Chapter 31: Ignite

Cersei:

The buzzing of the smallfolk made her think of bees.

They see a lioness when they look at me. Cersei held her head high while she passed. She was surrounded by Lannister guards, but it was the Lannister they truly respected and feared. As they should. She glanced here and there to see the smallfolk dispersing while she passed them.

The envy, the awe, the lust, she saw it on all their faces. Cersei felt their eyes, both the longing and the loathing. The former because they desired her. The latter because they wanted to be her. The clamoring had quieted, the talking turned to whispering, heads turned and tongues wagged, but she did not stop to allow them the privilege to gawk or gaze.

Cersei was making her way towards her father's encampment to answer his summons. Their days at Harrenhal had been filled with feasts and festivities. Lord Whent had set aside seven days for jousting. The stands have been filled since it began yesterday with the nobility while the smallfolk crowded around the fences like livestock in their pens. These were the finest knights and lords competing for the honor and glory of beating the best in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Not all the best, she corrected, a small smile playing on her lips. Daeron had decided not to participate in either the melee or the jousting. She was confident he would've won in either competition, but she understood why he chose not to compete. Cersei did not think it below Rhaegar to try to arrange an accident to befall his brother. A slip of a dagger in the crowded melee or an errant lance at just the right opportunity.

No, she fiercely smothered the image before it could surface. She would not allow it even a heartbeat to breathe. Cersei could not part from him. She would not. His life meant more to her than a crown of roses. Her heart took her back to that night at Storm's End. One flesh, she felt the heat coil inside her. Lust and love may have inflamed her passions, but it had not diminished her wits. She knew no babe could be allowed to be conceived from their tryst so she sought the manner in which to insure it. It was Daeron's cousin, Robert, who got what she needed. The Lord of Storm's End used his reputation to shield her from scrutiny.

Her septa would've said she sullied herself by succumbing to her temptations. She would've tsked, squawked certain verses, prayed for forgiveness, and lectured her on the dangers of lust. What does she know? Cersei dismissed her, She was just an old hag. She's just bitter because no man would touch her so she joined the Seven. She was a sheep. A lioness does not concern herself with the bleating of the sheep. That's what mother had told her.

The sounds of gossip and boasting had her turn her head to see two men who she was certain were drunk, were trying to reenact one of the latest jousts that had occurred earlier in the day. Their friends who were sitting around them, hollered and laughed, clapped and cheered when the two fools collided into each other.

It had been difficult for her to enjoy these first two days of the joust. She quietly seethed as she saw Jeyne Whent sitting with her family, a flower garland atop her head. She waved and preened to the smallfolk and the nobility alike as if she was truly a queen, but she wasn't. She was nothing.

The girl's brothers and uncle were tasked in defending her crown, but they've all since been defeated. The last being Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard who fell to her brother, Jaime. It was a victory she savored. As was the crestfallen look on Jeyne's face when she was confronted with the cold truth that a crown did not suit her.

It was not just Lord Whent's daughter that made it challenging for her to enjoy this tournament. It was the unknown. The fog that seemed to settle itself over Harrenhal. It clouded everything and everyone. Every time she watched a joust in the back of her mind she wondered would this knight or lord ride for Rhaegar or for Daeron. It pressed against her, looking and thinking at trying to puzzle out which prince they'd follow. Mine always sits beside me, Daeron's presence helped to soothe the tension that tried to nest inside her.

The smallfolk did their best to undo it, pricking at her nerves with the way they cheered for their crown prince. How easily they're duped, She thought scornfully, remembering how they reacted to Rhaegar's latest victory. I used to be one of those fools, it was an unseemly comparison, but she could not argue against it. Cersei thought so much of him, but those were illusions. They were things she wanted to see, wanted to believe because she wanted the titles and the crown. I was blinded by it all. The crown I wanted was more a veil that hid all his faults from me.

Now, all she felt towards him was hatred. It burned stronger and brighter then his father's precious wildfire. First he embarrassed me, now he wishes to cheat me, to steal from me. The fire flared in her belly at the prince's schemes at trying to separate her from the man she loved. She watched and hoped to see the crown prince lose, but alas much to her irritation he continued to prevail. He hasn't faced Jaime yet, she knew her brother skilled enough to best the crown prince.

If it couldn't be a dragon then let it be a lion that humbles Rhaegar in front of all the realm. The image that the idea conjured inside her made her snicker in delight. She saw the muddy and defeated Rhaegar on the ground like a pig. She covered her mouth to stem the mirth, but some continued to slip past.

They were nearing the Westerlands encampment. Cersei could see the tall, red Lannister banners that were raised above all others in the distance. The wind made the golden lions look to be slashing and clawing the air.

They walked by a small group huddled around one of the fires, roasting meat and drinking. She saw no standards on their tunics, only dirt and grime. They stopped talking when they saw her and her guards. They watched them pass in stony silence. Cersei met their glares refusing to yield even an inch at their attempts to intimidate her. These men are not smallfolk. They were not meek, but bold. She saw little to help her besides some scraps of yellow cloth that she saw tucked by the fire. Hedge knights? If she had to guess, but they left her mind when she entered her family's encampment.

It did not matter the task or conversation every person she passed, stopped and bowed. She saw the familiar standards of her father's bannermen while she walked towards the center where her family's tents had been put up. The boar of House Crakehall, the burning tree of House Marbrand, the silver ships of House Farman, with each one she passed, they showed her the respect she and her family were due. Still, she smiled politely, and even waved once or twice to acknowledge them. She was not blind to her sway upon seeing how the men reacted to her attention.

A woman's weapons are different, Cersei, her mother had told her once, but they can be stronger than steel and swords.

How?

A smile, a tease, a touch, her mother explained, it can undo a man. She had then raised up a hand as if to stop her thoughts from getting too far ahead, A smile can earn you a sword, a man's loyalty, but it will not allow you to rule effectively. Mother had tapped Cersei's head and she had giggled. You will be nothing without your wits, but you will need steel and fire too. You will need the steel to endure and the fire to drive you.

I have those, she had declared proudly.

Her mother had given her a fond smile. I believe you do my dear. She cupped her cheek, but do not let that fire consume you. To let its smoke blind you. Or allow the steel to weigh you down.

I won't.

"Lady Cersei?"

She saw one of her father's servants in front of her. His name escaped her. "Yes?"

"Lord Tywin will be joining you shortly," He raised his head, and though his face was familiar with his wispy moustache and dark eyes, no name came to her. The servant then turned to instruct the guards to open the flaps of her father's tent for her.

"Thank you," was all Cersei said when she passed the nameless servant and guards.

The inside of her father's tent hadn't changed since her last visit. It was orderly. Everything had a place and father was meticulous that it was kept there. There were a pair golden lions sewn onto the red canvas in combatant right behind his desk. There was parchment on the top of the desk, all placed in neat piles. The furniture was expertly crafted and richly embroidered. The rug beneath her feet was Myrish, skillfully woven and dyed, it was radiant and expensive. She walked atop it to wait for her father at his desk.

"Cersei."

"Father?" She turned to see him approach, alone.

"How are you?" He stopped in front of her. His eyes could be piercing especially the golden flecks within the green, but they weren't when he was looking down at her.

"I am well, Father," she answered after she curtsied.

"You look beautiful," He praised her with a small smile.

"Thank you, Father," She took her seat after he did.

Two servants arrived before they could begin any meaningful conversation. They brought with them an array of food and wine. They carefully placed it between them, making sure not to disturb what was already there. The wine and glasses were next. They moved quickly to pour it for them. They kept their heads bowed the entire time. When they were finished, they backed away, but waited to be dismissed.

"That will be all," Father told them. They left as quietly as they entered.

Cersei plucked a few grapes from the plate, but was mindful at how she ate them.

"Where is Prince Daeron?"

"He is speaking with his father," She couldn't completely crush the worry that slithered in her belly anytime she was forced to dwell on the king especially when her betrothed was in his company.

"You care for him."

"I love him, Father," She corrected instantly.

His face was stone. "More than your family?"

"He is my family."

His eyes regarded her quietly with his scrutinizing gaze. It was a look that used to make her stomach clench, but now she found herself meeting it without worry. She was calm instead of trembling. Her father was the same man, but she was no longer that young girl. Cersei had discovered her own strength. She had seen death charge her, but she held fast to meet it with her sword. She cut down that raper without hesitation. She watched the life leave his eyes. The dead man's stare did not bother her and her father's no longer could either. The hold was gone.

"When you told me you wanted to learn to fight I wanted to crush it, dismiss it," He said bluntly, "It was beneath our family. You're not a soldier. You're not a knight. You're not a lord."

You're not a man, she finished for him. None of this surprised her since she already knew of his dislike of her fighting. "You didn't."

"No, I didn't," He took a small sip from his glass, but his stoicism never wavered. "It was your mother who talked me out of it," The gold in his hazel eyes always seemed to gleam when he talked about her. "She told me that would be a mistake. That I was wrong," The smallest of smiles came to his lips at recalling it.

Cersei wasn't sure who else would be so bold as to tell father that he was wrong. I could, she wanted to say, if she had to, I would. "What did she say?"

"That Prince Daeron was not demeaning our family, he was not disrespecting our daughter. She told me that he did this because he respected you." Father's face was pensive. "She pointed out that I had done something similar for her before we married. It wasn't a sword, but she was right," He didn't look like he'd further explain what it was. "He respects you," he met her eyes, "and he is right to do so, Cersei." His expression did not change, but his tone showed his pride in her. "That is the sort of husband you deserve."

"Thank you, Father."

"You will marry Prince Daeron," He told her simply, "And woe to those who dare to stop us."

"It really is remarkable," Lyanna's grey eyes were envious as she held Cersei's sword.

Cersei said nothing. Lyanna was right. It was a remarkable sword. And it was mine.

"He made it just for you?" Lyanna's tone was filled with dismay. She looked to be trying to make sense of something so unexpected as a man giving his intended a sword.

"He did," Cersei spoke with all pride when she talked about her sword or more importantly her prince, "He modeled it after his sword, Dark Sister." She was particularly pleased by that.

Lyanna's fingers traced the engraved dragon that made up part of the hilt. "You are blessed to have a betrothed such as him."

"I am," she said happily. It was difficult not to gloat even when she wasn't trying to. Cersei saw the wistfulness in the girl's eyes and she was reminded of a certain friend. "Robert feels similarly and just as strongly as Prince Daeron." A favor for a favor, Robert. "He's a good man," She surprised herself when she found herself meaning it.

The Stark girl didn't answer. Her eyes stubbornly transfixed on the sword. "He is." She chewed on her lower lip before she sighed. "He has a bastard," She looked guilty bringing up Mya . "She's a good girl," She added hastily, "And I was surprised when Robert said she'd be fostered in Dorne and by Prince Doran, no less."

"That was years ago," Cersei wasn't familiar with Mya's age off hand. "Daeron tells me that he has curbed those tastes," remembering how her betrothed had delicately put it.

"You believe him?"

"Of course, I do," She nearly snapped. She did not like the Stark girl questioning Daeron's integrity.

"Forgive me," Lyanna sensed it, "I-I just," She dispelled another breath. This one longer and louder, it pushed back some of the dark brown hair that had fallen loose.

"You're scared," Cersei saw it on her face.

"What?" Her head snapped up. The surprise melted swiftly with her expression hardening. "I'm not scared," she scoffed.

Cersei wasn't fooled, because she saw the truth of it despite her denial. The idea of him as her husband, that seed was already in the girl's heart and it had taken root. I'm just watering it.

"Here," She mumbled when she handed back the sword.

The truth that they both knew, but didn't say was that in the end the choice wasn't theirs to make. It belonged to their father's. They were pieces not players, bonds she tried to break since she was a girl. Cersei was fortunate that she had Daeron, who had given her the key to unlock them. He respects you. Father's words rung in her ears.

Cersei had seen enough of the girl in front of her to know that she was not one to be courted or caged. That this Lyanna would fight and claw her way out of anything she did not want. She'd tightly grip whatever little she had including her freedom and pride before she'd submit to the suitors her name and age were no doubt attracting.

"Lya!"

They were interrupted by the presence of two boys scrambling towards them. When they got closer, Cersei recognized them as Lyanna's brother Benjen and their friend, Howland.

"We've been looking everywhere for you," Benjen said before finally noticing Cersei for the first time. His cheeks went red, "Lady Lannister," he hastily bowed his head. The crannogman followed his example.

Cersei was amused, but acknowledged their greeting.

"We need to leave," Benjen was trying not to look in Cersei's direction, but his glances were hardly furtive. Howland was standing behind him, older, but shorter, not speaking, but nodding. "You wanted us to get you before the jousting. "

"Ah, yes," that seemed to pull Lyanna out of her musings. "Thank you, Benjen." She forced herself to smile, before she turned back to her, she dropped a rather clumsy curtsey, "Thank you for the time, Cersei and for the words. "

Cersei inclined her head, but by then the three of them were already beating a hasty retreat.

She wanted to curse while all around her they cheered and clapped.

Cersei showed none of her anger or her resentment when the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms appeared for his next opponent in the joust. Daeron stiffened beside her. She put a hand on his arm, her fingers could feel his tension. She felt her own knots forming in her belly.

Behind her, she heard the chattering of some of Laela's ladies-in-waiting who had come into their box for the afternoon tilts. Spies, she saw their true purpose. More like hens, she resented their presence, and the princess' audacity to foist them on her. Flaunting what little power she had, she must be so proud of herself, Cersei sneered. Her thoughts broken up by their mindless babbling, she was sorely tempted to shove one of them over the box just to get some silence. She didn't, but the temptation grew when their nasally voices grew too loud.

She kept her hand on Daeron while her eyes moved across the yard to see who the Prince's opponent would be this time. His standard bearer stood proudly while it rippled in the wind, waving to the crowd. It was several black dots on a brown field with letters bordering. It took her a second or two to recognize the standard for House Royce which meant that they weren't letters, but runes.

Lord Royce's helm was already down while his squire was helping him. The Lord of Runestone was wearing bronze armor that had runes scribbled all over it. She remembered either Ned or Robert commenting on it, saying the Royces claimed the runes would ward their wearers from harm. Cersei didn't believe that, but she was willing to hope if it meant seeing Prince Rhaegar defeated.

Fall, fall, lose, lose, the chant changed in her head when she watched the two charge one another. The whooping roar of the crowd couldn't soften the sound of broken lances or the slam of the force hitting the riders, but neither men had fallen. She thought she saw the prince waver when Lord Royce's lance hit, but that may have just been her hope in wanting to see it.

Fall, fall, fall, she wanted Rhaegar humiliated watching the two ride towards one another. The thundering of horses, the large inhale from the collective audience, silent and anxious. It was no more than a heartbeat or two, but it was an eerie feeling to be in a crowd so large, but for there to be absolute quiet. The loud cheer punctured the silence like a spear thrust when the two traded blows with their lances, wood splintered, but neither fell.

Perhaps, that armor isn't so ridiculous.

Cersei spoke too soon with the third tilt proving to be the deciding one as Prince Rhaegar unhorsed Lord Royce. The smallfolk cheered for Rhaegar like the witless fools they were. The women behind her were breathlessly babbling to one another, fawning over their crown prince.

She hated it. She hated them. She hated the prince. She even hated Lord Royce's stupid armor.

Cersei kept her annoyance to herself. She politely smiled and clapped, aware that she was being watched. She saw Princess Laela sitting above, looking proud, clapping with all the decorum expected of a princess. She's probably already picturing being crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by him. That was when Cersei stopped clapping.

The only solace Cersei Lannister had that night was that Crown Prince Rhaegar was not what everyone was talking about after an afternoon of tilts. It was this mystery knight, who the smallfolk were already calling the Knight of the Laughing Tree, due to the shield he bore which was of a smiling weirwood. Cersei hadn't thought much of his chances when she first saw him. He had been the strangest and shortest knight she had ever seen. His armor was an assortment of ill fitting and matching pieces that looked to be strung together.

His sudden appearance had sparked whispers and gasps, but it was what followed that earned everyone's excitement and interest. Better this knight's story then Rhaegar's. She was already wary of what tomorrow could bring. Cersei did not want to watch another day of Rhaegar's triumphs in the tilts.

"Cersei?"

She looked up at once at the sound of her name coming from his lips. The smile came quickly as did that flutter, seeing him standing in the entranceway of her tent, but walking in his smile looked forced. Cersei cut the distance between them, "What is it?" She wrapped her arms around him. His posture was stiff, but she felt it begin to relax from her embrace, so she held him a little longer, resting her head against his chest. His hands were calloused, but soothing when they rested on her back.

Daeron had been summoned by his father after the jousts, and she hadn't seen him since. "Not here," His voice tickled her ear.

She looked up to see the concern in his pretty eyes. She nodded. She knew father's guards were milling just outside as was Daeron's. They were only giving them this private reprieve, she thought, out of loyalty or respect. That's what she wanted to think, to believe that she could inspire the same sort of devotion that her parents or Jaime could amidst her family's men.

The two didn't speak when they left her tent. She did not like his mood. This had been the second time that his father had wanted to talk to him this day alone. Cersei's stomach clenched, she studied his face and was relieved to see there were no signs of any new scars from his father.

Their guards followed at a respectable distance. Ser Gwayne was with the mixture of Targaryen and Lannister men ensuring that no one stepped too close to them in his effort to keep their conversation from being overheard. They were walking out of the Westerlands encampment.

"It's this mystery knight."

"What about him?"

"Father is certain he's an enemy," Daeron said softly.

She felt her heart hitch. It wasn't just the words that brought that cold feeling of dread to begin to pool inside her. It was what it could mean. Aerys was still the king. "An enemy?" She shouldn't have been surprised that he'd see the unassuming mystery knight as some sort of foe.

"Yes," She hadn't thought it was possible but his voice had grown even more solemn. "He's ranting and raving that the knight is an enemy to his reign. How he is a threat that is mocking him."

Cersei didn't know how to respond. Her eyes drifting around the rows upon rows of tents they walked by with what she thought was no real destination in mind. Besides a glance or a murmur she and Daeron were ignored, no one appeared brave enough to approach the dragon and the lioness. Even the ignorant can be right a time or two.

They turned, she remembered the group of men she saw near this spot from earlier in the day, but her eyes scanned the crowded surroundings, but saw no sign of them. Were one of them the mystery knight? Those men who were neither smallfolk or nobility. She suspected hedge knights, so she thought it could be possible one of them had been the Knight of the Laughing Tree. They had worn no colors just like the knight hadn't, except for that weirwood on his shield, but they had carried nothing, except those discarded scraps of yellow cloth.

"What did you say to him?" She knew the precariousness of having to speak with King Aerys. She had seen what it could cost, remembering Daeron's handsome face, bloodied and marred by cuts. And he was one of the few who were considered successful at it, but that hadn't stopped him from being attacked by his own father.

"I could not say much," Daeron admitted, sounding tired, "He was," he looked down, warring emotions played across his face, but she could not see them clearly.

"Daeron?" She put a finger to his chin, tipping his head up so she could see his lovely lilac eyes.

"He was terrified," He said quietly, "And terrifying."

It was an easy picture for her to conjure, but a tougher one to stomach given what it could mean. "What of Rhaegar?"

"Rhaegar?" Daeron seemed almost momentarily baffled by the mention of his brother. "Rhaegar was just as surprised and-"

Scared, she thought, but didn't finish for him. Cersei squeezed his hand.

"Father has all the kingsguard knights save for Ser Arthur and Gwayne attending him."

"What of the knight?" She pitied this unknown man, she doubted he had gone out on the list today to try to rouse the king's wrath.

"He's sent men into the camps," Daeron answered, "He wants the knight found at once."

Cersei didn't want to think about trying to find a stranger in a sea of so many people. The castle and the surrounding area were brimming with men from all Seven Kingdoms, nobility to smallfolk. It would be no easy or simple task.

"I-I," Daeron frowned.

"What?" She didn't like the soft, but noticeable change in his tone.

"I made a mistake," He confessed, "I gambled and I lost."

They were on the outskirts of the encampments. There were no people, only signs and sounds of them. The ground was beaten down by footprints and hoofprints caked into the mud. The latrines were off to the side, frequented by many, but thankfully the breeze carried none of those smells towards their position.

She had stayed quiet. She didn't want to press him despite the restless threshing she felt stirring in her chest. "Daeron?" Then again patience was never my virtue.

He gently pulled on her hand walking further away until even the latrines were out of sight. They found a small grove. The only sounds were from the birds in the branches, uncaring about her and her betrothed standing below them.

"I thought I could use him for my advantage," Daeron began, "The mystery knight to try to-"

She nodded, understanding what he meant, to use him against Rhaegar.

"Father was furious," Daeron didn't meet her eyes.

Cersei looked at him closely. She was certain she had seen no marks on him, but now that she was standing in front of him instead of at his side she saw faint red lines on his tunic. Cersei had been so distracted by his sudden presence in her tent and his mood that she never noticed them when she saw and hugged him.

She put a finger to one of the lines to discover that the red was not silk, but dried blood. "Daeron?"

He didn't respond.

Cersei didn't care about the knights who had accompanied them. She didn't care what they'd think or what they'd say, because she needed to know. She tugged on his tunic besides a wince he didn't try to stop her, ignoring the murmuring from the men behind her, she undid the black buttons. She hadn't even made it halfway when she saw it. There on his chest were four angry red marks cut into his skin. They were not deep and the smears of dried blood made it look worse then what it was, but it showed what she feared. She felt the icy dread spread through like a spider's web around her heart.

"He screamed at me," Daeron continued, "He tried to grab my throat but stumbled causing him to get my chest instead." He let out a bitter laugh.

"Daeron," Her hand was resting against his scarred chest. "We need to leave."

"We can't," He looked down at her with a sad smile, "Father has put out patrols. No one is to leave until he finds this Knight of the Laughing Tree."

Daeron:

I shouldn't have said it.

That look in Father's eyes, that gargled shout when he charged him.

Daeron had parried hundreds of attacks, dodged just as many strikes but he froze in the face of his father's wrath. It wasn't until father's long nails cut against his skin did he feel like he could move again. He steadied his attacker so his father wouldn't stumble. He wasn't thanked for it. Father hissed and squirmed and spat, and Daeron quickly let go. He steadied himself for another strike, but it didn't come.

What was I to do? Strike my father? My king? He had thought of the attack afterwards when he had been on his way to Cersei. If I had done that, Father would've arrested me and Rhaegar would've won.

"Ser Lonmouth claims he'll find the knight before midafternoon tomorrow," Robert's loud voice burst through his thoughts.

"Was that before or after your two's drinking?" Jaimed asked dryly from across Daeron.

"During," Robert corrected with that smile and infectious laugh.

Daeron welcomed his cousin's mirth. It helped to chase away the dark thoughts. He looked across to see Cersei was smiling too, but her green eyes didn't shine the way he liked when she was truly happy. He didn't tell his friends what his father told him. If he did he knew they would not be japing or laughing about this knight. Father hadn't announced his orders because he hadn't wanted to startle this poor knight, but that wouldn't stop Daeron from telling his friends after the feast.

He recognized the name of Robert's drinking companion, a stormland knight, who was loyal to Rhaegar not Robert. Richard had been one of Rhaegar's squires and had been knighted by him too. He suspected that Richard's words were less drunken boasting and more Rhaegar's orders.

I tried to use the knight too, brother, Daeron was so certain he could do it successfully, but he failed. He knew his father's anger burned like fire. He thought he could stroke it properly, but he got burned by it instead. There was little pain from the scratch, but it was a nasty reminder of how capricious his father was.

"Daeron?"

"Yes?" He felt his friends' eyes on him. He suspected he was asked something, but he wasn't listening. He drew it out by taking a sip from his glass. The Arbor Gold tasted sweet in his mouth, helping to wash away the bad taste of his father's mania.

"You're quiet about this Knight of the Laughing Tree , Cousin," Robert poked him, "Trying to hide your identity?"

"Prince Daeron cannot be the mystery knight, Robert," Elia said patiently, "He was in the stands."

"Ah," Robert had either forgotten that important detail or had never noticed it.

"He was sitting with me."

"An honest mistake then," Robert recovered, turning to Cersei, "Your beauty draws the eye, my lady," He flashed her a smile.

"So you're blaming my sister's beauty instead of the ale?" asked an amused Jaime.

Robert, who was holding his tankard almost to his lips, stopped. "Yes."

"Such praise, Robert," Cersei's smile was all show, but they all were fooled by it.

They were the only two who knew the cold fate that was awaiting this celebrated Knight of the Laughing Tree. Tonight they toast him, but tomorrow they'll bury him.

"Do you think we should return?"

Daeron looked down where Cersei didn't look the least bit inclined to leave despite her asking the question. She was currently using his shoulder as a pillow. She was beautiful in her red silk dress with golden embroidery. They were stretched out under a tall oak tree. What remained of their picnic scattered by their side. They had returned to the grove that they had stumbled onto yesterday. It had been her idea to try to find some peace and quiet before the afternoon of tilts.

The morning had plenty of excitement even if some of it dimmed with the crowd's disappointment of the mystery knight not returning. The Knight of the Laughing Tree did not know how fortunate he was by not attending. Daeron decided that it would be wiser to tread carefully and avoid his father before the afternoon tilts. He had already tried to use the knight once and it ended poorly.

"Do you want to?"

"No," She stirred so she could meet his inquisitive gaze, "But we're expected to."

"We're expected to do a lot of things," He then leaned down and kissed her.

"If we do not return my father will send out men."

"We're not without our chaperones," He pointed across the grove where the Lannister guards had been given their own food and ale. They were now gathered in a circle more intently focused on playing dice then watching them. That is no accident, but he was not going to complain.

She gave him a small, playful smile. "We'll miss the afternoon tilts."

"We can't have that," He noticed that she still made no effort to remove herself from his side.

"Prince Daeron?"

He was the one with the responsible chaperone. "Yes, Ser Gwayne?"

"The lady speaks true," The kingsguard knight had been off to the side, likely the only one doing his duty on this lazy and sunny afternoon.

"Thank you, Ser Gwayne," Cersei replied, that was when she reluctantly got herself to her feet.

Left with no other choice, he stood up too.

"Ser Gwayne?" Cersei called over to the kingsguard knight.

"Yes, my lady?"

"Would you give us a few moments alone, please."

Gwayne raised an eyebrow at that suspicious request.

"It would be appreciated," Cersei said with her sweet smile. "If we do not catch up with you in a time you think appropriate you have my permission to drag my betrothed the rest of the way."

The knight chuckled. "I can agree to those terms," He turned back to the Lannister men who were already packed. He gave the order and they followed him into the woods leaving Cersei and Daeron alone in the grove.

Cersei gets what she wants. Daeron was curious as to why she sent them on their way.

Her green eyes glimmered and her lips curled upwards. "I wanted a moment with you," She said, "A selfish moment," She kissed him.

"I won't complain," He brushed back some of her golden hair.

"A moment where we don't have to think about our fathers, or your brother," She went on, "Or what will become of us after this tournament." She kissed him again.

"You will become my wife," He assured her. He was about to say more, but a noise caused him to look up and towards the trees in front of them.

"What is it?" She was trying to follow his line of sight.

"I thought I heard something."

"It could just be Ser Gwayne coming to drag you back," She offered lightly.

Daeron wanted to smile, but he didn't. "We should get going." He put his other hand on the hilt of Dark Sister, a move that did not go unnoticed.

"Daeron?"

The rustling in front of them couldn't be ignored or overlooked. Daeron was going for his sword when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Prince Daeron," Ser Jonothor Darry stepped into the grove, behind him were several men all of whom were wearing House Darry's livery.

"What is the meaning of this?" Cersei demanded, undaunted at the face of so many guards against her.

"Treason," A new voice joined them. It was Jon Connington entering the grove with more than a handful of men, all of whom were wearing his house's colors.

Daeron made sure Cersei was as close to him as she could, while still keeping himself slightly in front of her. His fingers remained on the pommel of his sword. He looked over their new visitors, these intruders who were all armed and armored.

"You're under arrest, Prince Daeron," Connington was holding up a piece of parchment. He was smugly displaying it to show that it bore Aerys' seal.

Rhaegar you've been busy, Daeron saw his brother's intentions behind their father's words.

"You cannot be serious," Cersei tried to push her way forward, fury pushing aside any caution.

"Quiet," It was Ser Jonothor Darry who spoke despite Connington's pinched face showing he had wanted to be the one to say something.

"You were always one of my brother's dogs," Daeron said coolly to the kingsguard knight in front of him.

"I serve the king," He corrected, "As does Ser Gwayne, who remembered his vows," He told them, "At our approach, he accepted our orders and was accompanied back to Harrenhal."

"Liar!" Cersei snapped.

Jonothor turned to her. "Your Lannister guards were not so easily swayed."

Blood spilt, now that he was looking for it, he saw the red stains on some of the mens' armor. He felt a chill go up his back.

"You're a fool to attack a lion," Cersei growled at them.

Connington looked her over with contempt. "I don't see a lion, but a greedy bitch who's trying to steal what isn't hers."

"Don't."

Daeron had already taken two steps forward towards the Storm Lord, Dark Sister in hand before Darry's words cut through to him. The knight had put himself between him and Connington, the men-at-arms for Darry and Connington, bristled at his approach.

He still considered attacking Connington despite Darry's insistence on intervening. Jonothor is skilled, Daeron studied the knight in front of him, I could fight him, and I could kill him. It was the dozen men-at-arms behind them that stayed his hand.

"Forgive me, Jon," Daeron did not sheathe his sword, but he did lower it, "Dark Sister just wanted a kiss." He kept his eyes on Connington who was openly glaring back. "What exactly is this treason that has given my brother the belief he can arrest me with impunity?"

"The orders were from your father, the king," Connington corrected, "Rhaegar discovered your little plot, Daeron. To think you could best him," He snorted, "You were always jealous of him."

"It's a wonder you can breathe, Connington, with your nose so far up Rhaegar's arse," Daeron smirked upon seeing the stormlord's face begin to purple.

"Enough," Jonothor sounded annoyed, "You're to come back to the castle with us to face these charges."

"I'm flattered you brought so many men," Daeron saw no other purpose for them, but to insure his cooperation especially after they killed the Lannister guards. He wondered about Gwayne, he didn't believe his sworn shield would just bow meekly to this. He wouldn't do that to me.

"You speak of plots," Cersei cut in, "But these sound like lies to unjustly arrest my betrothed."

"They are not lies, my lady," Jonothor replied. "Prince Rhaegar found the mystery knight."

" The Knight of the Laughing Tree ?" Cersei asked, her anger momentarily receding to her surprise and confusion. "What does he have to do with any of this?"

"He wasn't a mystery knight," Connington corrected her sharply, "He was one of Daeron's men."

"What?" The surprise washed over him first, but it was the cold that sunk into him upon realizing what it was his brother was doing. Rhaegar had succeeded where I failed. He's pinning the mystery knight on me and Father believes him. He didn't know how he did it, but Rhaegar had apparently gone after and either found the knight or convinced their father he had, manipulating it all to make it look like Daeron was the enemy.

The timing was just as clever, he had to admit. Rhaegar sent his faithful men to arrest Daeron when the afternoon tilts were about to begin which meant many of Daeron's friends and men were there or already on the way unable to help him. By the time they're made aware of Daeron's arrest he'd already be in the crown's control.

"The knight confessed to everything, Daeron," Jonothor reported grimly. "All about your plot to steal your brother's throne after marrying your betrothed."

"Did he?" He wanted to laugh at the truth that could be found mixed in with all the lies.

All he had truly wanted was to marry Cersei. He had no qualms in residing in Summerhall with her, but Rhaegar wouldn't give him that. His brother couldn't give him peace, he schemed and threatened to the point that Daeron could take no more of it. I didn't want any of this.

My brother didn't need lies to arrest me just proof, he observed, But he couldn't find that so he did the easy thing and chose lies to give him the chance he's been looking for, he considered his brother's risky decision, Lies that can just as likely hurt or haunt him then they can me. Whatever plans Daeron may have put forward they did not involve a mystery knight whose identity he did not even know.

"I have been busy especially since I'm allies with a man I don't even know."

"Even when caught you mock and lie," Connington looked at him with disgust.

"Who is this knight?" Daeron was curious upon knowing who his brother had found to play this vital role in his plot to undo him. Neither Darry nor Connington looked in the mood to answer his question regarding him as if it was a jape and nothing more.

"He's dead," It was someone else who answered. Daeron turned around to see Maynard, his good sister's hired sword, behind him were a handful of men bearing the livery of House Mooton. Lord Commander Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent were with him. They were joined by Whent soldiers.

"This is a lot of men," Daeron remarked casually while quietly realizing the very poor circumstances that now found him and Cersei completely surrounded.

"Your brother is not a fool," Lord Commander Hightower replied.

No, I was, he thought, because of the predicament he now found himself in. While he had been away with Cersei, his brother had been busy.

"This belonged to your friend," Maynard tossed something at Daeron's feet.

He looked down to find himself staring at a wooden shield with the smiling weirwood tree painted on it, the standard for the mystery knight. He noticed the red finger prints along the edges and the smear of blood.

"I'm not surprised Rhaegar killed him," Daeron looked back up. "I cannot refute a dead man's lies."

Lord Commander Hightower moved forward. "Drop your sword, Daeron."

There were no titles or formalities to be observed. They didn't see him as a prince, but a traitor.

"This will be war." Cersei warned them, showing no sign of capitulating to their demands.

"No, it is over," Lord Commander Hightower replied solemnly, but his eyes were on Daeron.

"Cowards!" Cersei pointed an angry finger towards the three knights in white. Her fury and sharp tongue was working just as well as the threat of Dark Sister was at keeping the men back.

"We're following orders, my lady," Ser Oswell didn't look at either of them when he spoke. His tone was hardly convincing.

Neither Darry nor Hightower's presence had surprised Daeron. His brother chose well in picking them. He had never been close to either of them, but Ser Oswell had been one of his guards for many years, including when he was a child. Daeron could not deny the disappointing ache he felt at seeing the knight with them.

"Enough of this," Connington's patience had worn out, "Bind them both," He ordered. "We can return the Lady Lannister back to her father before any harm befalls her."

Seeing no other choice, he reluctantly sheathed Dark Sister. They grabbed his arms from behind.

That was when he heard shouting. Then there was chaos.