your company my lady." He took her hand and kissed it gallantly. Arya and Bran hated him but they were just children and believed he ordered the boy' death, Mycah, she believed it was. It had been a horrible accident and if anyone's fault it was the Hound's.

Sansa smiled sweetly, so pleased that Joffrey was by her side again. He looked so handsome with his blue doublet student with a double row of golden lion's heads. He looked every inch the prince that he was.

"I have missed you." She replied.

Joffrey asked her about the joust and if she was well after seeing the Vale knight die in the joust. When she nodded her head, Joffrey praised her for being brave. He even fed her a choice portion of meat personally; it was the grandest night to follow up her grandest day.

"Who do you think will win tomorrow, my lord?"

"My uncle most like, and in a few years when I am old enough to enter the lists, I shall win them all." Joffrey boasted, and Sansa could believe him. Despite being but four and ten he already had a man's height.

The magic was unfortunately spoiled by the King and Queen arguing. Sansa knew it was wrong of her but she sometimes hated the old fat king. He was crass and rude and openly fondled other women. Even Myrcella had quietly agreed he did not act very kingly at times. After their public argument about the King participating in the melee it was time to go. Septa Mordane would normally escort her but she was fast asleep on the table next to her.

"Would you like an escort?" Joffrey asked.

"Oh yes, please." It was quite the walk back to the city proper and then the Red Keep. The Gold Cloaks patrolled rigorously to and fro the tourney grounds but trying to find her way on her on was intimidating.

"Dog, come escort my beloved back to her chambers."

The Hound appeared out of the night air like an apparition. "Come along girl."

Sansa stood frozen for a moment, he scared her and while she knew Joffrey's sworn shield would not harm her, she didn't want to go into the night with him. Thankfully Myrcella also appeared with Brienne at her heels.

"You should not be without protection my sweet brother. I am heading back as well and Brienne will be ample protection for us both."

Sansa saw Joffrey's face twist in a brief rictus of rage.

"A woman as an escort for my betrothed? Don't be stupid, sister." Joffrey's features smoothed and now he just looked noble and aloof as opposed to angry.

"If you feel you are secure, then Sandor I suppose we will be travelling with you."

The Hound grunted and they were off. Sansa could tell the Hound had been drinking, he still moved with a deadly air about him but his steps were not quite as sure.

Myrcella filled the silence with talk of the tourney. She congratulated Brienne in winning her first match and pointed out the errors in accuracy of her lance placement. It was not done in a cruel way; it was helpful correction like her mother sometimes did for her when she was learning how to put together outfits.

"What the seven hells are you on about? When did you become the jousting master?"

Sansa was taken aback at the tone and words the man spoke. This was the princess! Myrcella though did not miss a step.

"I am observant and have witnessed more tourneys than Lady Brienne has. Did you believe my advice was in error? Please instruct where I have erred, I am always eager to learn."

The Hound snorted. "Piss on all those words, I have no more for you."

"Watch how you speak to the princess." Brienne interjected.

The Hound barked a laugh. "Or what? You stupid cunt, you think you can take me?"

Brienne stepped forward and Myrcella raised her voice for the first time. "Brienne! Tell me how well am I protected while you bicker with the Hound? If I need someone's mouth shut and require your assistance in doing so, I will inform you."

Sansa saw Brienne's jaw clench but she inclined her head to her charge. "Not very well princess, forgive me."

The scarred man laughed again as they continued. They made their way through the gate and into the Red Keep. The Hound stopped at the Tower of the Hand and left them. Myrcella and Brienne escorted her to her room. Lady greeted her and despite the late hour she knew she would not be going to sleep soon. What a wonderous day!

***

Eddard Stark had been feeling good for the first time since coming to the capital. He and Ser Barristan had managed to trick Robert into believing he would be allowed to win the melee. Robert cursed them but had ended up not putting himself at risk. Afterwards they had watched the jousts. Ser Barristan had gone seven tilts with Jaime and neither had been unhorsed. Robert had been pleased to award the win to Selmy over Jaime, the look on Cersei's face had been more than murderous. Ser Loras had gone on to defeat Sandor Clegane and the finals had no Westerlands competitors, an apparent rarity he had been told.

Ser Loras ended up beating Ser Barristan but it had been a close thing. The Tyrell lad could ride. The Grand Melee had seen Brienne triumphant. The Lady of Tarth was ferocious as any he had seen. She did not fight with the elegance of Ser Author Dayne, Ser Barristan or the other best knights of the lands. No, her fighting was savage aggression, the punch with a gauntlet, the shoulder check after a parry, at one point she even tackled Thoros off his horse. Robert was in high spirits and good humor overall. He was in his element at the feast cheering the Tyrell lad and Brienne. The Lannisters seemed to have vanished and all three of his children were smiling and happy.

All seemed well until Lord Varys arrived. The man had come disguised to meet with him well past the midnight hour. The conversation had taken twists and turns that had honestly made his head spin. These intrigues of the South were not meant for him. Varys had admitted he knew of a plot to kill the King in the melee and he followed his convoluted logic that trying to warn the King would have just made him more stubborn about competing.

From there the Master of Whispers had explained his own precarious position and how Robert did not hold a man like Varys in high esteem. Accusations made that would anger the Queen would lead to his death as the realm had little love for eunuch spy masters. Once more, Ned could see the logic of his words. He himself did not hold Varys in high esteem and he doubted many did.

And then learning that Jon Arryn was poisoned by the tears of Lys and the only potential person who had knowledge of what had happened that was within reach Jon's now dead squire. Ser Hugh who had been killed by Gregor Clegane. That was no coincidence. It was too much.

He had three children in this nest of vipers and he had no true allies here. Oh, Renly seemed pleased to have him as Hand but the man cared more about his fine clothes and japes than taking his position seriously. The Master of Coin had offered to have dinner with him but there was bad blood due to the duel between Brandon Stark and Petyr, he could not bring himself to trust him.

Pycelle was fully a Lannister creature. Ser Barristan was a voice of honor and reason but would be of little use in uncovering plots and delicate intrigues. Stannis should be here but was not, which also alarmed him. He needed to understand the lay of the land, he needed to make use of Varys despite his distaste for this.

"Lord Varys, if you speak true, I need to know more of what is going on. I need information, and information I can act on before a potential source of information is slain." Eddard gave him a hard look. "I need knowledge, who is loyal to Robert, who is loyal to the Lannisters? What schemes are being concocted, how can I best waylay them. Why specifically was Jon Arryn slain after sixteen years of being the Hand. If you are loyal, you will inform me of all you know."

Varys eyebrows rose a fraction. "All I know? That will take quite some time my Lord, and not all knowledge is useful and may even be counterproductive."

Eddard had enough of these games. "I am the Hand; Robert is the King. Your role is to provide information, not decide what we should and shouldn't know."

The man was silent for a moment. "Shall I tell Robert his brother is a sword-swallower?"

"What?" Ned asked in confusion.

"Yes, the Paramount Lord of the Stormlands is more interested in men, than women. Is this useful information to the King? What would the consequence of it being known that Lord Renly and Ser Loras of Highgarden have been having a tryst? Tell me Lord Stark, what would Robert do with that information, and would it serve the realm? What will you do with the information?"

Ned's mind was a whirl. He would never have suspected, and thinking on the spymaster's words he knew Robert would not take the news well. Much of the Seven Kingdoms followed the faith of the Seven and the Septons spoke out against those sorts of relations. More importantly Renly's own bannerman would lose respect and throw into question the future of the Stormlands, would Renly ever marry and have an heir? And if he did and his peculiarities came to light would his trueborn sons carry the potential stigma of being bastards? And would Robert keep it a secret, even in his cups or if he and his brother quarreled? Ned's head was pounding. This was the sort of information that Varys held and kept from the King and as much as he would like to say he was wrong for it; he could see why.

"Who else knows?"

"Difficult to discern my Lord." Varys gestured with his hands. "My little birds know more than any faction in Kings Landing but I am not the only one who traffics in whispers. Our friendly Master of Coin has the second largest network, and quite a good one given men's usage of his brothels. Behind him is the Queen and her spies. The Tyrells also have a presence, but one of little note though they are attempting to rectify that with haste."

Gods, how many plots and schemes exist here?

And now he knew. And the information was useless, all it could do was harm House Baratheon. Was he better now knowing this? Or was this a scheme by Varys, what truly were his loyalties? He couldn't trust anyone here. It would be better to know than not know and it would give him a chance to test said loyalty.

"I don't have time for these games Varys. I need information, if knowledge of that information will discomfort me or even cause me harm, it is my duty to Robert and to the realm shoulder that burden."

Varys made a humming sound. "If you insist, but as I stated there is so much information, this will likely take some time. Where would you like to start?"

"The Royal Family, anything you know about them."

"The Queen has many spies and the King's squires are fully loyal to her not to the King. As you may have seen, the King mistreats them, mocks them, and belittles their efforts. I'm told he wasn't as bad on the journey back south as normal but there is deep resentment there."

Ned shook his head in irritation. Robert was a believer that squires needed to be put through the paces to build character but there was a line and while drunk he did not doubt his longtime friend stepped over it. Lannisters were prideful and any mockery sent against them would destroy any potential loyalty. It was not good to have the King's squires to be so set against him.

Varys continued. "Joffrey is not a dutiful prince. His courtly manners are tolerable and observes his courtesies in formal court. He rides and sings well and those are the extent of his talents. He has no head for sums, is barely literate and with arms he is mediocre at best. He is cruel and the servants are terrified of him. He has a fondness for killing and once presented the King with a dead cat and her unborn kittens.

Eddard listened in mounting horror. Just what sort of monster had he betrothed his daughter to?

"The boy hates his sister and views his younger brother as contemptable. He does seem to desire praise from his father but he listens to his mother in nearly everything. It is almost certain that the tragic events on the Trident was Joffrey ordering the Hound to murder the poor boy."

Eddard took a drink. "What is to become of the Seven Kingdoms with someone like that as King?"

Vary sipped from his cup as well. "Precisely why I do all within my power to see Robert remain alive and as King. Do not judge me for keeping secrets that will only harm his reign."

The Hand closed his eyes in despair. He could not have his daughter marry such a monster.

"I must call off the betrothal."

Varys shook his head. "You must not. It would not serve the realm and perhaps there is time for Joffrey to be taught better. Perhaps not, the betrothal can always be called off at a later date. But to do so now will only sharpen the knives and lead to conflict."

He stood and pushed his chair away and began to pace. Varys was probably right. Declining the honor of the match would be insulting, if Robert didn't dismiss him over it, he would be viewed as weak. It would also raise questions on if Sansa had been disgraced. The accursed games of the court did not allow for simple solutions.

"What else?"

The eunuch continued. "The princess is quite the opposite. Like Joffrey she has the courtly manners, courtesies, and aplomb to conduct herself well. Unlike Joffrey, the servants view her fondly and she knows them by name. She dotes on her younger brother and seeks to be a friend to all. She is sharp witted, well read and gifted in near every subject. A dutiful child, though lately she and her mother have been quarrelling." Varys took a pregnant pause. "And yet for all her positive qualities she has a Lannister guard regularly precure illicit substances including Nightshade."

"What? Why?" Why would a child of one and ten be stockpiling deadly poisons? The child who all his own children viewed as a confidant and trusted friend.

"Alas, even my little birds are not omniscient. I doubt any in all the realm would ever expect her of using poison, why just the thought of it would be madness. Likely making her the perfect person to deliver."

"Did she…"

"Oh no Lord Stark, it wasn't she who poisoned Lord Arryn. She didn't have the opportunity and my keen-eyed little birds have never seen her with the tears of Lys. Until recently she has never had any interest in poisons. Why, it wasn't until you became Hand that she developed an interest."

What was he implying? Was he suggesting Myrcella meant to use the poison against him and his family? But why? What was the possible motive? Was she her mother's catspaw? Someone else's? Was she working with Renly, it was Myrcella who had pushed to have sworn shields be given to her and Tommen.

"I see I have given you much to ponder. I suggest Lord Stark that we meet again in a few days. Be kind enough to tell me who you want information on and I can prepare my thoughts. Would that be acceptable?"

Eddard nodded. "Yes, yes. Give me information on the Kingslayer, Stannis and Baelish. I want to know the risk of Jaime becoming a regicide twice over, I want to know why Stannis left and I need to know why Baelish has so many spies and what his goals are. Can you provide that to me?"

Varys smiled. "I live to serve Lord Stark." And with that the enigmatic frustrating man left Lord Stark to his troubled thoughts.