Tested Loyalties

Character Ages:

Bodrin: 34

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At Renly Baratheon's chambers…

In a small room in King's Landing, the Master of Laws Lord Renly Baratheon sits shirtless in a chair with his lover Ser Loras Tyrell, who is also shirtless, kneeling beside him lathering thick cream to shave Renly.

"Lord Stark's lucky he still has a head," Loras remarked.

"Robert will rant for a few days, but he won't do anything," Renly replied. "He adores the man. Still, I've got to give my nephew credit for talking back to Robert like that."

"You're jealous," Loras teases before bringing the blade close to Renly's chest.

Renly sees the blade. "Are you sure this won't hurt?" he asks worriedly.

"Only if I slip," Loras answers.

"And you prefer me like this?"

"Mhmm."

Renly remains motionless as he continues to keep his eyes focused on the razor-sharp blade as his chest is getting shaved.

"If you want hairless, maybe you should find a little boy," Renly said.

"I want you," Loras countered.

Renly sighed and shook his head. "My brother thinks that anyone who hasn't been to war isn't a man. He treated me and Daveth as if we're spoiled children."

"Well you know how the Queen would react," Loras points out. "She'd tear down the realm before she'd let her son fight."

"Maybe you're right," Renly conceded. "Still treats us like a spoiled child, though."

He turns and notices Loras slyly grinning at him.

"Oh, and you're not?" Renly mocked. "Loras Tyrell, the Knight of the Flowers? How many wars have you fought in? Oh, and how much did your father spend on that armor of yours?"

"Hold still," Loras said annoyed.

Renly sat motionless as he continued his tirade. "All I ever hear from Robert and Stannis is how I'm not tough enough, how I squirm at the sight of blood."

"You did vomit when that boy's eye was knocked out in the melee," Loras points out.

"His eye was dangling out of the damn socket!" Renly protested.

"He shouldn't have entered the melee if he didn't know how to fight."

"Easy for you to say. Not everyone is such a gifted swordsman."

Loras shook his head. "It's not a gift. No one gave it to me. I'm good because I work at it – every day of my life since I could hold a stick. The same could be said of your nephew Prince Daveth, though," he said – still remembering the jousting competition between him and the Oathkeeper, how tough an opponent he was and the only one to unseat him.

"His accomplishments are overrated anyway," Renly stated. "I could work at fighting all day, every day, and still never be as good as the both of you."

"Yes well, I guess we'll never know," Loras rolled his eyes. Finished with Renly's chest, he wipes him off and raises his arm so he can shave Renly's armpit.

"Everywhere?" Renly asks surprised.

Loras nods. "Everywhere. So… how did it end up? The Targaryen girl will die?"

"It needs to be done, unpleasant as it is," Renly confirmed. "Robert's rather tasteless about it. Every time he talks about killing her, I swear the table rises six inches."

"It's a shame he can't muster the same enthusiasm for his wife."

Renly chuckled briefly. "Daveth said the exact same thing," he frowns for a moment. "Robert does have a deep abiding lust for her money, though. You have to give it to the Lannisters, they may be the most pompous, ponderous cunts the gods ever suffered to walk the world, but they do have an outrageous amount of money."

Loras looks up at Renly. "I have an outrageous amount of money," he points out.

"Not as much as the Lannisters," Renly states.

"But a lot more than you," Loras counters.

Indeed, out of all the noble Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, the top two wealthiest families are the Lannisters and the Tyrells. House Lannister is the richest due to their vast amount of gold mines, while House Tyrell is the second richest due to their crops since the Reach is the most fertile region in the realm and helps keep the people of King's Landing fed.

"Robert's threatening to take me hunting with him," Renly continued.

Loras raises his eyebrow. "The Prince isn't going with him?"

Renly shook his head. "He suggested he'd hold court for a few days until his return. Last time we were out there for two weeks, tramping through the trees in the rain, day after day. All so he can stick his spear into something's flesh!" he sighs. "Oh, but Robert loves his killing. And he's the King."

"Hmm… How did that happen?"

"Because he loves his killing and he used to be good at it. Before he got all fat and lazy, that is."

"Do you know who should be King?" Loras asked.

Renly appeared startled. That question seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Be serious," he finally spoke.

"I am," Loras stated. "My Father could be your bank. I've never fought in a war before, but I'd fight for you."

"I'm fifth in line!" Renly argued.

"And where was Robert in the line of royal succession?" Loras stated. "Daveth is your nephew, yes, but he's also half-Lannister and never backed down when it comes to issuing threats. Harsh ones, I might add. Who do you think he'd fill the court with?"

'Daveth wouldn't do that… would he?' Renly thought. He knew how Daveth earned the nickname "Oathkeeper" and the methods he used to acquire it. That line of thought disturbed him.

"Daveth is an unknown," Loras continued. "Joffrey is a monster, Tommen is a child…"

"Stannis?" Renly asked.

Loras scoffed. "Stannis has the personality of a lobster."

"He's still my older brother. Besides, even if I wanted to, half the Stormlands would be divided between me and Daveth. He's my nephew. I can't be King."

*NICK!*

Renly gasped as he felt a sharp pinch under his arm.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed in surprise, noticing the blood slowly trickling down his flank.

"Look at it," Loras pointed at the cut.

"You cut me!"

"It's just blood. We've all got it in us. Sometimes a little spills. If you become King, you're going to see a lot of this. You need to get used to it. Go on. Look."

Renly hesitantly did as his lover told him, and looked at his life's fluid before Loras cleaned it up.

"People love you," Loras said. "They love to serve you because you're kind to them. They want to be near you."

Loras took Renly's hands and lifted him up to eye-level.

"You're willing to what needs to be done, but you don't gloat over it. You don't love killing," Loras grinned as he began undoing Renly's trousers. "Where is it written that power is the sole province of the worst? That thrones are only made for the hated and the feared."

As the final laces came undone, Renly stood naked before Loras as the Knight of the Flowers cupped his lover's cheek, pressing his lips against Renly's.

"You would be a wonderful King."

Loras then took Renly to bed, where the two proceeded to have sex. In that moment of intimacy, Renly thought over Loras's suggestions.

######

At the Red Keep…

The past several weeks have been nothing but a living hell for the Crown Prince. His father's outburst at the Small Council, Eddard Stark's apparent resignation, and now a fight erupted in the streets involving Lord Stark and Ser Jaime Lannister. A City Watchman informed Daveth that the dead Stark and Lannister bodies had been removed; though that did little to quell the fears of those who witnessed the whole ordeal. One of Daveth's contacts in the city, Bodrin, whom the Prince appointed to represent the smallfolk population in King's Landing, informed him that the arrests caught the attention of his grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock; the Old Lion had been gathering his forces to prepare siege Riverrun in response to Catelyn Stark's abduction of Tyrion Lannister.

Luckily by that time, Daveth had already sent ravens ahead to both his grandfather and Lord Hoster Tully – demanding that both sides cease hostilities and stand down. Although word did arrive that Tyrion had won a trial by combat and was on his way to the capital, Daveth had to call in a lot of favors and pull a lot of strings with his contacts stationed in the Westerlands to placate his incensed grandfather. Lord Tywin, already an old man, was the richest and most powerful man in Westeros; commanding an intimidating yet very powerful presence, even Daveth had to be extremely careful when dealing with him. And the years have not made Tywin kinder. Only when Daveth's words his letter sent to Tywin detailing Jaime's questioning and subsequent release to the White Sword Tower did Tywin seem to relent. He only cared about his eldest son more than any of his children and still considers Jaime his lawful heir despite the younger Lannister's vows to the Kingsguard.

Daveth held up a letter sent to him by his grandfather. "Inform your uncle that attacking Ned Stark was stupid and that Lannisters don't act like fools," was what the message simply said.

"Talk about cutting it close…" Daveth breathed a sigh of relief.

"What did it say?" Bodrin asked.

"Lord Tully… and my lord grandfather have agreed to withdraw their troops, though I had to find a way to placate you-know-who. It's mostly considered a truce. My dwarfish uncle, Tyrion Lannister, is already on his way to King's Landing from the Eyrie."

"I've heard that he widow Arryn seems to be insane."

Daveth shuddered. "She was always an odd fish even when Jon Arryn was still alive, yet…" he stopped and pondered.

"My Prince?" Bodrin asked curiously.

"Yet she didn't show genuine remorse or grief when he did pass… and Lysa immediately took off to the Vale without attending her husband's funeral…"

"You don't think…?"

"All we have are theories at the moment. To find something incriminating, I need proof. Otherwise none of us can move a muscle without finding evidence of foul play."

"With your permission, my lord, I know some people willing to look into it for you."

Daveth looked at Bodrin for a moment. "Just get it done," he sighed. "But be as discreet as possible. Remember, there are eyes and ears everywhere in King's Landing."

"It will be done," Bodrin bowed. "Not even the eunuch or Littlefinger will track us down."

As soon as the commoner left the Crown Prince's chamber, Daveth had begun to walk towards the room where Eddard Stark was kept. He was being confined until King Robert and Queen Cersei arrived for questioning, yet Daveth still hoped to get some answers from him. Knocking on the door and making his way in, Daveth sees Eddard sitting on a chair looking up at him.

"Bed your pardon, my Prince," Eddard said.

"It's alright. No need for you to stand for me."

Daveth pulled up a chair and sat beside him.

"I won't lie to you, Lord Stark. Mother isn't happy about this. Father isn't happy about this. Both are already on their way here to question you themselves."

Eddard looked at the Prince. "And then what?" he asks.

"Must you ask? You know Father better than that. Once his temper cools down, he'll come to his senses. You're far too important to him to let go."

"Threatening to have my head on a spike was one way of putting it," Eddard mused.

Daveth shook his head. "He was just him blowing hot air; Father always needed someone to vent his frustrations on. I assure you he didn't mean it." He soon changed the subject and had a serious look on his face. "Now, I want you to tell me what in Seven hells happened back there. What happened between you and my uncle that ended with corpses littering the streets before I arrived?"

Eddard took a moment to take in what happened. Jory, his men… Once he explained his side of the story, Daveth analyzed his words.

"I see," he concluded. "Uncle Jaime was always hot-headed, but he does care deeply about Uncle Tyrion."

"He killed my men!" Eddard said.

Daveth narrowed his eyes. "You think that excuses what your wife did? Lord Stark, you don't simply just do that and not expect retaliation in return."

Eddard continued to press. "And what of the plot to kill my son Bran? The dagger the Imp got from Lord Baelish in a bet…"

"And you believe everything you hear?" Daveth scoffed. "I was at the tournament of my brother Joffrey's last nameday, Lord Stark. No such bet ever took place."

Eddard stopped talking and looked at Daveth, taking in what the Prince just told him.

"No," Daveth concluded. "I believe both the Starks and Lannisters are being manipulated by a third party. Whoever did try to murder your son clearly intended to blame House Lannister for the deed. I already have my contacts working to find leads so as to determine who is responsible. Lord Stark, why didn't you come to me?"

"You were just a boy, and you're Robert's son," Eddard said. "Your father and the Queen would've had my head if I had gotten you involved."

"Don't you think I don't know the risks entail? I'm already involved regardless. You love your children, I get that. All parents do. Well, I suppose some do. But need to learn how to be more flexible and often compromise to achieve the results you want. Houses Baratheon and Stark always stood side-by-side, remember? And if we're to be bound by blood, the least I could do is provide whatever aid I can possibly provide so as to ensure your sons and daughters have a future. Not many these days get that chance."

Eddard looked at Daveth, examining the Prince closely before letting out a smile. "You really are your father's son, aren't you?"

"Ugh, please, Lord Stark, don't even say such things!" Daveth shuddered.

On que, the door opens and in comes King Robert and Queen Cersei. Robert wore a black velvet doublet with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon the breast in golden thread, and a golden mantle with a cloak of black and gold squares. Cersei wore a blue dress and a jeweled tiara in her hair. Judging by the discontented look on their faces, it was bound to get heated. Daveth and Eddard both stood up.

"Your Grace," Eddard bowed.

"Father. Mother," Daveth politely curtsied.

Cersei looked at her firstborn. "Are you alright, my son?" she asked, a hint of worry and scorn in her voice.

Daveth nodded. "I'm fine, Mother."

Cersei seemed to accept Daveth's words, though that did little to placate her. Robert, meanwhile, did not care.

"You did well to bring this to our attention, boy," Robert said bluntly. "But this doesn't concern you anymore. Leave us. Now."

Daveth looked at his father, slightly irritated before taking his leave. Not long after the door was closed, did things heat up.

"A man in your place should count himself fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders," Cersei declared. "Do you have any notion of what the consequences entail for endangering the life of my son?"

"I hadn't expected him to personally intervene," Eddard said, "though that didn't stop your brother from slaughtering my men."

"Do you know what your wife has done? What you have done?"

"She did nothing I did not command," Eddard replied.

Robert frowned and rolled his eyes. "Who'd have thought Cat had it in her?"

"My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace."

"I am not pleased, Ned," Robert grumbled.

Eddard took notice. "The Crown Prince already told me that."

"By what right do you dare to lay hands on my blood? To endanger the life of the Crown Prince?" Cersei demanded. "Who do you think you are?"

"I am the King's Hand―" Eddard told her with icy courtesy.

"You were the King's Hand―!"

"Charged by your royal husband to keep the king's peace―"

"You shall now be held accountable―"

"And enforce the king's justice―"

"Oh, will both of you shut your mouths?" Robert roared. "You asked him a question and he answered it."

Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turned back to Eddard.

"Keep the king's peace, you say. Is this how you keep my peace, Ned? Seven men are dead…"

"Eight," Cersei corrected. "Tregar died this morning, of the blow Lord Stark gave him."

"Daveth and the Old Bull told us everything. Abductions on the Kingsroad and drunken slaughter in my streets," Robert said. "I will not have it, Ned."

"As I told the Prince―"

"I said I will not have it! To hell with your wife's 'reasons.' We already got word that the dwarf was released after your little spat, so now you will make your peace with Jaime."

"He butchered my men. Am I supposed to forget that Jaime wished to chasten me after what he did?"

"My brother was not the cause of this quarrel," Cersei told Robert. "Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion on the Kingsroad."

"Quiet, woman!" Robert shouted.

"You know me better than that, Robert," Eddard said. "Ask your son or Lord Baelish if you doubt me. They were there."

"I've talked to them already," Robert said, incredulous. "He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began, but he admits you were returning from some whorehouse. Daveth told me that he, the Old Bull and several Watchmen went to stop your fight with Jaime."

"He gave his side of the story," Cersei replied, "and was released from his room on Daveth's condition that he informs the King first."

"Give me leave to bring him to justice," Eddard said.

"No," Robert said. "I want no more of this. Jaime killed three of your men, and you five of his. Daveth took it upon himself to end it. Now it's your turn to end it."

Cersei looked to her husband. "I took you for a King."

Robert's face was dark with anger. "Hold your tongue!"

"He's attacked my brother and abducted the other," Cersei's face was a study in contempt. "Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly. Perhaps I should wear the armor and you the gown."

*SLAP!*

Purple with rage, Robert lashed out and landed a vicious backhand blow to the side of the head. Cersei Lannister stumbled against the table and fell hard, yet she did not cry out. Her slender fingers brushed her cheek, where the pale smooth skin was already reddening. On the morrow the bruise would cover half her face.

"I shall wear this as a badge of honor," she announced with a hiss.

"Wear it in silence or I'll honor you again," Robert vowed.

Cersei stood to her feet and stormed out without a word, slamming the door shut behind her.

"See what she does to me?" Robert seated himself, cradling his wine cup as he takes a sip. "My loving wife. The mother of my children." The rage was gone from him now; in his eyes Eddard saw something sad and scared. "I should not have hit her. That was not… That was not kingly."

"Your Grace," Eddard said, "your son told me what he planned. Averting a war…"

"And now that little shit of an Imp is on his way back to King's Landing, I know," Robert pressed his fingertips against his temples. "Your wife's had her fun, now put an end to it before she decides to play it again. You hear me? Send a raven and put an end to it."

"And what about Jaime Lannister? What about Jaime?"

"I'm half a kingdom in debt to his bloody father!" Robert groaned. "I don't know what happened between you and those yellow-haired shits. I don't want to know. My son's right about this though: I can't rule the kingdoms if the Starks and the Lannisters are at each other's throats, so enough!" The king drained his cup.

Eddard remained standing. "As you command, Your Grace. With your leave, I will return to Winterfell and set matters straight."

"Piss on that! Send a raven. I want you to stay. I'm the King, I get what I want," Robert said loudly before lowering his tone. "I never loved my brothers… A sad thing for a man to admit, but it's true. You were the brother I chose."

Robert stood up, grasping one of the bedposts to steady himself and throws the Hand of the King's badge onto the table where Eddard stands next to

"We'll talk when I return from the hunt."

"The hunt?" Eddard asked.

"Killing things clears my head. Daveth'll be sitting on the throne while I'm away, and you'll be helping him. You'll hate it more than I do."

"What about the Targaryen girl―"

Robert groaned. "Seven hells! Don't start with her again! The girl will die and I'll hear no more of it. Put on the badge. And if you ever take it off again, I swear to the Mother I'll pin the damn thing on Jaime Lannister."

Robert exits the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Eddard picks up the badge; he was being given no choice again, it seemed.

######

At Vaes Dothrak…

Inside a large communal tent, a pregnant Daenerys Targaryen is centered around everyone and eating the heart of a horse. The Dothraki and a priest chant around her. Her husband Khal Drogo looks on in anticipation as she continues eating.

"She has to eat a whole heart?" Viserys asks. "I hope that wasn't my horse."

"She's doing it well," Jorah replies.

"She'll never keep it down."

At lot had changed between Viserys and his sister Daenerys. Ever since the incident in the hills, the relationship between the two had grown increasingly sour.

ooOoo

"You dare send this whore to give me commands?! I should have sent you back her head!" Viserys shouted angrily at Daenerys, having dragged Doreah by her hair through the camp and into Daenerys' tent before roughly shoving her to the carpet.

Doreah's face was bruised and her eye was red, indicating that Viserys had hit her repeatedly.

"Please forgive me, khaleesi," she cried. Tears fell down her cheeks as Doreah trembled in fear. "I only did as you asked."

"Hush now. It's all right," Daenerys comforted her handmaiden. "Irri, take her and leave us."

"Yes, Khaleesi," Irri obeyed and took Doreah out of the tent, leaving Daenerys alone with Viserys.

"Why did you hit her?!" Daenerys shouted.

Viserys snarled. "How many times do I have to tell you? You do not command me!"

"I wasn't commanding you. I just wanted to invite you to supper." She took him by the hand and drew him across the room. "Look. These are for you," Daenerys said as she presented Viserys the assembled gifts she made for him. Ever since their first spat she had tried to reconcile with her brother.

Viserys frowned suspiciously. "What is all this?"

"It's a gift. I had it made for you." Daenerys smiled shyly.

He looked at her and sneered. "Dothraki rags? Are you to dress me now?"

"Please," she begged. Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help.

Viserys picked up the cloak and sniffed. "This stinks of manure," he exclaims and began throwing the gifts at Daenerys.

"Stop—"

He continued tossing them. "All of it!"

"Stop it!" Daenerys warned, finally out of patience and fed up with her brother.

"You would turn me into one of them, wouldn't you? Next you'll want to braid my hair."

"You've no right to a braid," she exclaimed boldly. "You've won no victories yet."

Viserys's face turned purple with rage. "You do not talk back to me!"

*SMACK!*

Viserys hit Daenerys across the face. As she falls to the ground, Viserys mounts her to keep hitting her as Daenerys fends him off with a chain.

"You are a horselord's slut," he yelled. "And now you've woken the dragon…"

*BAM!*

Before Viserys could strike Daenerys, she quickly grabbed a heavy chain of ornate gold medallions on the ground and swung it with all her strength, hitting Viserys in the face as hard as she could. Viserys yelled and stumbled backwards, releasing his grip. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of the medallions had sliced it open.

Daenerys rose to her feet. "I am a khaleesi of the Dothraki!" she proudly proclaimed to Viserys. "I am the wife of the great khal and I carry his son inside me! The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands!"

ooOoo

Daenerys keeps eating the heart, nearing the end. The Dothraki onlookers all chant in unison, getting louder and louder. The priestess is also chanting, louder and louder. Khal Drogo stares more intently at his wife, she stares back. The chanting grows louder, as does the priestess.

"Tell me what she is saying," Viserys said.

"'The prince is riding'," Jorah translates. "'I have heard the thunder of the hooves. Swift as the wind he rides. His enemies will cower before him… and their wives will weep tears of blood.'"

The eating and chanting intensifies as Viserys looks on in shock.

"She's going to have a boy," Jorah said.

"He won't be a real Targaryen," Viserys dismissed. "He won't be a true dragon."

As the chanting is at its loudest, Daenerys has finished with the heart. Everyone looks on in anticipations, she wretches forward, on the verge of vomiting. The chanting suddenly halts. Khal Drogo leans in and looks intensively. Daenerys holds everything in and sobs. Her hands bloody, she slowly sits up, keeping everything in as she gulps the final bite. The priestess begins to speak, Jorah translates directly for Viserys.

"'The stallion who mounts the world.' The stallion, is the khal of khals. He shall unite the people into a single khalasar. All the people of the world will be his heard."

Daenerys rises to her feet, speaking in Dothraski assembled in the room.

"A prince rides inside me! And he shall be called Rhaego!"

"Rhaego! Rhaego!" the room begins chanting.

As the chanting grows louder and louder, Drogo stands up and walks up to Daenerys.

"They love her," Viserys realizes.

The room's chanting gets even louder. Drogo hugs Daenerys as he hoists her up by her thighs, making Daenerys smile as she gets carried around the room.

"She is truly a queen today," Jorah exclaimed.

Jorah looks to his right towards Viserys, who has now slipped out. Inside Daenerys's tent, Viserys opens the container that holds her dragon eggs. He sighs and then puts them into a sack. Jorah walks into the tent behind him, blocking the door.

"Don't let them see you carrying a sword in Vaes Dothraki," he warns. "You know the law."

Viserys shook his head. "It's not my law," he protested.

"They don't belong to you."

"Whatever is hers is also mine," Viserys insisted.

"Once, perhaps," Jorah countered.

"If I sell one egg, I'll have enough to buy a ship. Two eggs – a ship and an army."

"And you have all three."

Viserys frowned. "I need a large army," he snarled. "I'm the last hope of a dynasty, Mormont. The greatest dynasty this world has ever seen, on my shoulders since I was five years old and no one has ever given me what they gave to her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it… How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Hmm? Who can rule without wealth, or fear, or love? Oh, you stand there, all nobility and honor. You don't think I see you looking at my little sister, hmm? Don't think I know what you want? I don't care! You can have her! She can be queen of the savages and dine on the finest bloody horseparts, and you can dine on whichever parts of her you like! But let me go!"

Jorah continued blocking the door. "You can go, but you can't have the eggs."

"You swore an oath to me. Does loyalty mean nothing to you?" Viserys challenged.

"It means everything to me."

"And yet here you stand?"

"And here I stand."

Viserys and Jorah stare at each other for a moment, before Viserys drops the sack containing the dragon eggs to the floor. Jorah steps aside, unblocking the exit and permitting Viserys to leave.