Chapter 30: Edge

Joanna:

"It is a sound plan, my lady."

"I'm aware," She regarded Maester Desmond who stood before her. Grey was beginning to seep into his black hair. He had recently trimmed his beard. It made his face look thinner. "After all, I was the one who came up with it," She pointed out wryly.

Desmond smiled, "You were, my lady." He kept his hands in front of him. They were clasped and still. "However, I understand your precaution," He said, "I respect it."

She tilted her head to acknowledge she had heard him. "Do we know when we should expect them?"

"A fortnight?" the maester guessed, "Mayhaps, a little more?" His chains rattled as he moved, "It depends on the bird and the waves."

"It does," She went over to her desk. Joanna had made a copy of the letter she had sent to Lord Quellon Greyjoy. She would let her husband read its contents when he returned. Tywin had already given his blessing to pursue the Iron Islands as a potential ally. She suspected he was hesitant, but his trust in her outweighed any uncertainty he may have with the Ironborn.

Joanna knew little of Quellon Greyjoy, but knew enough to know that he was different then some of his predecessors. In the past, Ironborn ambition was carried out at the point of a sword and on their longships, but not him. Lord Quellon brought maesters to the Islands and was trying to encourage more trading and marriages with the other kingdoms to strengthen his people instead of reaving.

Tywin when he gave her his blessing had written what he knew of him. They had spent some time together during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, her husband respected the man. However, he could not forget that it was Quellon's ironmen who sacked Faircastle during his father's reign. So his words had been both complementary and cautionary of the Lord Reaper of Pyke.

"There have been some successful alliances between the Westerlands and the Ironborn, my lady," His fingers were curling around some of his chains to stop them from tinkling while he moved. "King Harmund Hoare took a Lannister as his wife and queen."

"He did," She had no more daughters to give and Quellon was already married as were some of his sons. "Our past alliances with the Iron Islands is but a few drops of ink in a sea of blood."

"Different times, my lady," Desmond said respectfully. "Those were different men," he said, "And ladies."

"These may be different times, but it will lead to the same thing," She did not want to say the words aloud, but the last few letters she received from her husband all but confirmed what was coming on the horizon.

The Crown Prince is trying to sever our betrothal with Prince Daeron. He is trying to steal Summerhall from us.

The anger roiled in her stomach. She had thought Aerys was the only fool of his brood, but it would seem he had been generous enough to pass some of it onto his eldest son. Upon that first disconcerting letter Tywin had sent her she had written back immediately. Telling him of her thoughts and plans as well as ensuring she would wait for his blessing before she'd continue. He did, so she went to work.

It was clear now that Cersei would've been wasted on Rhaegar, the fool that he was just as Joanna, herself would've been wasted on Aerys. She was pleased to see her daughter had found a betrothed who respected her. Joanna had little doubts about the union prospering between Cersei and Prince Daeron. And the few she did have melted away once she found out he had gifted her a sparring sword and his blessing to use it.

"That will be all, Maester," She smiled, grateful for his attending her. He took his dismissal with a bow, leaving the Lady of the Rock to her thoughts on what to prepare and expect for what was to come.

We will be ready, She would not allow Casterly Rock, the Westerlands, or her family itself be caught unprepared. It was why she was reaching out to the Iron Islands. She was waiting to hear back from Prince Doran too.

The Crown Prince appeared to be trying to make his moves and she was prepared to make hers.

Did he truly think we'd accept this insult like some tamed house cat? That we'd allow him to take what was ours? She remembered he was fond of the ruins of Summerhall, Perhaps, he should visit the ruins of Tarbeck and Castamere to see what happens to those who think them better, to those who thought to attack the Lannister lion.

"What do we have here?" Joanna was not surprised to find her youngest in the castle's library.

The library of Casterly Rock was in an old and large cavern. It was no longer a place to mine gold and other valuable minerals. Its dirt walls were replaced long ago by bookshelves. This was a place to mine information and knowledge to dig into books instead of soil. It was near three stories in height with various galleries above them which included more bookshelves as well as tables and desks. It was held and supported by a series of tall pillars. Some of the older ones had runes etched into them. A spiraling steel stairwell was planted near the center of the cavern, spinning upwards to connect the various floors. In the metalwork were lions ascending upwards.

Her Tyrion was reading at a table all to himself. He had picked a secluded spot with his only company, a small lantern and a pile of books. One of them looked worn, and faded, but she could still manage to read the inscription on its cover. It was one of the volumes of their family's history.

He gave her a sheepish smile when he looked up to greet her. "I'm sorry."

She soothed his obvious worry when she pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That you're late to your lessons?"

He nodded, but was looking down to hide his guilty look.

"You got distracted." It wasn't a guess or a question. "What was it this time?" She took one of the chairs to move it closer to him. When she sat down she saw some dust had coated itself on his tunic. She brushed it away.

He pointed to what he was reading. "I'm trying to find them the perfect name." He was so desperate and determined to help them any way he could.

Joanna smiled at her boy's thoughtfulness. He was so anxious to meet his baby nephew or niece. Maester Desmond told her that Tyrion had asked several questions on the subject of childbirth and pregnancy including if there was a to tell if the baby was to be a boy or girl.

"What have you found so far?"

"We have a lot of Gerolds," His mismatched eyes looked up at her, "and Lancels."

"Yes, we do," She moved her seat closer so she could better read the page he was on.

Gerold the Great, She read, then skimmed what followed, which included his raid on the Iron Islands and how he returned to the Rock with more than a hundred hostages.

"Do you like any of them?"

His face scrunched up a little before shaking his head. "I don't think Jaime would name a son, Gerold. He would say its an old man's name."

"I think you're right." She was just as certain Jaime would be making the same face Tyrion was if that name was suggested to him and Elia. "I think that's enough for now," She said gently before closing the book over her son's soft groan. "It's not as if you won't be back here." Joanna turned to see if he would argue her point.

He gave her another one of those cute, but shy smiles before dipping his head to hide how right she was.

It made her laugh. She leaned over to kiss his hair which always made him happy. "You must also not allow distractions to keep you from your duties, Tyrion."

"I know," His guilt appeared genuine so she didn't continue.

"There are more to names than just books of the past." Joanna knew that Elia and Jaime were considering several choices, some of which were not even Lannister names.

"I know," He was quick to agree, but slower to get out of his seat. His short legs made it difficult with the chair so high.

"Let me help," She took his hand, he took it after only a brief pause.

His feet touched the ground. "I could've done it."

"I know," She combed her fingers through his hair, "However, I'm glad you let me help you."

"Why?" He frowned in confusion.

"Because, my son," She answered, "I love being there for you." She thought fondly of all the times she was there for Jaime and Cersei before him. The way their faces would brighten and their eyes shine with gratitude. She wasn't quite ready to lose that special bond with Tyrion.

"Oh," He sounded surprised, "Well, if it makes you happy then I don't mind."

Her heart swelled. "There will come a time when it's no longer my role."

"When?"

"Someday soon, but you will be ready," she answered, "Do not doubt that."

He looked like he wanted to, but it passed. "Mother?"

"Yes?" They were walking out of the library.

"Why did you name me, Tyrion?" He asked, "I read about one in the book. There was a Tyrion. They called him the Tormentor ," he mumbled, "He sounded scary," He sniffled, "I-I was afraid since I-I'm-"

She never let him finish. "You were not named after him. Do you understand?"

He didn't answer.

"Tyrion?"

He flinched, as if the name hurt him. His eyes were glistening.

They stopped in the middle of the corridor before she tugged gently at his hand leading them to the first room she could find. It was an empty guest chamber. The red curtain of the four poster bed was drawn and the golden lions stitched onto them watched the intruders with silent suspicion.

"You were named after someone important." Her heart ached at seeing him in such a way. For him to think they had named him after that particular Lannister because of his differences. His name was so important to her, she carried it close to her heart. The legacy she wanted to live on after what had happened.

"Really?" He hiccuped.

"Would I lie to you?"

"No," His little shoulders sagged in relief. He used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes.

"You were named after someone I loved."

He perked up. "Who?"

"My brother," She could see his face hovering in front of him. His messy blond hair falling over his hazel eyes. It was painful to think about, a scar on her soul that was slow in healing.

"I-I had an Uncle Tyrion?" He looked and sounded surprised.

"You did," She felt the sharp tug in her chest, "He would've loved you, my boy," She knew it with all her heart. It was in her brother's nature to love and laugh. Tyrion the Trickster, that was what he called himself, before claiming himself clever for thinking of it.

"What happened to him?"

"He died," She wouldn't say anymore.

"Oh," He sounded so small and awkward, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," She forced herself to smile when their eyes met. "I know he would've been honored to have you bear his name."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes," She left no room for doubt. "You will be a great Lannister just like your siblings and just like your father."

Tyrion's chest puffed. His face determined while he straightened his posture.

There was never a more serious looking eight year old boy, Joanna Lannister was happy to see the words had taken root within him. The seeds had been planted and she could not wait to see what would bloom.

"I send a raven and he sends a Prince?" Joanna smiled at the unexpected guest who had come to Casterly Rock.

"Does that mean I must stay with the ravens?" Prince Lewyn Martell flashed her a smile.

Joanna laughed, pleased to see neither age or his sister's passing had dampened his spirits. "We may have chambers available for a prince and a most welcomed guest." That was when she hugged him. "It has been too long, Lewyn."

"It has," He agreed with a hint of solemnness. The Dornish prince stood proud and tall in front of her. He was wearing a bright orange tunic with red suns woven throughout it with dark trousers and boots. His hair was still mostly black just like she remembered. It rested just above his shoulders while an equally dark beard covered his cheeks and chin. His eyes were just like his sister's and his niece, warm and friendly.

"Is Prince Doran and his family well?"

"He is," Lewyn answered, "As if his wife and children."

"Good," Joanna gestured for him to follow her to a pair of cushioned chairs on the far side of the solar. "Will you be staying for a while? It is a pity that you missed your niece."

"I dare not impose to overstay my welcome in the lion's den," He pointed to the golden lions roaring down at them on crimson cloths and then the ones carved into wooden frames and in the metalwork.

"It will be no bother."

"Then I will," He bowed his head to show his gratitude before he sat down across from her.

The servants at Casterly Rock were punctual and reliable. She would not have it any other way. They appeared with an assortment of fruit, cheeses, jams, and bread as well as presenting them with different vintages to choose from including Dornish Red which they both chose. They then slipped away just as quickly and quietly.

"Dornish?" He picked up one of the blood oranges.

"Yes," She was pleased at how well the trade between the Westerlands and Dorne was going.

He nodded his approval before he ate one of the slices.

Joanna helped herself to some of the bread and jams, settling on a plum one that she had grown fond of. "I am surprised to see you not attending the tournament," she wiped at some jam she felt on the corner of her mouth.

He shrugged, "My nephew needed me." He didn't look too put out. "Family and Dorne come before personal glories," His eyes were twinkling from above the rim of his glass. "Besides, it was a mercy. A chance to let some of the younger knights earn some acclaim."

Joanna smiled, "You were always so generous, Lewyn."

"You wouldn't know it if you talked to Mariah," He teased, but there was a small sense of sadness behind his eyes at the mention of his sister.

The princess' passing had been a difficult storm to weather. Even after these years the grief would come to her sharp and sudden.

"I would not say she talked of you," Joanna began, "I would instead say that she complained often about you."

Lewyn chuckled. He took another sip of his wine.

"I must say," Joanna said, "Having Elia here at the Rock has been a blessing that I cannot even begin to describe. She is Mariah's daughter with Her composure, and her confidence. Sometimes I feel as if I'm watching a young Mariah before me. However, its Elia's gentle touch, I cherish most of all, especially in regards to her treatment of Tyrion," Joanna looked down into her glass. She felt a rush of warmth fill her chest. "I could not have asked or prayed for a better good sister for my boy. Or a better wife for my Jaime."

"She will make a great mother," Lewyn observed softly.

"She will," Joanna did not think there was an easier thing to agree on. She had been so delighted and excited when she heard of Elia's pregnancy. It couldn't even be dimmed when she heard Jaime's attempts to try to keep it a brief secret from her. He should've known Tywin would not heed that foolish instruction. It still had made her chuckle since she knew Jaime had done it because of his desire to see her reaction for himself.

"I didn't just come here to visit my friend and my darling niece," Lewyn's words pulled her out of her reflection to see he had gotten up from his seat. He walked across the room without looking back. He then opened the door and she presumed was speaking to one of his guards before he closed the door behind him.

"I would not have complained."

Lewyn sent her a dubious look before his expression smoothed over. "My nephew thought this was a matter that should not be said with ink."

"What message does Prince Doran wish to give?" She felt the crackle of curiosity burn within her.

That was when there was a knock at the door. Lewyn answered it, sticking his head out, conversing softly before he closed it. This time he was holding something. It was a plain wooden box. It was no larger than a small cushion. He carried it over to the table. The box was worn and plain with no carvings or design on it.

"I doubt a raven could carry this," Joanna made no move to open it. She could be patient.

"My nephew understands the importance of our alliance with your family," Lewyn informed her, "Your words were concerning to him." Lewyn stepped in front of her and opened the box, "Prince Doran believed this was all the evidence you would require to understand his intentions."

Joanna moved forward. She looked down and what she saw made her smile because she knew what it meant.

Dorne will not abandon us. Prince Doran will be with us to the end.

Barristan:

There is no equal.

He walked behind Prince Daeron, impressed at the bustling that surrounded them. It was a large town made entirely of cloth and canvas, tents and pavilions had popped up all around the ruined castle of Harrenhal like large colored flowers.

"Ser Barristan?" The Prince called to him, "Was the tournament this large when the Kingdoms celebrated the fiftieth year of King Jaehaerys' reign?" He looked over his shoulder with an innocent smile.

"I'm forgetful in my old age," Barristan replied dryly, unable to keep his lips from twitching.

Daeron chuckled, and slowed his steps so they could walk beside one another. "It is remarkable," He said it in a tone that conveyed no awe.

"It is," He agreed, "The largest I've participated in." He rode in tournaments in the reigns of three different kings, but none had been thrown of this size with this amount of lavish and splendor.

"And yet not a single northern banner has been spotted."

He had noticed as well. It would seem that the entire northern nobility were stubbornly staying above the Neck.

There was a flurry within the mob of men and women they passed which included bustling servants, and marching guards. It was a storm of noise and activity. There was shouting and laughter, cursing and gossiping. A pair of guards wearing the livery of House Whent walked by them complaining about the latrines that had been dug for the tourney. The stenches in the trenches.

On their right was the large encampment where Lord Darry was keeping his men-at-arms and knights. Encircling his faithful was his family's standard, a crowd of brown banners with the black ploughmen rippling in the breeze.

Lord Tywin had been the one who brought the largest gathering. Barristan figured the wedding between Lady Cersei and Prince Daeron must be drawing near. That he was bringing his bannermen to accompany him on a trip south to Summerhall to attend the anticipated union between the lion and the dragon.

Prince Daeron had made no mention of a pending wedding, but he was certain the prince would not complain. His affection for his betrothed was well known. Barristan prayed that this union would be different then so many others before him.

Targaryens and love , he sighed, how often has it brought unrest? How often have the kingdoms bled because of it?

Prince Daemon Blackfyre loved Princess Daenerys and rose in rebellion when denied her. Bittersteel and Bloodraven had loved the same sister, Shiera Seastar and the brothers made the Seven Kingdoms bleed. Prince Duncan, the very man who had given Barristan his epithet had put aside his own crown to marry the woman he loved. Aegon's children followed that example to marry out of love to the detriment of their father's own plans.

Their vows could've been seeds that planted peace and loyalty for all of Westeros, He remembered King Aegon's hopes with the alliances he had tried to make, but instead his children's vows brought contempt and uncertainty.

A dragon's love has too often brought despair and ruin.

He pushed aside that sad observation knowing it would be different with Prince Daeron and his beloved betrothed, Cersei Lannister.

"There is something I want to show you, Ser Barristan," He stopped just before they reached the outer curtain wall of Harrenhal.

He was given a small piece of black cloth. Confused, Barristan unfurled it to see it was the three headed dragon of House Targaryen, but the colors were different. The heads of the dragon were red, gold, and white.

"The white represents you, Ser Barristan," Prince Daeron's finger tapped it. "It is my way of honoring and thanking you for all that you have done to me. I am truly grateful, ser," There was a tightness to his tone.

Barristan blinked down at the cloth in disbelief. He tried to speak, but he found a sudden swell rising in his throat. His eyes remained on the white headed dragon. "Prince Daeron," The words felt thick and clumsy in his mouth. He struggled with what to say. This was not his talent. It was his sword that had won him his acclaim. So here he found himself in a position he never would be in the sparring yard or the battlefield, off-guard. "You honor me."

"I should warn you, Ser Barristan before you become known as Ser Barristan the Boastful that it represents Ser Gwayne and Ned too," The Prince's tone added some levity. "You are all men I respect and rely on. I consider myself fortunate to have been your squire."

He turned to face the young prince who stood taller than him. Barristan wished he could remember when that had happened. "The honor was mine, Prince Daeron," He said, "You are a good man with a good heart. You are a true knight and one of the best swordsmen I've ever faced, in training or fighting."

"I pray its never in fighting, Ser Barristan," Prince Daeron said softly before taking the cloth back.

He found that a disquieting thought and something he did not not wish to dwell on. "Will it be your standard for Summerhall?"

The Prince folded it. "Yes," he sounded distant, distracted before he tucked the cloth away, "For Summerhall."

Their presence outside the walls did not go unnoticed. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a small party that had come in the direction of where some of the Stormlords had put up their tents.

"Princess Laela," Barristan bowed his head to her.

"Ser Barristan," she greeted, "And my brother , Daeron."

"Princess."

Princess Laela was with only two others. There were no signs of a kingsguard knight or any of her ladies-in-waiting. The one on her right was a plump woman with long brown hair. She wore a dirty dress and kept her head down. The one on her left was a tall man who wore a fastened dark cloak. He carried a sword on his hip and a frown on his lips.

"My princess, where is your kingsguard knight? Where is the rest of your retinue?"

She waved off his concern. "Ser Jonothor was summoned by Lord Commander Hightower," She then turned to the woman who accompanied her. "You're dismissed." The servant kept her head bowed as she retreated towards the castle.

"I am not without protection, Ser, though I am touched with your concern. This is Maynard," She introduced the man who stood beside her. "He's a family friend who has recently pledged his sword to join our household."

Maynard had short dark hair and a coarse black beard that he grew to try to hide his unseemly crooked jaw. There was no ser to his name, but Barristan recognized the stance of a warrior.

"Ser Barristan the Bold, and Prince Daeron," He bowed his head. "I'm honored. I've heard great stories about both of you. Ser Barristan the knight who killed Maelys Blackfyre." He had a small smile under his large nose. "And Princess Laela has told me of her good brother's talent. The prince who broke the Kingswood Brotherhood."

"That was only accomplished because of the men who fought beside me," Prince Daeron deflected.

"But you are the one who killed their leader?"

"Simon Toyne? Yes, I killed him in battle," Daeron regarded the stranger in front of him. "You are a friend of my good sister?"

"I'm a friend of her mother, the Lady Baela of Lys."

"My mother's family is not bound by certain prejudices. They have made all sorts of friends across Essos from Pentos to Volantis," Princess Laela explained, "They also have a tendency to be ruled by lust instead of logic. Many of them have married whores and thieves, bastards and killers," She didn't sound the least bit ashamed, she actually looked amused at her family's history of dalliances and friendships. "I mean no offense, Maynard."

"I understand, Princess," He tipped his head to her. "You are now in the company of nobility."

"Good, because my son and I are honored to have you join our household."

"The Princess embarrasses me," Maynard shrugged, "It's but a single sword. " His posture changed when he faced Prince Daeron, "A sword I'd be honored to cross with yours Prince Daeron," he offered, "In sparring of course."

"That will have to wait," Princess Laela intervened, "We are needed back inside the castle."

"As you command, Princess," Maynard did not complain.

Her farewells were quick before she passed them with Maynard right behind her.

"I was not informed of any new guards in Rhaegar's household," Barristan frowned, watching them go.

"That's just my brother's way," Daeron observed, "I've changed my mind, Ser Barristan. I no longer feel the need to return to the castle quite yet."

"As you say," Ser Barristan deferred to Prince Daeron. They had not been summoned back nor were they needed to return anytime soon. He saw no reason why the prince couldn't change his plans. The reason why he did that was all too clear to see.

Lord Whent had spared no expense.

Barristan thought even a blind man would be awed by the splendor that House Whent was displaying. The great feast that he was hosting in the Hall of Hundred Hearths was teeming with extravagance. The decorations were studded with gold and other gems that rested on every table. Some were put on banners, woven into the cloth that hung on the walls. They gleamed like fallen stars. There were steams of exotic silk and lace spread throughout the hall.

Every seat was filled, within this hall were the greatest lords in the Seven Kingdoms. There was even more noise that could be heard from the galleries above the feasting nobles who were the lower lords of the realm. Barristan remembered that it was said, an entire army could be feasted within this hall, and it would seem they were right. Even with all the great lords and knights pouring into this castle, the hall of Hundred Hearths did not appear diminished in its size or even too crowded by all its full tables.

Barristan had eaten a simple supper before the feast. He chose his diet carefully because he was to take part in the tournament the next day. Barristan had learned that a stomach could not be ignored whether it be in battles or jousting. A poor choice of food or drink could lead to disaster.

It's difficult to raise a sword when you're retching up your supper.

That did not mean he was not tempted. The smells wafting in the air of spices, meats, sauces, the smell of warm bread and hearty ale, the tart taste of both wines and fruit. It was a feast like no other. He did not think coronation feasts or royal wedding banquets had been this lavish or extensive.

Someone who had no problem enjoying the food was his charge, Prince Daeron. He sat at a table full to bursting. He was smiling and laughing while his friends sat all around him.

Like a king holding court, Barristan mused. The thought did not linger but some of the discomfort did for even thinking it. To the prince's right sat Jaime, the two men sat across from their betrothed and wife respectively. On Jaime's other side sat Prince Oberyn who was enjoying the company of a noble woman that Barristan did not recognize. He suspected it was a maiden from the Westerlands since Lord Tywin and his retinue filled out the rest of the Prince's table.

On the Prince's other side sat Robert and then Ned and Benjen. Ned's sister sat across the Stormlord and his wife sat across from him. The last one at the table was a man who Barristan had just met before the feast, the only nobleman from the north who was here, Howland Reed. He was short and shy, and did not talk much, but when he did it was to either Benjen or Lyanna.

Prince Daeron and his betrothed had just rejoined the table after taking to the floor to dance. They were both smiling when they took their seats. Teasing and talking to one another as they got themselves more wine.

The minstrels were playing horns, pipes, harps, drums, bells. They played both the raucous and the ballads. Neither the tenors nor the instruments could be drowned out by the noise of so much chatter. It was a small army of minstrels and musicians that Lord Whent had hired and placed them in places where their music could carry even over the loud din that his guests were making.

Barristan stood alert and still from his spot near the table. He was close enough to intervene if it was needed, but there was some space between him and the Prince. That and the noise that echoed throughout the hall made it challenging for him to follow the conversations. It did not help that it appeared the friends would break off to speak to different ones, tell separate stories or jokes.

"It will be done," Jaime declared, a proud smile settling over his face. A bit of color was in his cheeks, the cause was the filled glass in his other hand. "I shall crown you my Queen of Love and Beauty, wife."

Lady Elia's back was to Barristan so he could not see her face, but he could hear her reply. "I do not need the crown, Jaime," Her tone seemed a mixture of caution to make sure her husband didn't do anything foolish, as well as happiness with his determination and devotion at crowning her.

Prince Daeron looked amused, "I do not think he can be persuaded."

"He could be," Elia replied, "It's the wine in him that cannot be."

"To good wine," Robert's voice roared over their chatter, raising his tankard, "but to better friends."

A ripple of agreement went through their table as they drank to the Stormlord's toast.

Barristan's eyes left the Prince's table to take in their surroundings. He watched passing servants and the guards that milled about. The long tables were lined vertical across the huge hall. At the far end of the hall on the side of the Prince's table was the raised platform where three tables were placed. To the far left sat the Crown Prince Rhaegar with him was his wife.

At the middle table and sitting alone was King Aerys. He was positioned close enough so if he desired he could speak to either table, but he did not look inclined. His eyes were narrowed and he spoke more to the eunuch who hovered right behind his seat, standing and nodding.

On the other king's side sat Lord Whent, his wife, his brother Oswell, who had been given the feast off, and then Lord Whent's sons, and his daughter. The girl was preening since she was to start the tourney as the Queen of Love and Beauty. Atop her red hair nestled the crown of woven flowers. It appeared she was too excited to wait. Eagerly wanting to show all the great lords and ladies in attendance that she was their Queen of Love and Beauty.

He saw his brothers Ser Arthur standing behind Prince Rhaegar, Sers Darry and Hightower standing behind Aerys. Ser Gwayne had the night off as well, but he was sleeping after taking his supper. He had one of the earlier posts for the morning.

The nobles were deep in their cups while some were deeper in their conversations. Lords Darry and Mooton sat at the far end of their liege lord's table. They were joined by others including members of House Frey, a lord whose standard Barristan did not recognize. It looked to be a blue line across a golden field.

He saw Lords Tully and Arryn together. Their families sitting with them. Barristan recalled, Lord Arryn's nephew was betrothed to Lord Tully's second daughter. They were easy to find. The girl, Lysa had a dreamy smile, sitting enraptured in whatever story her betrothed was telling. Denys Arryn had fought well against the Brotherhood and had been knighted by Ser Brynden for his effort. The Blackfish sat away from his brother and Jon Arryn, but close to his other niece and his nephew. He seemed to be telling them his own stories, getting smiles and laughter out of them.

There were other tables filled with other lords. They were from the Reach and the Stormlands but they were further away and closer to Prince Rhaegar's side of the hall. It was chatter from the prince's table that brought his attention to see the prince was rising out of his seat.

His decision caught his own betrothed by surprise. "Daeron?"

"I am retiring for the evening," Daeron leaned over when he added, "I've spotted my brother and I recognize that look. He means to serenade us with his harp," The Prince's tone was clipped. "Some would call his look inspired or handsome, but not me," He added, "To me it looks like he just broke wind."

"I shall go with you," Lady Cersei rose from her seat at once.

"I would not argue the chance for an evening stroll," He offered. "Along the God's Eye or within the castle's godswood?"

"That would please me."

"I think I will depart too," Elia let out a soft yawn, "An early rest sounds promising. If I am permitted," she said lightly, referring to the babe inside her and not the husband across from her.

Jaime stood. "I shall inform father." He got up to go further up the table to where Lord Tywin was sitting.

"I bid you a good night, sister," Oberyn Martell did not seem inclined to leave. The reason for his reluctance was the woman by his side, freckled and fair.

"Do not tire yourself out brother," Elia had moved around the table with her good sister, Cersei beside her. "You are partaking in the jousting tomorrow."

"And tonight I will be partaking-"

"Goodnight, brother," Elia bent down to kiss his cheek before whispering something into his ear which only made her brother give her a shrug and a grin.

It appeared that Prince Oberyn would be the only one staying. The Starks stirred from their seats with the Lord of Storm's End following. Lady Lyanna was talking quietly with her younger brother and Howland Reed. Lord Robert was laughing at some hushed whisper spoken from Lady Ashara. Her husband was on her other side, looking just as amused as his friend.

Lady Cersei was standing beside her betrothed, her hand resting on his arm. Jaime returned with their father's permission, taking his wife's hand. As well as a complement of Lannister guards who would accompany Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei for the remainder of their planned evening.

They would not be the first ones to leave the hall, but their departure was not happening without notice. Barristan felt the eyes of others while they left. He heard some muttering while they passed the tables. He glanced backwards to see Prince Daeron had been right. The Crown Prince was being given his harp by one of his servants, but Rhaegar's eyes were on them. His mouth a thin line while his wife whispered something into his ear. Then they were out of view. The Prince and his friends left the hall behind them to look towards another venture of entertainment that did not involve Prince Rhaegar.

It was not for another two hours or more that found Prince Daeron finally escorting his betrothed back to where her father had tasked his bannermen to set camp. Barristan had heard Lord Tywin had been offered quarters in the castle, but had declined. They had already said their farewells to the Starks who were encamped with Lord Robert and the rest of the Stormlords.

The camps were loud and filled with good cheer. Those who were not given seats in the castle were still given food, drink, and entertainment from House Whent. The people were merry, singing and laughing by roaring fires while emptying the barrels of ale that had been brought out.

Barristan watched the crowd carefully as they passed. He knew how ale could addle a man's mind. He did not need some man-at-arms trying to start a fight. Under the night sky and filled with wine, men often found themselves no longer chained by their inhibitions. It did not help when their friends would encourage such behavior. Barristan found a mob could make even the most craven man brave with their raucous support and their large gathering making it easy for men to hide after committing their follies.

The noise made it challenging to hear what Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei were saying, but he was close enough to quickly step forward to intervene if some drunkard stumbled upon their path. He remained poised and ready.

It was a brief walk to reach the Lannister pavilions that were nestled in the center of the camp. Lady Cersei's guards peeled away when they reached her large crimson tent. Barristan didn't need to go inside to know it was probably better furnished and decorated then his own chambers at the White Tower. There were a handful of guards already positioned around the entrance.

Prince Daeron walked his betrothed all the way to the crimson flap that had been folded back. The words they exchanged were hushed before they kissed.

To Barristan's surprise he did not need to interrupt. Prince Daeron then kissed her cheek before finally walking back to join him.

He must have seen his surprise since he was smiling. "You're not going to faint in shock are you, Ser Barristan?"

"I'm trying not to."

Prince Daeron chuckled. "I hope we did not keep you too late."

"You did not," He assured him. His duties for the night were over once he saw Prince Daeron back to the castle and his chambers. Barristan would need to report to Lord Commander Hightower, but those never took too long. He would have ample time to rest as well as prepare for the first day of jousting.

On their walk back to Harrenhal only parts of the surrounding encampment had quieted or darkened. There were still more fires than he could count, men drinking and shouting or fucking, given some of the other noises they heard when they passed some of the tents.

That was when he saw a woman crawling out from a tent in front of them, a loose bit of cloth tied around her waist, and a wisp of silk covering her chest. Her hair was disheveled, but she was smiling. It only widened when she spotted them.

Barristan averted his eyes so they would not settle on anything below her neck.

"I've never fucked a prince before," She called out to them. "What do you say?"

"Neither have I," Prince Daeron replied, never stopping.

Barristan chuckled. He did look back towards her, but that was only to make sure that she wasn't trying to follow them. She wasn't. Another was happy to pay her the attention that Prince Daeron had declined.

"I was surprised to hear that you would not be participating in the joust, my prince or in any of the events," He commented on what was on his mind before they were interrupted by a lady of the night.

"No, I decided against it," His shoulders stiffened, but within a heartbeat or two his posture relaxed. "There will be other chances to prove my worth, Ser Barristan."

"There certainly will be," Barristan easily agreed. He could see the Prince winning many future tournaments. He would not be surprised if Prince Daeron was only waiting so that he could be in the tournament they would throw at Summerhall to celebrate his marriage to Lady Cersei.

"I believe you will do well in the tourney," Prince Daeron said softly, "But then again no one knows what tomorrow will bring."