chapter 27

It had been a tumultuous few weeks for Bran. Lord Cafferen had previously confided in him that he'd sided with Stannis, only for the man to say that he could no longer do so. He had explained that a Trial of Seven had been held at Storm's End over the question of Cersei's infidelity and the status of her child. The side backing Stannis had lost, and now the Stormlands were declaring one by one for Joffrey.

Bran had been afraid, but Lord Cafferen had assured him that Myrcella Baratheon had promised to have him returned to his family. He had been confused, until the lord had explained that Myrcella was now the Paramount Lady of the Stormlands with Lord Penrose as her regent.

That had instantly made Bran feel more secure. Myrcella was brave, kind, and trustworthy. Everything about her was positively flawless; he had even heard servants in the Red Keep call her the 'perfect princess.'

As well they should!

Tyrek Lannister was happy with the news. Lord Cafferen did require Bran to see Duty kenneled. The wolf had acquiesced with little fuss. They continued their spars, finding in each other an even match. Tyrek enjoyed a reach and strength advantage, but Bran was tricky and had impeccable timing and accuracy.

"Damnation, Bran, how did you do that?"

Bran grinned. "Ser Barristan taught me that one; here I'll show you."

And Bran did just that. He loved his brothers, but Robb and Jon had always been distant due to age and Rickon too young. Tyrek, though, was a friend who had shared the hardships and horrors of the Kingswood. The boy had been arrogant when they'd first met, but had slowly changed.

"Lord Cafferen said my cousin would be here soon. Joffrey must be fuming that the Queen gave Storm's End to the princess."

Bran asked, "Why? He's the King now, so it isn't like he needed that castle to rule over."

"Joff will rule from King's Landing. He doesn't want Storm's End; he just doesn't want Myrcella to have it. He hates her."

Bran couldn't imagine hating one of his siblings. "Joffrey is a menace. He had Mycah murdered; I know it."

"Yeah, it was obvious. But you have to be realistic; the crown prince punished over a butcher's boy? I don't know how they do things in the North, but no one really cares about butchers' boys down south."

They should. Knights swore vows to protect the young and the innocent.

They went another round, and then another. There was little else to do, and it kept their minds from worrying. The uneasy reality was that their families would soon be on opposite sides of a war. Tyrek's cousin could be looking to kill his father or brother. Robb could be looking to kill Tyrek's uncle.

The time passed, and within weeks Myrcella Baratheon and a large company of mounted soldiers arrived. Bran was standing nervously next to Tyrek and Lord Cafferen when his eyes lit up at seeing Ser Barristan. The older man was wearing a gambeson with a Baratheon tabard instead of his usual armor. He was walking with a cane, though he kept pace with the others.

He saw Brienne of Tarth and then Myrcella. His eyes grew wide at her new look. Gone were the red and golds – now black was prominent with a golden deer. Gone was the dress as well – she still looked small, but her presence was larger than life.

Lord Cafferen knelt and said, "Fawnton is yours, Lady Baratheon."

Myrcella smiled and gave Tyrek and Bran a quick glance. "I see my cousin and Bran Stark are well; that is good. Thank you for keeping them safe after the disastrous events. Expect a great deal of supplies to arrive soon; my baggage train is quite large."

Bran watched as they exchanged some more pleasantries and agreed to feast that night in Lord Cafferen's hall. Myrcella bade Bran and Tyrek to follow.

"How is Duty?" Myrcella asked.

"He's fine, a little grumpy at being locked in the kennel, but he's still friendly."

"Excellent, if you believe you can keep him from attacking anyone, I have no issues with allowing him free roam."

Bran grinned. "T-thank you!"

Myrcella inquired after Tyrek's well-being and if either of them was injured. Meanwhile, Bran could barely contain his desire to ask so many questions. As the small talk continued, finally the dam burst.

"What happened in the Tower of the Hand? And the Trial of Seven!? Did Ser Barristan participate, is that how he got injured? Where is my father, and my sisters?"

"Bran," Ser Barristan spoke with a slightly disapproving tone.

Bran felt his face go grow hot. "S-sorry, Princess Myr… err L-Lady Baratheon?"

"Myrcella is fine; at court, Lady Baratheon is appropriate since my status of Paramount Lady trumps that of princess. As to your questions, well, the fight in the Tower of the Hand was awful. I don't have a comprehensive of list of casualties from your father's guard, but I do know of several who perished. Your father suffered a minor wound, but that should be healed by now. Your sisters and their direwolves were uninjured. Brienne kept me safe, and I was uninjured as well."

Brienne's cadence in her steps changed by a smidge when Myrcella said the last bit.

"The Trial of Seven was decided in favor of King Joffrey; again Brienne is to be commended for her skill. Ser Barristan did not participate in the trial itself but did assist in helping us pick the knights. He was wounded while fighting against the assassins in the Kingswood. The location of Lord Stark, Arya, and Sansa is not known to me; I would assume they are on Dragonstone or perhaps have already sailed to the North." She paused for a second, thinking, then continued, "I don't intend to send you by ship; instead I will deliver you in person to Robb's army."

Bran swallowed. Robb was leading an army. And he was coming to fight Myrcella? He had known that was reality, but he had resisted thinking about it too much. Ser Barristan and Brienne would be fighting against Robb and his father. He felt his eyes grow misty, and he couldn't believe he was about to cry in front of Myrcella!

Tyrek asked, "What about me? Am I going to King's Landing?"

"If our family has something specific in mind for you, I haven't been informed. I'll leave it up to you if you want to stay here in Fawnton, go back to King's Landing, or travel with me."

Tyrek answered immediately, "With you. I want to stick with Bran until he's returned."

Bran took a deep breath, "Myrcella, why is all this happening? You and my father can't fight – this isn't right!"

The Lady of the Stormlands met his gaze with compassionate eyes. "I wish it were otherwise, but as long as Lord Stark and my treacherous uncle claim that my mother bore bastards instead of trueborn children, we will be in conflict. I hope you can convince your father that war is not the answer."

Bran chewed on his lip. "But the Queen had the old King killed, didn't she? That is what everyone was saying before the Trial."

Myrcella shook her head. "That's another lie that Stannis is spreading. Ser Barristan can tell you that it was my Uncle Jaime who found him. Why would the Queen send out her brother to rescue the King if she meant him to die?" She waved her hand. "I've gone over this so many times, it grows tiresome. We don't know who was responsible. It could be my Uncle Stannis, which I believe but cannot prove. It could also be, as my late father suspected, a Targaryen loyalist plot, or it could be someone else with a grudge against him. House Martell likely hated him for not punishing his men for killing their princess."

Bran had known he hadn't had the full picture, but with Myrcella's explanation, those possibilities he hadn't even considered turned startlingly compelling. He didn't know how to fix any of it, or if it could be fixed. He knew his father had already bent the knee to King Stannis. It was an awful mess, but he would make the most of the time he had with Myrcella and Ser Barristan.

"Ser, can I show you a move I've been working on in the practice yard? Myrcella, do you want to watch me as well?"

Myrcella smiled at him, and his concerns melted away. "Of course, Bran, I would love to."

***

Kevan Lannister oversaw the sacking of Stoney Sept, Tumbler's Falls, and half a dozen other towns. Tywin's army was brutal. Many of the menfolk had already gone to answer the muster of the River Lords, so taking these places was easy. Many chose to surrender.

Women who the invading men took a fancy to were kept captive and used. Those that were too old or too ugly were sent without food or coin ahead of the Lannister army. They would be yokes for their enemies. Either they would be refused entry and cause bitterness, or they would result in more mouths to feed.

Tywin left nothing behind. Anything that could be used was taken, anything that couldn't or would be too burdensome was destroyed or killed. Homes and businesses were put to the torch when the Lannister army left. Fields were also destroyed; there would be no harvest for the southern bit of the Riverlands, even if they managed to drive out the invaders.

Some of the men, including the elderly who had not been mustered, were taken captive. Tywin had a use for them when they came across resistance. And there was some resistance. House Wayne had a stout keep and had held back a sizeable portion of manpower to defend.

Tywin gave them a choice. They could surrender immediately, and he would take their arms and armor as well as their supplies and let them loose. However, for each day that passed prior to their surrender, he would kill one man in ten. By gibbet, stake, or flaying. At first, they had boldly resisted. Tywin had 20 of the captured men from the towns arrayed in front of his army. He then had men with hammers break their knees and told them to crawl to the keep.

The men of House Wayn were horrified as they watched the poor wretches' crawl. Some gave up and just wept, others made it. They opened the gate a fraction and pulled them in.

"One in ten." Tywin promised. By the next day, they had surrendered. Tywin did kill one in ten as he promised, but he did not let the others go. They were used as the next example at Acorn Hall. Lord Theomar Smallwood had left with the bulk of his knights. Tywin had Lord Wayn drawn and quartered before the horrified keep. They resisted him the first night. The second day, he had twenty of the captives staked outside of bowshot range. Care was given to make sure they didn't die too quickly.

Kevan had thought that would make them surrender, yet it did not. Tywin was impatient and ordered the assault that night; the castle was small and not well defended. He gave his captives a choice, help take the walls or die by the stake. Nearly all chose to take part in the assault. They were broken men who were terrified of suffering the same lengthy demise. They made the first wave, armed with daggers and not even gambeson to protect them. They died in droves. After they died, the attacking force was too great to be deterred and the defenders had exhausted themselves in slaughtering the fodder.

After taking the keep, they found Lady Smallwood. Fortunately for her, she was from the Swann family. Myrcella had won over the Stormlands and house Swann's loyalty. Otherwise, Tywin would have likely sent her head to Riverrun to incense the River Lords. Word of their deeds had spread, yet it was shocking to find holdfasts completely empty. Seeing even Stone Hedge, the seat of House Bracken, one of the major Riverland houses, also abandoned shocked him. With the defender holding every advantage, even a significantly smaller force had the ability to withstand an attacker.

"Brother, they are husbanding their forces. I do not believe they will seek to fight us in the field until the North arrives."

Tywin was clearly annoyed; he had hoped to smash the Tully army as the first major stroke of the war. Without overwhelming numbers, it would be all but impossible to defeat a defending force in a fortress like Riverrun.

"Disappointing, but not a wasted effort. I'll set Amory Lorch to continue pillaging and then instruct him to delay Lord Tully. We will join ranks with the Stormland army. They will be in the Riverlands shortly. We'll fight the North and the Vale first together, but we must do it quickly."

Kevan nodded. He wasn't looking forward to having to deal with Ser Barristan Selmy at the head of an army. The man would certainly have some things to say about what they had done in the Riverlands. Despite that, it was a relief to have the Stormlands join them; with Tywin ordering half of the forces at Golden Tooth to reinforce the coast from the marauding Ironborn, they would have no reinforcements from the Westerlands anytime soon.

***

Eddard Stark gave his council to his King without hesitation. Melisandre had urged a sacrifice for good winds, but Stannis had denied her. Ned knew that at any point she could expose the secret to Stannis, but Jon was safe on the wall. He had replayed the conversation in his mind and realized that the R'hllor priestess had not even identified the babe as Jon. And even if she knew, Jon was on the Wall and safe. He would do what he could to protect Jon, but he would not be silent and allow her position to go unchallenged. If Melisandre had told the King anything, Ned had not been approached over it.

Stannis had left a strong garrison of 500 soldiers behind in Duskendale with ample provisions. The journey, despite the lack of sacrifices to R'hllor, went smoothly, and they soon arrived in the Saltpans. From there they heard more and disturbing news from the Riverlands.

Tywin had unleashed a wave of death and destruction that sickened all. Men being crippled and forced to crawl. Others left to die, impaled on stakes. Women raped, children butchered and fields burned. Everything but the stones themselves were razed in his march through the Riverlands.

Stannis had previously sent word to not confront the Lannisters in the field and to wait for the North to arrive, but Eddard wondered how much longer the River Lords could hold themselves back.

House Roote, Cox, Darry and Hawick had gathered and joined Stannis's army. They had been on the verge of marching to Riverrun when word reached them of Tywin Lannister's push north, and they had feared being caught out before they could link with the Tully force.

Between those houses, the Lords of the Narrow Sea, the sell swords hired, and the free riders who had joined them, the army had swelled to 12,000. His son was still marching down the King's Road with at least 17,000, which would put their numbers greater than Tywin's current field army. However, word had reached them that a Stormlands force under Ser Barristan Selmy was marching north, their numbers uncertain.

Not the whole army marched for the Bloody Gate, but he had taken 2,000 men to prevent any of the clans in the mountains from getting ideas of waylaying them. His King remained behind with Melisandre, which couldn't be helped.

When he arrived at the first battlements, he was surprised to see the banners of both House Royce and the personal banner of Lord Nestor Royce. As High Steward of the Vale, he had taken the sigil of a crescent moon behind a barred gate. In front of the battlements were thousands of soldiers, over half of them mounted. Nestor Royce and Bryden Tully rode out to meet with Ned.

The Blackfish met his eye and nodded in greeting. The two had gotten along well; his wife's uncle was a canny warrior of some renown. Nestor Royce was a big man, barrel-chested and with a thick neck that made Bryden look slight in comparison.

"Lord Stark, all the Vale is pleased that you escaped that nest of vipers with your daughters."

"Thank you, Lord Royce." Ned glanced at the banners and number of soldiers arrayed ahead of him.

"I see an army ready to march; why then has Lady Arryn not sworn for King Stannis?"

Nestor breathed out heavily. "The Lady Lysa is fearful. The death of her husband and then the King has made her wary. She dares not proclaim for Stannis out of fear for the Lannisters, but she cannot swear for the Lannisters, as she now believes they slew her husband."

Bryden interjected, "She's a changed woman, Ned. Something is wrong with her."

Nestor bristled. "You may be her uncle, but she is still my liege lady, ser."

Bryden just gave the lord a look that bordered on contempt, but did not say more.

"Then why have you gathered your banners?" Ned asked.

"While my lady fears to proclaim her stance, she has privately told me that she has no objections to me rallying my house and my kin's house in an act of vengeance for the slaying of Yohn and his sons. Lady Lysa believes that even in the even of a Lannister victory, she can simply say we gave her no choice." He paused and looked at Ned closely, "This stays between us, but she bid me to win glory and get vengeance for Lord Arryn. Should I do that, she intends to marry me."

Eddard raised his eyebrows. This was erratic behavior. Anything could happen in battle, but with the full might of the Vale, victory was much more likely. If she feared the Lannisters, why not fully mobilize. And to promise Nestor Royce her hand, he remembered when Cat told him that Lysa had not liked marrying someone so much older than her. Lord Royce was balding and with a greying beard.

"How many have you gathered?" Eddard asked.

"A full 5,000 between both houses and several others from other houses. While they cannot openly ride with us, Ser Gilwood Hunter, Ser Jaspar Redfort, and Ser Morton Waynwood and a hundred knights have answered the call."

Ned was glad to have them, but there was one wrinkle that needed to be worked out.

"You say that Lady Arryn gave you private leave to ride with us; will you swear to Stannis?"

Nestor looked uncomfortable and said, "No, but it matters naught. Once victory is ours, Lady Lysa will swear for King Stannis."

Ned wanted to sigh. Stannis would not like that. This whole conflict had changed course more often than Eddard was comfortable with. Riding back with 5,000 instead of 35,000 was a blow to be sure, but at least they had some aid from the Vale.

The travel back on the High Road was quick. Bryden Tully privately shared with Ned that something was seriously wrong with his niece.

"If anything, I was being too hesitant before. She's mad, not at all rational. And the way she treats her son… When this war is over, something must be done."

Another trouble for Eddard to worry over; they seemed to be piling up. It was as if all the Seven Kingdoms were fraying at the seams.

When Eddard arrived back at the Crossroads, he presented Lord Royce and Ser Bryden to the King. Ser Bryden immediately knelt and swore fealty, much to Lord Royce's consternation. The knight blustered a bit and finally said, "Your Grace, Lady Arryn has not given me leave to swear fealty to you, but my sword is yours to command this war, as are my men."

Stannis ground his teeth. "You admit Joffrey Waters is a bastard but do not swear yourself to me?"

"My loyalty is House Arryn. I will not be moved on this; if you don't wish for my sword or my men to help you win this war, I can ride back to the Bloody Gate."

Stannis looked thunderous. Eddard spoke up, "Your Grace, should we win, I have no doubt Lady Arryn will recognize you as King. She is a widow lost in grief and despair; some soldiers are better than none."

In a rare moment of agreement, Melisandre also added, "All will recognize you as Azor Ahai come again, one day. I advise patience for these unbelievers to understand what you are."

Bryden Tully had a look of incredulous disbelief on his face and muttered something under his breath. Royce just waited nervously for Lord of Dragonstone's response.

"So be it, then. I'll have your sword for the duration of the war. After which you and Lady Arryn will bend your knees, or I will pull the Vale down around your ears and attaint you as traitors."

The King then turned to Ned. "Ser Barristan has sent a rider; they mean to return your son Brandon Stark to you and are asking for safe passage of a small contingent to travel and deliver him here."

Ned felt a surge of hope fill him. "What are they asking for in exchange?"

"Nothing," Stannis replied, his eyes boring into Ned's, demanding an explanation.

Was Stannis suspicious of him? He had sworn his family and all the North to Stannis. Had Melisandre already revealed her visions? The King seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"My son squired for Ser Barristan. The Princess Myrcella also told me she would try to see Bran safely returned to me."

Bryden Tully was looking between Stannis and Ned, deep in thought. Royce just seemed relieved he was no longer being interrogated about his lack of an oath to Stannis.

"Mercy from the lions who are ravaging the Riverlands?" Melisandre asked in a soft voice.

Eddard's own temper was starting to fray. "What would you have of me then? All they are asking is for a small force to safely return my son to me?"

"They will know our numbers and disposition. It could be an attempt to pin you and my army here until they arrive. The outriders do not report that Tywin is moving east yet, but that does not mean he isn't." Ned went to respond, but Stannis continued talking. "Yet you have offered me leal service, and I would see your son returned to you. I would also greatly like to speak with any of the Stormlands who ride in that party to explain themselves to my face. Passage is granted; so long as they fly the flag of truce and do no harm to us, they will be allowed to pass."

***

After securing Bran, my army returned to the King's Road up until half a day's journey to King's Landing. There we made a detour around the capital. My army had reached the size of 12,000, and our supplies were in good order. The Stormlands were more forested than most of the other seven kingdoms, and so I had a rather strong scouting force that I used to aggressively screen my advance north through the Crownlands.

Ser Beric was travelling north with 7,000 in a secondary army, made up of the Marcher Lords. He wouldn't catch up for some time, and depending on how things would go, I may have him focus on retaking Duskendale. From what we'd gathered, Stannis had retreated from that critical port but left a sizeable garrison behind.

We also knew the rallied North would soon be entering the Riverlands. Battle would soon be joined, and I aimed to ensure that I was able to link up with my grandfather before. Reports of what he was doing in the Riverlands bothered me. It was a transparent ploy to push the River Lords into a foolish battle, but it was so transparent that it almost certainly wouldn't work. Meanwhile, the cost of human resources squandered through butchery was immense.

Not to mention the heinousness of what he did to his captives. If he did those things, it would only be a matter of time before our enemies would respond in kind – savagery begat savagery. War was an ugly, horrible thing, and there was no reason to make it even worse than it already was.

It also made it so much more difficult to resolve the war. Stannis likely would not stop until he was dead, and should he fall, it had to be palatable for the Riverlands, the North, and the Vale to come to terms. Tywin was not making that easy.

On the brighter side, Ser Barristan's leg had mostly healed, or at least healed as much as it was likely to. Sadly, he would never be the nigh-unmatchable fighter he had been on foot. The leg just couldn't handle the same maneuvers, and he would likely always have a slight limp to his gait. That said, he could now wear plate armor again, and on horseback he was just as deadly as before, as he could still squeeze the horse with his legs just fine.

He had nominal command of the army, though I could overrule him at any time. We talked about various strategies and the purpose for the shovels, and he was impressed with the idea and its feasibility. Ser Barristan was not considered a great military tactician, but he had seen more wars and battles than nearly anyone alive. That made him respected, and he was intelligent. Though sometimes he was quite the mother hen.

"Lady Myrcella, there is absolutely no reason for you to go in person."

We had received word from the scouts that Stannis and his army were nearby. It was smaller than it should be, which made me wary. Where were the rest of the Vale forces? Caution would be prudent, and yet I intended to personally deliver Bran to Lord Stark. Uncle Stannis had already agreed to allow a small force to escort Bran to the Crossroads. Frankly, I was curious. I wanted to get a feel for more of the terrain and see the opposing army personally. I also wanted to see if I could tease out why there were so few Vale forces.

"The risk is minimal. Uncle Stannis and Lord Stark have reputations for honor, and they have granted safe passage."

"That doesn't mean some enterprising young fool won't take an opportunity to attack before are you even in their presence!"

"A few fools may try, but I'll be well guarded, and there won't be that many fools willing to defy King Stannis's and Lord Stark's honor. Ser Barristan, I understand your concern and laud your desire to keep me safe, but this is also an opportunity to see if my uncle can be made to see reason. As low as the odds of success are, I should try."

Ser Barristan's face was resolute, but he had sworn himself to me; he had no choice but to accept. He did demand I take the rest of the Stormguard with me, to which I agreed. In addition to that, I took Ser Bonifer Hasty and his Holy Hundred. I didn't want any of my Stormlords to have a chance to speak with Lord Stark. Besides Ser Barristan and Brienne, Ser Bonifer was by far my biggest advocate. The way he spoke of me was disturbing, but there was no chance that Stannis or Stark could sway him with words. I was the Seven's will made manifest through 'holy trial' after all.

We rode well ahead of my force and flew two large flags of truce. I rode in the middle of the formation, which would make it difficult for anyone to spot me with all these annoyingly average-sized humans around me.

When we camped, Ser Bonifer would lead his men in prayer, and I started to deeply regret my choice. Putting that out of my mind, I worked with my Stormguard and began laying out my expectations for them in the future.

"Me," Ser Theo began, "lead an army in battle? My Lady, I'm a simple knight. I know how to fight, and could lead a charge, but not command an army," he protested.

"Not yet," I replied. "But one day. My Stormguard will not be just bodyguards – you will be extensions of my will. When you speak, when you lead, it will be my will you carry out. I don't expect you to do this right now; we have Ser Barristan and other experienced lords to lead us. I want to discuss some basic tactics I've learned from Ser Barristan as well as handed-down wisdom from ancient books that the Maesters have kept."

The concepts I shared were not grand, but it was a start. Other than that, I also spent time with Tyrek and Bran, who were inseparable. The two knew they would likely not see each other again until the war was over, and it was by no means certain they would ever cross paths even then.

We made good time, and as we approached the crossroads, we were met by a large group of men greatly outnumbering us flying a banner I had not seen before. A flaming heart with a stag in the center. It wasn't Stannis who led this group of men but Ser Axell Florent.

"Who commands here? And do you have the Stark boy?"

Ser Bonifer was in front. "I have that honor, and yes, we do. Come forth, Brandon Stark."

Bran advanced forward, and Ser Bonifer stated, "I was instructed by Lady Baratheon to deliver him personally to Lord Stark."

"Good, because the King wishes to speak with you as well. No one is to draw steel in the King's presence. You will address him as 'Your Grace'."

It had been expected, and I had instructed my knights to concede that meaningless courtesy. So far, they had not spotted me, which suited me fine. The more off-balance Stannis and Eddard were, the better.

As we crossed the next minor dip in the road, the army of Stannis Baratheon came into focus. The Lords of the Narrow Sea, some Riverland houses, and the Royce banners from the Vale greeted us. Stannis, Stark, a man who could only be the Blackfish based on his heraldry, Nestor Royce, and a woman all in red rode out to meet us.

Ser Bonifer inclined his head. "Your Grace, I am here to return Brandon Stark to his father, as instructed by Lady Myrcella Baratheon."

Bonifer patted Bran's shoulder, and Bran moved forward with his horse and Duty by his side. Lord Stark looked relieved and dismounted to pick up Bran off his horse and embrace him.

Stannis looked to Bonifer, "You have been granted passage to deliver Brandon Stark and then return to the rest of your ilk. Before you go, explain what madness has taken you and the Stormlords."

"Madness? You speak of madness when you cavort with this Lord of Light blasphemy?"

The woman in red let out a laugh. My senses were tingling; there was something about her… hmm, my mind wandered back to the little test I had given would-be recruits to the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. My eyes widened; she was using some sort of illusion. And it was exceptionally good; had I not gone through that whole charade back in my second life, there was no way I would have ever suspected, even with all my other magical experience from my second life. Who was this?

The woman spoke, her voice pitched perfectly to be heard clearly. "Blasphemy? The Lord of Light, the God of Flame and Shadow is real, unlike your Seven."

Ser Bonifer bristled, but Stannis spoke up. "I'm not here to discuss the Gods but the oaths you have violated. I would have your reasoning, ser."

My knight turned his gaze to my uncle. "We owe our allegiance to Robert Baratheon's true heir. You claim him false. We besought the Seven to guide our path, and through the holy Trial of Seven, it was proven that Joffrey is trueborn."

Bryden Tulley scoffed, "And who fought in this trial? Did you find seven green boys to fight and then declare your cause holy?"

Ser Gladden Wylde of my Stormguard pushed forward and removed his great helm. "There was no mummery; half the lords were unconvinced of Joffrey's parentage. I and my brother as well as other doughty knights of the Stormlands gave it our all. The Seven were not with us, because King Joffrey is Robert's son."

Ser Bryden looked at Gladden. "So you say; your reputation precedes you, ser; I'll not doubt that you fought in truth."

Uncle Stannis looked like his clenched jaw would shatter the teeth in his mouth.

"You gambled your honor on a melee? Forsake your sworn oaths for a centuries-old tradition that has now happened but thrice in all the Seven Kingdom's history? I am disgusted with the lot of you." Stannis's look of contempt did not bother Ser Bonifer one whit.

The woman in red spoke up again, "The Lord of Light has blessed King Stannis and has shown him to be Azor Ahai reborn. Your Seven are naught but false gods, behold, look at the sword of fire he wields!"

Stannis drew his blade, and it shone with red, yellow, and blazing white light. I was once more stunned and glad that no one had seen my shock. This was magic, and I was dealing with another magic user. As I studied the sword, I concluded that it was, again, some sort of illusionary formula. The air around the blade was not distorted with heat, and the colors did not seem to relate to temperature.

My knights looked uneasy; even Brienne shifted uncomfortable in her saddle.

Can't have my people fearing magic swords.

I rode forward, "Uncle Stannis, I have never seen a blade like that!" I pitched my voice so it sounded excited and even awed.

Stark's head whipped around to look at me, and Stannis looked at me in surprise as I brought my horse forward, past my Stormguard and past the little no man's land of 15 feet that separated our parties in this parley.

"Myrcella? What are you doing here?" Stannis asked bewildered, sword still in hand, though not in any way threatening me.

I continued to advance. "I haven't seen my uncle in some time, and I promised Lord Stark that I would work to reunite him with his son."

Ser Bonifer called out, "Lady Baratheon, step away; don't get closer to that abomination!"

I glanced back with a completely unworried smile. "Abomination? You mean his pretty sword? It won't harm me; this is a parley, and Lord Stark would never allow my uncle to break his word."

Ser Bryden grunted to avoid laughing at my insult. Stannis actually growled, and I was now within touching distance.

"May I get a closer look at the sword?" I asked but didn't wait for a response.

Stannis looked uncomfortable, completely thrown by my appearance and my approach. He hadn't been holding the sword high, so I was able to reach and grasp the blade lightly.

"Careful…" he said, still unnerved.

Brienne shouted, "Myrcella, don't…" and then her voice cut off as she saw me touch the 'blade of fire' with my bare hand and not get burned.

Ser Bonifer bowed his head. "Not even the flames of hell can touch one blessed by the Seven!"

The woman in red gazed at me with startling intensity. I gave her a placid smile and released the blade.

"Thank you for indulging me, uncle." I turned away from him. "Lord Stark, it is wonderful to see you are well. I hope you have recovered from your injury."

He nodded. "I have recovered, and I thank you for returning my son."

"Of course. And is that Ser Bryden Tully I see? Your reputation precedes you. I've always been fascinated by your moniker. Blackfish – one day I'd love to hear the story of how it came to be." Before he could answer or anyone interrupted, I moved on, "And Lord Nestor Royce, I grieve for the loss of your kin. I am told they died protecting my father to the last."

He also seemed flummoxed. "Thank you, Your Grace, err, Lady Baratheon."

"I'm sorry to hear you believe my uncle's version of events. I would have welcomed the man who was entrusted with the Vale as a wise peer who could give me advice on the stewardship of a kingdom."

Lord Nestor Royce had been Steward of the Vale when Lord Arryn served as Hand for nearly two decades. His chest puffed up. "It is kind of you to say so, but I go where Lady Arryn leads."

I smiled. "And where does she lead? I see the mighty houses of Royce and Royce are here, but where are the others?"

Nestor began to open his mouth, but Ser Bryden talked over him. "Don't be a daft fool."

I grinned at the Blackfish. I'd have to be careful with that one; he was sharp.

Stannis barked out, "Enough of this. Myrcella. I know it must be hard for you to believe Cersei would do something so abominable, but your brothers are not of Robert's flesh."

"So sayeth the man who would inherit, were it true," I reply, an edge of sharpness in my tone.

"You think I wanted this war? Or even the Iron Throne? It is mine by rights, and I have a duty to the Seven Kingdoms."

"I don't know what to think, uncle. I know that you left your post as a member of the Small Council, and shortly afterwards, my father was assassinated. I know that no claim of infidelity was made until my father's body had cooled. I know you gathered sellswords before my father died."

The red woman interjected, "The Lord of Light saw a calamity would befall King's Landing and that his reborn champion was needed on Dragonstone. All one needs to do is look upon Joffrey Waters and see that he is no son of Robert Baratheon."

I point to Bran, still next to his father. "He looks like Lady Stark more than Lord Stark, and yet I do not doubt Catelyn Tully's honor and faithfulness. She welcomed me at Winterfell, was kind, dutiful, and honorable. Have we come to the point where we doubt parentage when a child favors one parent over the other? But we have not been introduced; what is your name?"

"I am the Melisandre, servant and priestess to the Lord of Light."

"I'm a bit rusty on my ancient fables – I confess I never gave those old Essos religions much time in my studies – but didn't Azor Ahai have to quench Lightbringer into the heart of Nissa Nisaa? Has my uncle been stabbing women with his new sword?"

"Impertinent child, Azor Ahai is reborn amidst salt and smoke, and Lightbringer with him. There was no need to quench it again."

"Oh, so no need to betray the one closest to him to temper the sword – how fortunate that he did not have to stab it into the heart of the one he had pledged his oath of loyalty and fealty to in order to acquire his glowing sword."

Melisandre blinked, and Stannis let out an almost hiss-like sound. "You imply that I was the one who slew my brother?"

"Not in person, no," I reply.

"Lady Baratheon," Lord Stark spoke, "you were there in the Tower of the Hand with me. You know your mother was responsible."

I inclined my head. "For the attack on your person, yes, I freely admit that. It was a tragic misunderstanding; she thought that you were the one who sent assassins after my father. She was wrong; I know you would never do such a thing, Lord Stark."

Stannis finally recovered some wits and realized that the longer the conversation went, the worse he looked. Many of his knights and petty lords beyond the important individuals I was talking to were hearing the entire discussion.

"I'll not bandy words with you any longer, Myrcella. You've a clever tongue, but I suggest you return to King's Landing. The battlefield is no place for a child."

Parley done, I bid them all a polite farewell, taking a moment to wish Bran safe travels back home. I then gave one last glance at Melisandre and rode off with my men back to camp. Ser Bonifer was looking at me with even more disturbing reverence than before, and Brienne was just muttering about children and touching cooking fires.

***

Jaime was anxious to leave King's Landing. Not so long ago, the idea of being separated from his twin for some time would have been a loathsome thought; now he practically longed for it. His sister had been beyond furious with him for lying about Myrcella. He had not had the pleasure of her sweet body for months now; it was driving him mad since he had to see her every day.

Tyrion and Addam were the two people who kept him sane. Tyrion gave him advice on what to do as Hand, but he was often overruled by Cersei, who now demanded every decision pass through her. He had no purpose on the Small Council, and he was eager to be out in the field, doing what he did best.

His sister didn't want to strip King's Landing of any of its defenders. The Gold Cloaks may have increased their number substantially, but they could not hold up against an army. Stannis had set sail from Duskendale, and no one knew where he would strike next. Cersei was deathly afraid of an attack on the city by sea. Jaime knew that if that was his intent, they would have already landed and attacked earlier, but there was no convincing her.

Their father had sent instructions to Cersei to have Jaime return to King's Landing and continue his duty as Hand, which confused them both. Getting reliable word to Tywin while he was in the field to get clarity on just where he thought Jaime had gone to wasn't as easy as just sending a raven. Nonetheless, it meant that Jaime wasn't to take the field, which was damned wasteful in his mind. No one was better with the sword than him; just seeing his golden sword in the front of a charge would dishearten the enemy. But no, he was to sit and do nothing of worth, while having to watch what he wanted most in the world be denied to him.

Cersei strode into the Small Council with a triumphant look on her face, Ser Mandon Moore following in her wake. He took post at the door while Cersei sat down. Varys, Littlefinger, and Pycelle were already seated.

"I have just won us this war," Cersei announced.

"How was this done, Your Grace?" Littlefinger asked.

"Ser Loras has finally agreed to swear fealty to King Joffrey in open court. It has taken some time, but he has finally broken."

Varys tittered, "An apt description, but one that I hope Your Grace does not use outside this chamber."

"Of course not; I'm not a fool."

"Is he even presentable to the court? A half-starved, disfigured man will not win us the Tyrells," Jaime asked.

Cersei glared at him. "He will wear a glove with cloth stuffed in the missing fingers. His face has not been marred."

Littlefinger tapped his fingers idly on the table. "I assume you don't intend to release Ser Loras; his father will not take the maiming of his son well."

"Ser Loras will be returned well after the war is done with. Once the Tyrell armies have brought Stannis down and they have sworn their oaths, it will be over. They may object, and we'll offer a few heads of the gaolers who were overzealous in their anger, perhaps even imply they were working for our enemies. It matters naught; when all the realm has proclaimed Joffrey King, the Tyrells will be trapped."

Jaime wasn't so sure about that, but what was done was done.

The old, decrepit man wasn't so sure either. "Your Grace, Ser Loras is but a third son and has effectively been a hostage. It, ahem, may, ahem, be a stretch to believe the Tyrell swords will join our cause simply due to Ser Loras's oaths."

Cersei pinned him with a glare. "Grand Maester, perhaps your age has clouded your vision. Mace has always fawned over his precious knightly son. He will bend his fat knees to our cause; you shall see."

The council heard other news that made Cersei less pleased. Myrcella had refused to return to King's Landing, nor had Ser Cortnay Penrose relinquished control of the Stormland army from Ser Barristan's care.

My sweet sister trusts him not.

"I am the Queen Regent, and this is the will of the Small Council, and he dares deny us?"

"The treason of Stannis has upended the natural order of things, Your Grace," Varys answered. "The Stormlands have always been stubborn, and my little birds report a fanatical loyalty to him and Princess Myrcella. Stories of the Trial of Seven have captivated the imagination from Nightsong to the Red Keep. The Stormlands are as united now as the North is behind the Starks. To attempt to call him to heel, at this juncture, would not be wise."

Littlefinger nodded. "Our Master of Whispers speaks true. Stories multiply and exaggerate; this Trial of Seven has become quite wild. Some versions claim that Myrcella herself participated! It is to our benefit that these tales be allowed to spread, as Stannis has taken up with a foreign religion."

Cersei kept her face even, though her eyes flashed with irritation. Jaime knew that she did not like being reminded that the ploy Myrcella and he had concocted, that she had disapproved of, was continuing to bolster their cause.

"Since we cannot correct him now, he too will be dealt with later," Cersei announced, putting an end to the discussion. The Small Council made the preparations for Ser Loras's oath of fealty to Joffrey at court the next day. All the nobles within King's Landing were to attend and bear witness.

The following day, the throne room was filled with Crownland nobles. The coughing Gyles Rosby was next to young Lord Buckwell. Behind them was Lady Stokeworth and her daughters. Ser Balman Byrch was jesting with Ser Dontos, who had a wine cup in hand despite no servants providing drinks. Various landed knights and minor nobles from the Westerlands that had come with Ser Addam also filled the crowd. The fat High Septon was present, surrounded by a bubble of members of the faith. Jalabhar and his feathers went from group to group, speaking easily with them all.

Jaime, along with Ser Preston, Ser Mandon, the Hound, and a dozen Gold Cloaks escorted King Joffrey and Queen Cersei. The royalty and the Small Council took their seats, and the petitions began. They listened to a few unimportant, at least to Jaime, requests, and then Ser Loras came to the front and knelt before the Iron Throne.

He looked a bit ragged despite the finery he wore, but walked confidently. If he was a broken man, he hid it well. Jaime had questioned Varys what had been done to him. Apparently, he had been deprived of food for a time, had faced the lash on his back, lost two fingers, and had some of his toenails pulled. Hot irons had been pressed into his ribs. The mummery with the glove hid his maiming, and Jaime wondered which fingers were lost and how it would impact his ability to fight.

"Your Grace," Ser Loras began with a steady voice. "I know I cannot speak for my family, but I wish to speak for myself and be clear on where my loyalties lie to the entire court. May I do so?"

Joffrey nodded magnanimously. "Yes, Ser Loras, the crown wishes all true knights to proclaim who they serve."

Ser Loras rose and turned to face the court. In a smooth motion, he stripped the glove off his right hand and showed his missing fingers.

"JOFFREY IS A BASTARD! HE HAS CONSPIRED TO FORCE ME WITH THREAT AND ACT OF MAIMING TO BEND MY KNEE. I REFUSE; I STAND FOR STANNIS! I STAND FOR…"

Jaime listened on with horror; Cersei shouted at the Gold Cloaks, and they grabbed at Loras, who continued shouting.

"THE QUEEN KILLED RENLY; SHE KILLED ROBERT," he was hit by one of the Gold Cloaks and went down.

"Gag him!" Cersei yelled.

"TREACHEROUS BITCH, MURDERER, HE WILL…" the Gold Cloaks had him on his knees and succeeded in stuffing cloth into his mouth; he kept screaming from underneath the gag but was now muffled.

Joffrey stood up, utterly enraged. "SER ILYN, I'll have his tongue – no I'll have his head! Bring it to me."

Ser Ilyn advanced, and Jaime moved, barring his path.

"No." Jaime simply said.

Joffrey yelled out, "Out of the way! I have given a royal command, or do I have another uncle who has turned traitor?"

Jaime looked at his King. "You are the King, but not of age. The Queen Regent will decide."

Varys took that moment to interrupt. "Tempers are high; perhaps we should adjourn and discuss what should be done about this lamentable treachery."

Cersei began to speak, "Yes, we should…"

Joffrey interrupted her. "NO! I AM THE KING!" Joffrey drew his sword and advanced, putting the tip on Jaime's golden breastplate. The whole room was suspended in disbelief. Jaime looked down at Joffrey with a languid expression. He had no fear that Joffrey could hurt him; his face was exposed, but his reflexes would allow him to dodge any strike the, average at best, 14-year-old could muster.

Cersei called out, "Joffrey, no, put away your sword."

The King looked at his mother. "I will not allow treason to go unpunished under my rule."

"It is not your rule yet, boy." Jaime snarled. He shouldn't have said that, but the frustration and anger over the last couple of months made him unable to guard his tongue.

Joffrey grew pale, and his sword trembled a moment. Something flashed in his eyes, and he pulled back before swinging at Jaime's face. Jaime stepped back smoothly, but too late realized that that was Joffrey's intent. Ser Loras was only steps away, still on his knees and held by the Gold Cloaks, and Joffrey spun toward him, raised his sword, and brought it crashing down in a diagonal arc, slashing into the neck of the Knight of Flowers.

It only took a moment for Jaime to reach Joffrey, who was raising his sword for another swing, to grab his arm and wrench the blade away, but it was already too late for Ser Loras. The blade has cut into his neck, and his blood was spurting out uncontrollably.

"I am the KING!" Joffrey screamed as he tried to pushed Jaime away. Jaime hauled him away as he snapped at the other Kingsguard to help escort Joffrey away to his room. The whole court was screaming; he had seen Lollys vomit, and she had not been the only one. Joffrey was still demanding to be released when they finally got him to the chambers.

"You idiot boy, do you have any idea what you have done?"

"I have executed a traitor, and you'll be next."

Jaime looked at Joffrey in absolute disgust. "You remind me of the Mad King. I'll speak with your mother, but for now you remain here, and none are to listen to your insanity."

The Hound had followed them and looked on as they closed the doors.

Jaime looked at him. "Your services aren't needed at the moment."

"I'm his sworn shield and what – King's Champion is what they call it now?"

"I don't care, dog. You've already proven to be prone to listen to Joffrey at the wrong time, so you are to stay away from him."

The Hound was about to speak, but then thought better of it and stalked off.

Jaime left the two Kingsguard with strict instructions not to allow anyone to see the King save for him or Cersei, and they were certainly not to do anything he ordered them to do. He stalked off and cursed. He had to talk to his sister and figure out just what in the seven hells they were going to do now.