Hello, my dear readers! Long time, no see. My fault, I admit. I made a pause because my exams rolled in (I did better than I expected, so it was worth it), but then after they finished I hit a bit of a writer's block. Anyway. Here's some responses to some old reviews and a fresh chapter. I hope you enjoy.
Please review and let me know what you think because nothing gets the writer's juices flowing like a glowing review. Constructive criticism is good too.
[][][][Reviews][][][]
Once again, thank you to Darth-Vulturunus for being a wonderful beta reader.
ATP: I'm sorry. I don't quite understand what you're trying to say so I can't reply to your previous comment. Sorry
Hail King Cerion: I'm glad that you liked the conversation. The brothers' discussion of the future war and death was my favourite part of the chapter as well. Robert catching Leopold at his lies is also a good point to mention – he may be fat and lecherous and a bad father, but Robert is not always (sometimes) an idiot. Thank you for thinking that Leo and Arya have awesome scenes – I hope to continue making them. I'm glad that you noticed that Cersei is getting pretty comfortable with Leopold (comfortable for her, not for us) and to that I can say that since Jaime is not in the city and Leopold is probably the one that takes most after him and the son that loves Jaime most it seems like a natural inclination for this unnatural woman to try to substitute her twin with her son.
To answer your question about Leo being angry with the Tyrells for giving Renly some weapons and supplies – I would think that their support is comparable to the support the British gave the Confederate States during the American Civil War – it is help but it's not enough to commit them to Renly's cause or to recognise him as a claimant. Therefore, their support doesn't trespass the Golden Alliance and so Leo can't be angry with them for this.
To answer your other question – Baelish and Varys are characters that deal with the shadows (which is where I try to keep them) and their number one best quality is their ability to adapt to various circumstances. Putting Leo in the game will not falter their adaptability.
Shrednector15: I'm so happy that you like my writing. Please continue reviewing and telling me your thoughts. I love to read the reviews – whether they're praise or criticism. They really help to fuel my energy in writing the next chapter, which I usually start planning the day that I post the chapter. So don't be shy to review this chapter!
justsomerealguy: yeah nice bonding time between brothers. I bet you have that with your siblings (if you have any) being just like "Hey man, lets bond over the ways that we've planned to kill each other in the future. Cookie?" I'm glad that you liked my chapter and I hope that you like this one. Please don't forget to review.
Dj Bella Stormborn: I'm glad that you think this story is well-written and funny. Please write and tell me if this chapter is also well written and funny, or dull and boring. I accept all comments.
Shade: I love you and your consistency in reviewing every chapter without fault. I can always count on you. I'm glad that you liked the Arya and Leopold moments.
Yes, Arya has suspected that Leopold is involved in the capture of her father and, even if she didn't, she's pissed that he didn't tell her sooner. Jaime, like all pretty creatures, does not know how to keep his gob shut and has ruined a perfectly good plan of diplomacy. The Lannister indeed do have an important hostage win Ned Stark, but also a very volatile situation. They can't let him go because Jaime just blurted what he did about Bran and they can't keep him without the North rising against them – so read on to find out how that mess will be dealt with. Interesting that you think Baelish will kill him – that's something for me to consider – but rest assured that Littlefinger is fully capable of stirring up trouble without knifework.
The Leopold and Joffrey conversation was one of my favourite – an opportunity for the brothers to make their terms before tearing each other to pieces. Over a drink was the best way to do this. You pointed out the irony in Robert's death ensuring Cersei the safety of her children and his coming death putting them in danger – perhaps she doesn't see it that way. Perhaps she, like Myrcella, believes that talk of war between Leopold and Joffrey is fibs and that family loyalty (as well as the 'indestructible' might of Tywin Lannister) will keep them at peace. She's about to be proven wrong.
You are right about Tywin Lannister, but you seem to forget that there is a certain snake at court who wishes nothing more than to extract his revenge. Read on to find out more. Thank you for your review. I love you, mate.
Coldblue2015: My beloved reviewer, I have answered your message already I believe.
Enclave Ranger: Thank you for your review. I believe the sentiment of Leopold being an Ivar the Boneless kind of character in the future has already been shared by some of my other reviewers. Unfortunately, this is Westeros. Although a valued commodity, brawn is not as fundamental to survival, especially amongst the aristocracy, as it would be in a Viking society. Although hardly a rule and varying from person to person, a royal Prince would rarely fight on the battlefield, so I see no real reason for Leopold to risk his life, since already an easy target with his immobile twisted legs. That being said, perhaps it would cheer you to know that Leopold has something significantly more interesting than brawn up his sleeve – his innovation: his iron dragon.
Matt.H : You know, thank you so much. It is so bloody rare to have someone just say "well done! Bravo! You executed this specific thing well in the chapter and I thought it was utter perfection." You have no idea how many times someone has been like "update plz. Can't w8 2 read" or "here's my vision of what your character should be" – it's a really dissatisfying thing to hear after I put blood, sweat and tears into the chapter, but when I received your comment I swear tears welled in my eyes.
Thank you so much for thinking this was an OC that stood out amongst other characters. Robert's and Cersei's conversation was exactly where I drew my idea for this encounter – that and the imagery of two parents divorcing and splitting their assets before a law court – which from Robert and Cersei is not a far away leap. It's very easy to look at Joffrey and think that he has no feelings because he's pure evil and its very easy to think that a hero, such as Leopold, is incapable of malicious, murderous hatred, however I had tried to show that in Chapter 6. Please keep reading and I hope to read more of your thoughts about my work.
[][][][Tywin][][][]
When Eddard Stark demanded that Jaime Lannister be put on trial for the attempted murder of his son, Tywin Lannister was almost tempted to grant the idiotic man his demands. He felt so furious with Jaime for disobeying both his own orders of doing nothing and Leopold's orders of conveying the hostage peacefully.
With a click of his fingers, Tywin's guards escorted Eddard Stark to a guest chamber befitting a lord. He was to be put under a comfortable house arrest. Tywin was left alone with his oldest son in the cold, rich Great Hall of Casterly Rock.
Looking at his man child of a son, Tywin suddenly had the thought that perhaps the weight of this proud house was too heavy of a burden for Jaime to handle. Perhaps, for all his golden looks and glories, he had always been weak – not in body, but in mind – and he, Tywin, out of fear or otherwise, had always overlooked it. The Lannister Lord did not think himself wrong for the burdens to which he had subjected his children and the thought of pity never dared cross his mind, but Tywin possessed a faint sense of disappointment towards the forty-year-old knight and himself for never seeing this tragic flaw.
"Why does Lord Stark think you murdered his son?" Tywin demanded cooly. "If you had to kill some brat, I would have trusted you to do it cleverly."
"Lord Stark had hit his head on the road. I don't know where such fickle ideas had come from," Jaime said, waving dismissively, but nonetheless not allowing his eyes to meet with his father. He was acting so infantile that it made Tywin's belly churn in disgust.
"You don't have to convince me of your innocence. I'm not the one threatening you to chop your head off, however tempting the idea is. What exactly do you plan to do with him now that he demands a trial against you? Keep him a prisoner in Casterly Rock forever? The king might have something to say about that."
Tywin watched as Jaime's lips broke into a smirk. "If he lives long enough to realise where his friend is, he is more than welcome to come and collect Ned Stark himself."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Jaime shrugged. "Nothing."
"Do you wish for you nephew to inherit five or six kingdoms when Robert dies?" Tywin asked, genuinely curious. "Unless, I'm very much mistaken, Joffrey already has plans to fight the North, do you really want to fuel those plans by giving the Northerners a cause to rally behind?"
Jaime looked around the walls of Casterly Rock, as if bored by the conversation and wanting to move on. "I didn't know my father, the great Tywin Lannister, was so averse to war."
Tywin stood straight. He did not need a step up to tower over Jaime. He loomed over by the giant of his spirit, reputation and legacy. "The only reason that I might seem averse to war is that I'm too old to fight one. I am not long for this world. Can you honestly tell me that my heir will be happy to fight and win a war against the North, if I start one?"
Jaime shrugged, nonchalantly. "The only way to learn is to do."
"I'm aware of that," Tywin said. He turned his body away from Jaime to look at a sculpture of a proud lion crafted out of guided steel that looked like solid gold. For over 40 years, the Lannister name had been his to mould and sculpt and manipulate into whatever form he wanted. Now, with the impending thought that it would pass into the hands of another, Tywin felt powerless. His successor was a mere boy.
He had to trust a boy.
"He's a smart boy," Jaime said, as if reading his father's thoughts. He said the words with a sort of pride, though for what possible responsibility Tywin knew not of. "I know it. There are ideas in his head that will change our family dynasty forever. You have nothing to fear in leaving the Lannister name to him."
"I hope you're right," Tywin growled. "It's a shame that I cannot say the same for you. You have been blessed with gifts that few men possess – a powerful name and youth – and what have you done with these gifts? Nothing. Served as a glorified bodyguard for two kings; a drunk and a madman." Tywin spat the words out with bitterness.
He was mourning his son. A son who would never fulfil the hopes that Tywin had piled upon him. Jaime was nothing more than a disappointment to Tywin, just like Tyrion, if by a different method. They were both his greatest mistakes. They had failed him.
"Then I hope your grandson will be able to better use these apparent gifts and not be as cursed as his uncles." Jaime replied, hotly, before he stormed out of his father's presence. The proud lord did not spare him a look and continued to gaze at the hulking sculpture of a muscled, golden, fierce lion.
[][][][Leopold][][][]
The King's chambers reeked of blood and medicine. Robert Baratheon lay upon his blood splattered bed, breathing heavily with his eyes half closed.
Joffrey sat on one side of the bed and Leopold on the other. Their mother, Pycelle, Baelish, Varys, Ser Barristan and a few other courtiers were also present. The courtiers stood around the king's bed as if it was a coffin, silent and seemingly solemn, waiting for the last breath. Myrcella and Tommen were not present – probably because they were deemed too young to witness death.
It was a croaking, weak voice that emitted from the King's throat. "Leo…"
"Your Grace…?" Leopold approached closer.
"None of this pomp!" He suddenly yelled. "Come 'ere! Allow your dying father some last words."
"Of course, Father," Leopold said, nervously. Should the king die in this room, while the current members still resided here, Leopold would never be able to leave the capital. Naturally, he was very eager to leave as soon as possible. Orders had already been given to his staff to pack his belongings, saddle horses and kidnap, if necessary, his wife and sister-in-law.
"I've made many mistakes. I haven't been a good father to either of you, boys, I admit that." Robert turned to Joffrey. "I should have spent more time with you. Taught you how to be a man." He rolled his tired head to look at Leopold. "I'm sorry for sending you so far from home. I should not have forced another man to be a father to you. Please forgive me, my sons, for an old man's mistakes. Please, if you have any love to spare for me, promise me that you will not go to war. The Seven Kingdoms tolerated me. They'd know no better times if you ruled together."
Leopold heard all these pleas but remained silent. Robert was delusional. He was foolish to think that his sons would make peace. He was mad to think that anything would be done because it was his dying wish. There was not a soul in this room that bore him any great love. Cersei murdered him; even if she hadn't stabbed him, she provided the blade. Baelish and Varys were scheming rats, eager to appease their next benefactor. Pycelle was in the pockets of the Lannisters anyways. Ser Barristan had served and loved the kings and princes that Robert murdered. Joffrey's crown was at stake in this room. Leopold, himself, was present because it was a direct order from his king; it seemed that Robert's rage about Leopold's latest offence had been fleeting. It loosened with the grip of a grasping deathbed.
The one man that truly did love Robert was hundreds of miles away, in the Westerlands, being guarded under Leopold's orders. Perhaps, Robert knew that. Perhaps that was why Leopold was summoned - to ensure the safety of Lord Stark.
The King summoned Pycelle to scribe his will. Joffrey would inherit his crown and titles with Ned Stark being the Lord Protector until he came of age. Myrcella and Tommen inherited large pensions that would make them both live comfortably until the end of their lives. Pensions which, Leopold knew incidentally, were non-existent in the royal treasury - his siblings were to be dependent on the generosity of the King forever, unable to inherit anything else. Robert had either truly gone mad, wasn't aware of the full state of his treasury or simply didn't care by this point.
For himself, Leopold inherited a feeble attempt at a plea. Robert had bequeathed him his stock of wines and salts, his winter wolf furs, his fierce warhorse and his famous warhammer.
Anger boiled inside of Leopold. Joffrey got a crown with Seven Kingdoms and his younger siblings got barrels of gold, but he was given these worthless articles of nostalgia. He had wine, salt, fur and soldiers of his own in Casterly Rock. He had no need for warhorses or warhammers.
Wine and salt were traditional gifts for those estranged friends or guests. The giving of personal items, such as a trusty steed or a weapon, was a common practise in the Stormlands to show affection or lack of resentment. The furs were undeniably a nod to the Starks and the duty that Leopold owed to their patriarch. Knowing this information, Leopold was more furious with Robert.
"Son… please…" He had never seen Robert beg for anything, even for something that he valued. Robert Baratheon always took what he wanted. Kings didn't beg, after all. Princes, however, sometimes did beg. Leopold remembered begging: for someone to heal his legs, for a punishment for Joffrey, for not being sent away to the home of strangers, for the release of his uncle and for the love of a father before being disowned. Robert didn't comply to any of these. So Leopold's green eyes hardened and there was a look of hatred that dimmed any hopes that Robert may have had. The king breathed deeply, defeated. "Leave. All of you and give me some milk of the poppy! Let me die in peace!"
Through all his slow, smoking hatred for the King, Leopold only now realised that he was free to leave the capital… and that he didn't have a lot of time to do so.
[][][][Leopold][][][]
The door swung open and a steward rushed in to help the son of the King, but Leopold waved him away. "Are all my belongings packed? Anyway, that doesn't matter. Have them sent when they're ready. My wife, good-sister and I will ride ahead! Are the steeds ready? We need to leave the city now. The old King is not long for this world and the next King will be less than kind."
After getting over the apparent shock, the steward immediately sprung to action. "Uh, your belongings are almost packed. The steeds are ready in the courtyard. I had that Dornish horse that Prince Oberyn gave you for your wedding day saddled, he insisted."
"Who insisted?" Leopold asked, croocking an eyebrow.
"I did," said the voice of a very familiar Dornish prince. "I'm coming with you. Finally, a reason to get out of this wretched city."
That unsettled the Prince. "You're coming with me to Casterly Rock? Why?"
Oberyn shrugged. "My brother has sent word that he desires further negotiations about the Golden Alliance between our two great families. I wish to speak to Lord Tywin and I figured you, a lone Prince on the run from a King with two girls under your protection, could use the aid of a friend."
"How do you know I'm leaving the city?"
"Please, I have eyes and ears everywhere. It's also not that difficult to deduce. Robert is dying. Joffrey is about to ascend. Therefore, the capital is not safe for you and, if I do say so myself, a crippled boy with two girls under his protection is not any more safe on the Goldroad. Let me join you."
Leopold sighed. He knew there was a scheme in the viper's eyes, but his mind was too hot with the hatred towards Robert and Joffrey, with the plans of how best to get out of the city, and with the precise location of his wife to wonder about that scheme. "Fine." He turned to the steward. "Where are the girls?"
"I sent the guards some time ago. They should have returned by now," the steward said, nervously.
It was then that the door opened to two men, a Lannister and Stark guard, standing in the door with Arya Stark between them. "What is the meaning of this?" Her scorching glare was for Leopold only.
"We need to leave the city now. Robert is dying," he said, ignoring the glare. "Where is your sister? We have to leave."
"I don't know," Arya shrugged in a way that pressed on a certain vain in Leopold's mind, as if he was a parent asking his child to do some meaningless chore. The safety of her sister was not a meaningless chore!
"Well, then you better find out because if we have to leave without her we will! I do not need to remind you that your sister would be left absolutely defenceless and vulnerable in this city of psychos and rats and rapists, all of whom are infinitely worse than the monster that you make me out to be!" Leopold roared at her and for a moment he witnessed a spark of fear in her eyes. Genuine fear in Arya was a rare sight.
"She had her sewing lesson with the Septa," Arya said, almost timidly.
Leopold turned to the Stark guard. "Find her and bring her to the courtyard immediately. Use force if necessary. We have to leave now!" He left with a curt nod.
"'Use force'?!" Arya's courage and outrage returned.
"Like I said, we're in a hurry," Leopold said, before turning to Oberyn. "I hope you are packed. We leave immediately."
"Oh don't worry about me," Oberyn grinned. "I've been packed for weeks. My horse is waiting and my household will leave after us. Do you require assistance down the many stairs of this wretched castle?" He looked at the bothersome crutches that were clenched around Leopold's biceps and which supported his full weight. With a sigh of resignation, Leopold nodded and allowed his Dornish friend to pick him up bridal style and carry him to the courtyard. Arya trailed behind them, surprisingly meek after Leopold's outburst.
"My prince!" Leopold turned and saw another problem - Leofrick Wyntworth - his newest responsibility. "I heard you were leaving the capital."
"Yes, urgently, presently. You are coming with us."
That took the boy by surprise. "With you? Where?"
"To the Westerlands. Forget your belongings, there is no time for them. Come with us to the courtyard, saddle a horse and we leave immediately. I'll have a servant pack your belongings and bring them with mine when the household discharges. That is an order!" Leopold barked and the party continued to descend into the courtyard where the horses were kept.
[][][][Sansa][][][]
It was half way through her daily sewing lessons with the Septa that two members of the Kingsguard and five of the Baratheon guards arrived at her all greeted and bowed to her chivalrously and told her that Prince Joffrey had sent them to protect her.
These were dangerous times, they said. She ought to be cautious, they warned her. She will thank the Prince for his thoughtfulness, she told them.
They stood their guard, while she continued with her sewing. Within the hour, some other men arrived at her door. They were Lannister men and there were only three of them.
"Lady Sansa, you must come with us at once. Prince Leopold has ordered us to bring you to the courtyard," one of the Lannister guardsmen said.
It was one of the Kingsguard, Ser Boros, who answered her. "And why would Prince Leopold be so presumptuous as to believe that Prince Joffrey's betrothed will go wherever he pleased?"
"Because, as her brother in law, he is the head of the Stark family in King's Landing until Lord Stark returns," another man answered. Sansa noticed that all the men in the room had their hands on their swords. "Lady Sansa, please come."
"I would disagree, gentlemen. We are here on the Crown Prince's orders. As a ward of the crown, until the King gets better, it is the Crown Prince who rules her head," the other Kingsguard, Ser Oakheart, said, just before the bells started to bang. Bells of doom. Bells of death. The King was dead. Long live the new King! "My apologies, it is the King's orders for Lady Sansa to remain here. It is treason to disobey a king."
The three Lannister men seemed very unsure. One of them considered running away. Another wanted to fight. The third looked lost somewhere between the two. Sansa only had one thing on her mind: Robert was dead and Joffrey is now the King. Her love was now a King. The thought raced in her mind like a rabid dog.
"Lannisters, if you wish for Lady Sansa to come quietly with you, you'll have to get through the seven of us first. Your move, boys," Ser Boros said. There was a mad and dangerous glint in his eyes. He was going to kill these men. He was going to wipe their hot blood of his sword tonight.
[Leopold]
As Oberyn helped Leopold onto the Dornish mare, Terror, a single Lannister guard ran into the courtyard. He had blood splattered over his armour and a terrified look in his eye.
"My Prince… the bells… the Kingsguard… Lady Sansa," the man breathed with panic and fear in his face.
"Calm down, man," Oberyn barked after he finished with saddling his friend. "Breathe and then speak."
"Prince Joffrey ordered some men to protect Lady Sansa. There were two Kingsguards there too. They prevented us from reaching her. My two comrades have been botched."
Leopold pushed his fingers into his eyes. It seemed like there was nothing he could do for Sansa any more than to save himself. More terrifying, perhaps, was the knowledge that Joffrey had anticipated this and had planned ahead of time. Perhaps he had thought about Leopold's escape from the city.
Just then, a girl walked into the courtyard, decked out in riding gear and a determined look upon her face.
"Myrcella what are you doing here?" Leopold asked, through gritted teeth. His mind was on his good-sister not blood-sister.
"Coming with you," she said simply, mounting the horse that was meant for Sansa. "Don't think for a moment that I don't understand what is going on."
Leopold said nothing. He needed to make a choice now. He wanted to send someone to go after Sansa, but that would risk his and his party's safety on the off chance that they might be able to overpower the guards and bring Sansa with them. It would be more prudent, however, to leave her at the mercy of his brother for a short time and then return with an army and put an end to the insufferable creature that was now a King.
That brought on a new, more horrifying, thought.
The King was now dead. Now, there was a new King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Half an hour later, the little birds reported to Varys and the new king that his brother, sister and good-sister rode out of King's Landing with only a few guards and friends. The king's betrothed had remained, guarded.
[][][][Tyrion][][][]
It was the smoke, visible from miles away, that gave away his father's mens' location. Tyrion, Bronn and the legion of wildlings that he was leading set their course for whatever poor settlement was subjected to his father's pride.
Surely enough, it was the Mountain that was overseeing the burning of this nameless village and its fields.
"Sir Gregor!" Tyrion greeted the commander of the band of brigands.
The hulk of a man turned and sneered at him. "Lord Imp? Thought you were rotting in a Vale prison."
"I got out," Tyrion said simply, looking sadly at the devastation that his family was responsible for. "You have ravens so that I could send my father, Lord Tywin, a message?"
Gregor seemed to ignore the questioned and looked at the gang of wildlings that stood behind Tyrion. "Who're they?"
"They are people that a Lannister owes a debt to. A raven, Ser Gregor?"
"Wildlings," Gregor growled.
"Debtees," Tyrion corrected and persisted. "Now, a raven, if you please Ser?"
Eventually, Gregor did allow Tyrion access to a raven, some paper and a bottle of ink. Tyrion scribbled down a message to his father - that he was free, safe and within Lannister grips. Against his better judgement, Tyrion also mentioned that he should stop the sack of the Riverlands, though he knew it was futile to ask his father of this. Tywin was defending the family name, not Tyrion.
"That nephew of yours was going to exchange you for the Wolflord, I heard," Gregor told Tyrion. "Sharp as a whip, that one - no need for bloodshed. Lord Tywin had other ideas though."
That startled Tyrion. "The Wolflord? Leopold was going to trade Ned Stark for me? Leopold doesn't have Ned Stark to trade."
"Ser Jaime kidnapped him from the streets of King's Landing after your capture. Apparently, the Wolflord is still at Casterly Rock and you walk free."
Tyrion saw the glint in the Mountain's savage face. Of course he was happy - this situation meant war.
[][][][Joffrey][][][]
The Iron Throne was now finally his. After so many years of waiting, he was now finally the king.
Greedy, jeweled fingers stretched and wrapped tightly around the handles of the Iron Throne. Joffrey inhaled the scent of the faint drops of blood on rusty metal. He was married to the throne now. It was his and only his.
"You sent for me… your grace?" Sansa Stark's voice brought Joffrey out of his revelry. He looked down at the northern girl who had entered the Throne Room. His Throne Room.
"Yes, Lady Sansa. I'm a king now."
"I congratulate you, your grace," she bowed her head and curtsied.
"Hm… your grace. It rolls off the tongue." He breathed in the scent of the Throne again, as if drawing strength from it. "I heard that my brother's men tried to dislocate you from your sewing lesson. My guards had to placate them. I'm sorry if all the blood and all the gore scared you, Lady Sansa."
Sansa did not speak. The violent flashes of red were freshly printed on her mind.
"Of course, if you are going to marry me, you are going to need to see a lot of blood and violence. It is a difficult job, to be the Crown." He smirked. He knew he was torturing her. "But why oh why did my dear crippled brother think that he should have you come with him."
"I don't know your grace," Sansa said simply.
"Tell me, if my guards were not there, would you have gone with him?"
"Your grace, if your guards were not there, his guards would have taken me to him. I would not have had a choice." She didn't have a choice in either situations to be honest.
"Very well. What if it was my brother standing there, in that room, instead of the guards. My weak, crippled little brother and he was asking you to come and run away with him to the Westerlands. Would you have done so? He's weak. You could easily either push him away or outrun him." Joffrey wanted to know the truth desperately. Leopold's words from before, about being forever tortured for being unloved, still haunted him.
"I would have told him that my place was here, with you," Sansa said cautiously. There was something deranged in Joffrey's eyes.
Joffrey grinned and sat back. Leopold was wrong after all. This girl was so in love with him she was eating out of his hand. "Do you love me, Lady Sansa?"
Sansa would have blushed, if she did not see the stewing, revolting figure of a boy drunk on the prospects of kinghood. He looked as if he would like to make love to the metal chair of swords. He was in the heats of passion with the crown. The emerald eyes were looking at the sky to such an extreme that she could only see the whites of his eyeballs. "Of course, my king," her instincts made her say the words even while she felt all previous affection for him drain from her heart, like wine in a barrel that was smashed with a hammer.
Joffrey only grinned more from her words, his eyes transfixed on the sky. "Good. Then, come here, Lady Sansa."
She approached slowly and cautiously. Unsure of what he would ask her to do. It was only when she reached the top step when he finally looked at her and grinned, wickedly, evilly. He said nothing, but his hands moved to his trousers and pulled down his underclothes to reveal his member.
Sansa's eyes grew wide with the obscenity of his actions and she immediately looked away. A blush of embarrassment crept up her neck and face. Of all the things that she expected from Joffrey, this was not one of them.
"If you love me, lick it," he said, vilely.
"Your grace!" She gasped.
"You will do it. I order you as your love, but I can order you as your king."
"Your grace… it would be improper for us to do such… things… before we are married," she said, before realising that it was not much time that she had bought herself with this excuse.
"Only if it produced bastards in your belly. This will do no such thing. What's the matter, Lady Sansa? Do you not love me? It is a great crime to lie to a king."
A bead of sweat formed on Sansa' brow. This was absurd! Her brain couldn't think of a way out. What he was suggesting! It was horrid. Unseemly. Unchivalrous! Unkingly! There was something dangerous and terrifying thumbing in a vein inside of Sansa's head. Panic. Panic was pounding with the strength and sharpness of a thousand axes.
"Well…" Joffrey demanded, expectant. "I'm waiting."
The sound of footsteps echoed around the walls and they were the most wonderous noise that Sansa had ever heard, whoever they belonged to. She turned around and noticed that Joffrey had hidden his vulgarity back into his trousers. The Commander of the Citywatch with some of his soldiers entered the room.
"Your grace," the commander bowed before Joffrey. "The Princes Leopold and Oberyn, Princesses Myrcella and Arya, and some servants have left King's Landing."
"Good. The war is about to start," Joffrey smirked. "You're all alone now, Lady Sansa."
A creeping, cold shiver ran up Sansa's spine as that reality dawned on her.
"Lord Commander... call for a Small Council meeting. There is much to do today," Joffrey commanded the man, before turning to Sansa and whispering to her, dangerously, "we're going to continue this."
[][][][Leopold][][][]
The journey to Casterly Rock was two weeks long. A whole fortnight of inescapable glares from Arya, sleeping in a saddle or on a bed of grass, losing crevasse with Oberyn or cards with Marcella. A whole fortnight of being haunted by knowing that he had abandoned his good-sister alone in a dangerous city with Joffrey as its king. A whole fortnight of bad dreams and torment and self-loathing.
Leopold never wanted to reach Casterly Rock more than he did on this journey.
"I know you hate me," Leopold said to Arya during one of the long marches down the Goldroad. "But I'm willing to bet that it's not half as much as I hate myself." Arya said nothing. "I couldn't go back for Sansa. We wouldn't have been able to escape the city ourselves. I couldn't prevent my uncle from kidnapping your father, but your mother kidnapped my other uncle."
"You betrayed me," Arya mumbled. "And my whole family. Robert was right."
"Robert had absolutely no idea what he was talking about and neither do you!" Leopold yelled at her and rode forward.
The problem with their feud was that both of them, from each of their perspectives, were in the right. The only way for Arya to sympathise with him was to walk around in his crooked boots, learn about his parent's secret and harbour the same passionate hatred for and history with Joffrey as he did.
"Marriage problems?" Oberyn asked, grinning wickedly.
"How do you deal with women? I can't out-logic or out-smart or out-talk my way out of this argument. I can't say that I wouldn't do whatever I did again if I had the choice. So, what do I do?"
"Let me give you one piece of advice that will serve you until the day that you die. I promise. Never ever try to tell a woman that she's wrong. Don't try to use logic or reason with women. It won't work for you. You'll just dig a very deep hole for yourself." Oberyn laughed.
Leopold looked at his friend. He was in the grey years of his forties, a lifelong bachelor with a harem of women and a large litter of children. Oberyn, an adventurer who lived life to the fullest of its capacity, was a good person to take advice from, but that did mean that Leopold would follow it.
Frustrated, angry and full of self-loathing, Leopold kicked his horse hard and rode ahead of the party at full speed. Perhaps, he thought, that if he rode fast enough he could outrun his problems.
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