15 Calm Before The Storm

In the following morning, I asked to access my tournament winnings and so Robert redirected me to Littlefinger who was more than happy to lead the way. Renly Baratheon happened to already be with him so I ended up accompanying both of them. They seemed to be rather good friends which was true… at least, from the books.

"I haven't formally introduced you to my nephew, Edric of the House Baratheon." Renly Baratheon looked at Littlefinger then to me. "And this is Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin and Lord of the Fingers in the Vale. Most call him by another name… Littlefinger. Not difficult to imagine why."

Renly Baratheon hinted at his short stature.

"Not all are so blessed physically… some men have other talents." Littlefinger remarked, smiling back as he pointed to his head.

"That's how you lost the bet in the Tourney, eh? Your greater intellect." Renly Baratheon chuckled, turning to me. "The fool bet a hundred gold dragons on the Kingslayer and the hungry hound struck him down right off his horse."

"The Kingslayer was the better choice, regardless. I had not expected the Hound to bite the hand that fed it… nor the Kingslayer to fall so low." Littlefinger shrugged. "Such events can be unpredictable, I suppose."

"Hahaha… what great excuses!" Renly Baratheon laughed. "The Kingslayer may have been the 'better' choice as you say but the Hound was the right one." 

"The Hound… where is he now?" I wondered, stroking my chin. "Was he not with the Lannisters who escaped King's Landing?"

"Aye, he was." Renly nodded. "He is held in chains in the dungeons of the Red Keep, so I've heard. The King may seek to make use of such a deadly warrior… though, I doubt the Hound would turn his back on the Lannisters. Even if he is simply their dog, he is a loyal one."

"He struck Jaime off his horse in a joust so why not in a real battle?" Littlefinger questioned.

"Seems that you're hurt over your loss of gold dragons." I stated, smiling slightly.

"He surely is." Renly chuckled.

"You know." Littlefinger smiled, turning to me. "Thirty thousand gold dragons is quite the fortune… ah, have you ever looked to ease the worries on your mind? After all, losing a loved one and being expected to fulfill an heir's duties is quite the sudden change. You've seen the Street of Silk once before, haven't you?"

"Don't corrupt my dear nephew with your whores." Renly Baratheon remarked, shaking his head. "The boy has no need for bastards of his own, nor the fury of both the King and Hand."

"I find it amusing that His Grace indulges in whores and yet he expects his son to be without fault in that regard." Littlefinger stroked his chin. "What's the worst he could do? The legitimisation of a bastard cannot be undone. Regardless, my intent is a bit more innocent. Easing one's sorrows is as simple as a warm embrace."

"My nephew doesn't need a whore's embrace nor is he lacking love." Renly laughed. "Give the boy some wine and he'll charm any pretty lady at court."

I smiled, knowing it to be true. People say I almost kissed Sansa Stark… and even though I don't remember, I don't doubt it at all. I tend to become a whole different animal when I'm drunk.

"He does not even need the wine." Littlefinger chuckled. "Still, such a fortune should be wisely used to benefit you. It would be wasted laying around without a proper use. If you so wish, you may even grant some of it to me… on interest, of course. I tend to make the most of gold."

"Of course, there is some truth to that. He is the master of coin from his talent alone." Renly nodded.

"... I'd have to think about that." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "Currently, the only thing on my mind is positively contributing to the war effort."

"I'm sure you will accomplish that much." Littlefinger replied, stopping before a specific door and opening it with a key. He opened the door and presented me with six massive chests full of gold. "Six chests with five thousand gold dragons each. Not a single coin is missing, I assure you that much."

"Counting all of that would be quite the hassle." Renly Baratheon chuckled. "Mayhaps you did steal a few? I scarcely doubt you thought Edric would count every coin."

"I would not go so low as to steal from our prince." Littlefinger frowned slightly as he denied Renly's accusation, shaking his head. "As I said, not a single coin is missing. Unless a ghost stole a few… it should all be there."

"That would be your excuse?" Renly chuckled.

"I'd assume the master of coin can count." I remarked, shrugging my shoulders.

"Hahahaha…" Renly laughed. "That's quite the assumption!"

"..." Littlefinger let out a chuckle as he raised the key and gave it to me. "The prince has your humour."

"Of course he does. Could you imagine if the boy had been raised by Stannis instead?" Renly Baratheon shook his head. "We would have a stern-faced Edric."

"True enough." Littlefinger agreed, nodding. "The court would be less colourful. Regardless, my duty is done. If you would excuse me, prince."

Littlefinger turned to leave.

"If you have the time, I'd like to learn a thing or two from you," I stated, stroking my chin. 'Imagine if I could manage gold as well as him? With the right intentions, I could make the Realm far richer than ever before. Though... Littlefinger is Littlefinger.'

'He is someone who promotes war and triggers chaos...'

"Learn from me?" Littlefinger paused, speaking with a tone of surprise. "I am no warrior, my prince. There is little you can learn from me other than losing."

"No, not that. I want to learn from the finest master of coin we've had." I countered. "You offered to return my gold to me on interest. Well, why can't you also teach me how you do it? In war, money is among the most important factors… being able to use it effectively is of paramount importance."

"That's the first time a prince complimented Littlefinger's work." Renly remarked, smiling slightly. "Are you turning red, master of coin?"

"No, not quite." Littlefinger chuckled. "I see that prince Edric is very wise for his age and quite unlike his father. I must ask, however, is that an order or a request, my prince?" 

"Whichever gets you to do it." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "You wouldn't turn away a prince, would you?"

"Certainly not." Littlefinger continued his walk. "See me when you have the time, I suppose."

"Since when did you become so curious about gold?" Renly questioned. 

"Since I had plenty of it." I replied, smiling. "I have to thank you for that archery contest, uncle."

"Well-earned." Renly nodded. "Well, I have duties to attend to as well. Your father plans to send me south and inspire the lords there to give as many swords as they are willing."

"The Tyrells and their bannermen should be enough, I think. Most of the Lannister forces are in the Riverlands which should leave the Westerlands open for an attack." 

"Indeed… the plan of attack was made from your strategy." Renly nodded. "However, if the Lannisters retreat quick enough… it will all be in vain."

"Robert's threat will certainly make Tywin ride out to meet him, I think. He wouldn't want all three of his grandchildren to die. Tywin may be ruthless… but to his own blood, his legacy? I'm not so sure."

"What good are those bastards to him?" Renly shook his head. "They are not even Lannisters by name."

"I'm not a Storm anymore, am I? Kings can change that."

"I suppose you are right." Renly turned away. "Tywin is a strange man. Trying to see into his mind is not a simple thing to do… we can only hope for the best."

'While Robert is king, the best is Tywin's and Jaime's heads on spikes.'

…

I took Dorian to my new treasury, rewarding him as promised with a hundred gold dragons alongside his normal wage.

"What do you think would be the best course of action with all this gold?" I questioned.

"Give it all to me." Dorian grinned, playing with his dagger. 

"I'd ask you to be more truthful."

"Hm… well, what is it that you want to do? Be richer, buy the loyalty of men, hire swords… with this much, you could certainly do plenty."

"I want to lead my own men. Get more experience with leading…"

"Your father has raised his banners." Dorian chuckled. "There is no need to buy men, plenty of peasant boys and men will rally with the thought of fighting for their King and the Realm. Or rather, they will be forced to. Just ask him for a few."

"Wouldn't hurt to have more, would it?"

I need men who have some experience with fighting, not green boys.

"... Aye, I could bring in a company or two if that's what you want. I must warn you first, sellswords are only loyal to gold and a great majority lack any discipline."

"Discipline can be taught and loyalty earned… no? Pay for their loyalty with gold and then give them a proper reason to follow you."

"It takes quite the individual to garner the true loyalty of a sellsword." Dorian remarked, sheathing his dagger. "To say that you couldn't be one such person… wouldn't be correct. You are the sole prince of the Seven Kingdoms, a towering presence and a great warrior with the bowskill of a god. Well, I can make it happen. I know how to deal with these kind of people… as I am one."

"If I gave you say, ten thousand. How many sellswords would that lead to?"

"Depends for how long. If you want a year, then you could call upon a good few hundred. Mayhaps even half a thousand if you promise loot and the like."

"I need fifty to a hundred to start." I replied, stroking my chin. "How much would that be, a thousand?"

"Stingy bastard you are." Dorian laughed. "You want a household guard, eh?"

"They would be better than some peasants who haven't heard an arrow whistle past their ear."

"Have you, Edric?"

"I had a crossbow bolt scrape the cheek of my helmet. Fortunately, I had been wise enough to wear that silly helmet."

"Ah of course..." Dorian chuckled. "I'll get you some dangerous men, Edric. Real killers who have seen battles for years yet lived all the same. As for the price… I will do what I can to keep your pockets full."

"How do you know them?"

"I led them." Dorian smiled, tilting his head. "The current captain was my right hand. Regarding that… I could very well lead them again."

"Your Stormravens." I remarked, stroking my chin.

"Aye, you won't get a better price from anywhere else. So long as they are fed, most of them are happy with a share of loot alone." 

"Where are they, do you know?"

"It may take a few moons for me to bring them west…"

"We don't have that much time." I replied, shaking my head. "Robert is going to march the moment he gathers enough men."

"That's his issue then, is it not?"

"I'll consider this offer at a later date."

"Suit yourself."

'Not my fault Robert is impatient.'

In the end, I decided to save most of my gold for a later date. Surely it would have some use in the future… but that time wasn't now. I didn't have the freedom and connections in King's Landing that I did in Storm's End. I couldn't buy off a plot of land or seek out investments. At least, it wouldn't be as simple as it was in Storm's End.

Right now… all I had on my mind was being ready for war. 

~

After training with Syrio Forel, reuniting with the gang and catching up a little, we all trained together. I sparred Rolan, Arthur and Bryce simultaneously, challenging myself to the extreme. Bryce was inexperienced, certainly, but he had a pretty good physique due to him always working hard at the farm. Arthur and Rolan were both trained by Ser Davis like I was, knights in all but name. They had the weapons, armour, training and I'd even say the skill of one. I'd fought knights before and couldn't tell much of a difference, at the very least.

As usual, I trained until it was late and every part of my body was hurting. It was the one true way of knowing that I worked hard… the pain. I loved it, in a way. Was that strange? I loved the sense of accomplishment, knowing that I had made the most of my day. Knowing that I went that extra mile where others crumbled and called it a day.

…

We were chilling by what was once the tourney field, taking a breather and discussions began to fly around.

"Your cousin, Shireen Baratheon… Gods be good, the absolute horror on the left side of her face. Black and grey stony skin, cracked and flaking." Rolan shivered, shaking his head. "It's terrible."

I nodded. "You saw her?"

"We caught a glance, aye." Arthur nodded. "After Lord Dorian of the Dornish Marches made himself known, talking his way to the main hall."

"Lord?" I raised an eyebrow as I questioned.

Dorian chuckled. "Don't listen to the fools. I simply introduced myself as a man of great importance."

"It worked like magic." Bryce remarked. "They all believed it!"

"How is your lady love, Arya Stark?" Rolan questioned, grinning a little. "I heard she's quite the handful, like her betrothed."

"She's… an interesting person." I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

"... I don't see why the king thought your match was even remotely good. If he was so insistent on a Stark girl, Sansa would've been far better. You've already tried to kiss her." Rolan tilted his head. "Besides that, her sister is ugly. A hard fall from Alysanne."

"..." 

At her mention, I suddenly felt the energy in my body disappear. It made me think of what could have been. What if the ship hadn't been struck? I could've told her how I felt… I could have… I-

It was done.

I clenched my left hand.

'I have neither.'

"... Rolan, do you want me to smack your head?" Arthur took a deep breath. "You are too unrestrained with your words sometimes."

"... Right." Rolan lowered his head. "Sorry, prince."

I stood up, taking a deep breath.

"I think it would be best to rest for the day."

In the end, I found myself on one of the Red Keep's tower, overseeing King's Landing. It felt calming and reminded me of the time where I could have said something. It was on Storm's End's sole, colossal, tower. That was when she confessed to me and I brushed it aside.

Arthur had followed me, walking up to the top of the tower. 

"Rolan is such a fool…"

"He's not at fault." I remarked, looking at the vast city. It was beautiful at night as it was in the day. From afar, you couldn't see the corruption. You could hardly smell all the shit below it. "I am."

"You're too hard on yourself, you know? No one can blame you for grieving the loss of a loved one."

"Yet things are expected of me… no one wants to see a prince with eyes full of sorrow. They want someone inspiring, someone who can carry the weight of the Realm. Someone who never falters." I lowered my head, glancing at my left hand. "When Alysanne died, I fell to my lowest. I did not care about anything… I saw little purpose in living. What kind of heir is that?"

"... Find a purpose. Even if it's as simple as living, it's far better than dying. Death is the end of all things. You're the prince, your life is full of opportunity. My father taught me that the strongest men aren't the ones who stand without falling… it is those who fall to the lowest depths and rise again."

'The goal of existence is to… survive.'

I recalled my own words to Raiden Shogun.

'I'll get you a body, I promise. I'll find a way, even if I have to walk through hell and back. After that… you'll surely find a reason for existing. You might even find it before that.'

How could I throw everything away and forget my own words… my own promises?

"I had thought that I was over it… but my heart still stings at her mention. Am I really that weak?" I frowned, observing the clouds darken. "There are men who have experienced far worse and they kept moving forward. Meanwhile I… I threatened to end it all."

"... You haven't kept those feelings, have you?"

"No… but I lost so much because of them. Because of love, I made myself look like a fool, I squandered your opportunity at the Hand's Tourney… and well, things just ended up worse. I let myself be blinded by it, completely." I shook my head. "Never again, I have to be stronger than that. It was Alysanne who wanted to sever our bond - I should've kept it at that and moved on."

"... Love isn't something you can control, Edric. It just happens." Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "We shouldn't dwell on what should've been. Otherwise, I'd be thinking of that arrow you fired between my legs."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "I didn't leave a mark, did I?"

"No but it bloody well hurt." Arthur chuckled. 

"Yes, you're right. Life is full of opportunity and death is the end of all things." I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to live to my fullest… that's what Alysanne wanted me to do. That's why she walked away in the first place."

"That's the reason?"

"Yeah… her last words to me were written in a letter. She said I'll be loved, my name would be sung across the Realm and that I would protect the people like a true knight would… once I accepted who I was." 

I looked up at the stars, recalling her smile. She only brought joy and warmth to my world.

Now… I felt so cold.

So… alone.

"She said I had become someone she couldn't reach anymore. She wanted me to do my duty… and now with her gone, what do I have but duty? With my father's refusal to have another heir, I'm the future of the Realm whether I like it or not. It will be my duty to hold it, my duty to fight for it and my duty to ensure that it prospers."

"Will you, though?" Arthur asked.

"I have to."

"You won't be doing it alone." Arthur promised, giving me a reassuring smile. "I'll stand by your side through it all."

"You don't have to." I shook my head. "You have your own life to seek out. I have my duty as prince and you have yours as heir to your house. I'm sure you'll one day marry a pretty lady and watch the days go by as you have children, grow fat and simply enjoy your life as lord."

"No, that's not what I ever wanted." Arthur chuckled. "I told you, I'm going to be a knight. My days will be spent warding the Realm of outlaws, protecting those who cannot protect themselves and fighting so that others may enjoy peace."

"A knight, huh? How do you plan to become one?" I tilted my head. 'Of course… it's war.'

"This war with the Lannisters is the perfect opportunity to earn my knighthood. War is where heroes are made, after all." Arthur spoke with great enthusiasm as he clenched his fist. "It is where men prove themselves worthy, where valour shines brightest. It is the ultimate test of any knight!"

"It is also where the most people die and suffer, where the victors do whatever they wish with the vanquished and their families. War is not nearly as glorious as it is grim, Arthur… this one was birthed out of Robert's fury and little more. A wise King would have sought peace." I remarked, sighing. "In the end, we are the ones that must win it. Greenboys by the tens of thousands, knights, lords, we all fight at his demand and pleasure."

"Being the victor is better than being vanquished, however." Arthur remarked. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, being a victor is far better." I nodded, glancing at him. "You want to use this war as a way of making a name for yourself, don't you?"

"Aye, but I don't just wish to be a knight - I want to become a member of the Kingsguard!" Arthur stated, his eyes seemingly lighting up. His voice was full of fiery passion. "I want to restore their lost honour and high prestige. I want to make it the finest set of knights in the Realm… as it had been for so many years before."

'I know he didn't say the Kingsguard.'

"The Kingsguard are down in the dirt. Their best, Ser Jaime, is fighting for the Lannisters while Ser Boros, Meryn and Preston were all executed for fighting in defence of Cersei and her children. The Kingsguard only have three members, and only one of those is truly worthy of the title."

"That's exactly why I want to be a Kingsguard." Arthur countered.

"..."

"Ser Jaime is a low blow, certainly… but the other three? I could beat Boros Blount and mayhaps even Ser Meryn and Preston. They're practically jesters compared to the Kingsguard that the Mad King led." Arthur shrugged. "You wouldn't allow men like that into your Kingsguard, surely."

"I'd want the Kingsguard to be great, yes." I remarked, nodding. "My life would lay in their hands. However, I don't see why you'd give away so much to be a Kingsguard. Don't you know the oath?"

"By heart." Arthur nodded. "Guard the King, keep his secrets, protect his name and honour, follow his orders and the orders of his family, father no children, wed no wife, hold no lands… it is a duty one must fulfil until death. Injury nor age can excuse a Kingsguard, only death. I know the sacrifice needed to be one."

"No. You don't know." I frowned, looking up at the sky. "Have you ever loved a girl?"

"... Well-."

"Do you even find any of the ladies pretty?" I raised an eyebrow. "As I recall, you hardly speak to them."

"If my father were to find a suitable match, I'd honour his wishes. I don't see the point in being close to a woman when I don't plan to go further… seems to be a waste of time, really. Building those emotions with someone I won't be marrying would only burden me and her towards the future."

'Those are my words.'

"It's always you and honour, huh." I remarked, rolling my eyes. "You have freedom. Freedom in its truest sense, something that I lost. Do you even realise how precious it is? You can do whatever the fuck you want and you choose to strive to be a Kingsguard… I don't get it."

"With that freedom, I choose to strive towards being a knight of honour." Arthur smiled, tilting his head. "And if a great, dutiful, king sits the Iron Throne, I am more than willing to give my life for his."

"What will that honour give you?" 

"Purpose." Arthur kept his smile, lowering his head as he bent on one knee. "Allow me to be your sword, Prince Edric."

"Rise back up, you dimwit." I turned away. "You have no idea what it means to love someone, nor what it means to father children. You have yet to see any of the world… and you want to give your life for something so many others can do?"

"I, Arthur Tudburry, hereby swear on my honour to ward the Prince and his family with all my strength-"

"No, you haven't sworn shit." I shook my head. "I didn't ask you to."

"I swear to give my blood for His, until I bleed no more. I will father no children, wed no wife and hold no lands. I swear to protect my Prince's name and honour, keep his secrets, counsel him when requested and otherwise keep silent. I swear to obey his every command and fulfil these vows until I take my last breath. I will ride at his side, shield him from harm, cut down his enemies and serve my realm: now and forever!"

"... It's not a true oath." I denied it. "I didn't ask you to swear it nor do I acknowledge it. Besides that, have you lost your wits? Are you absolutely mad? Do you have any idea how paramount of a decision you've made… so randomly, almost on a whim? It's maddeningly stupid."

"Even if you don't acknowledge it, I've sworn it to myself. I will be your sword and shield moving forward. You won't be alone in your duty."

"I recall you were running away during the melee." I raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain this is what you want, to serve such an awful person? I slaughtered them like cattle."

"I was blinded by the moment, the rush of emotion that came over me. You are not awful… if you had been, I wouldn't have become your friend for so long. They were more than willing to kill you… and you paid them in full. That's how I see it."

"Blinded by the moment… you weren't the only one." I nodded. "However, that's what knights are, in the end. Killers… great killers. You'll see in the war that you're so eager for."

"... The Lannisters started this war when they razed the Riverlands regardless." Arthur replied, shaking his head. "Now they'll have to pay for the atrocities that they've committed."

"For the sake of peace, they have to be crushed… given where this war is heading." I agreed, nodding. "Though, if you really and truly want to be my Kingsguard, you're going to have to start picking up the slack. Otherwise, it'll be me protecting you and not the other way around."

"Oh, I intend to." Arthur smiled, turning away. "I will take inspiration from you and dedicate myself solely to the way of the warrior."

"Good, I'll have a better sparring partner."

'The Kingsguard…'

~

"I'm going to make you regret making that silly 'oath' today."

I promised, taking the whole gang to the main hall the following morning. In truth, I didn't mind the prospect of Arthur being a Kingsguard. Although, equally, I acknowledged that if I accepted his oath, he'd follow it by heart and by doing so relinquish so much that life had to offer.

"What oath?" Rolan raised an eyebrow. 

"Arthur made an iteration of the Kingsguard oath to me." I replied, shaking my head.

"Oh… oooh." Rolan laughed. "Of course, the maidenless greenboy would make such a stupid oath."

"It's an honourable station. The most honourable station a knight could ever hope for." Arthur countered. "I don't see why you find it so stupid."

"Only people who have nothing good going for them swear to the Kingsguard." Rolan remarked, chuckling.

"The greatest knights tend to come from great houses so that's incorrect. Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Ryam Redwyne, Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Gerold Hightower… don't you see? You can't tell me a prince of the Targaryen dynasty didn't have any other prospects."

"You didn't take his oath seriously, right?" Rolan laughed as he turned to look at me.

"No, I disregarded it." I nodded. "Now we're going to find Arthur a nice lady and he'll forget about it."

"Sounds like quite the challenge. Poor Arthur's worse with the ladies than even me." 

"Shut up, I'm not." Arthur denied. "I know how to talk with them unlike you."

"Prove it." Rolan crossed his arms. "However, it can't be just any lady. It has to be a pretty one you like."

"Hmm…"

"You think Arthur even likes girls?" I wondered, stroking my chin.

"Quite the mystery. If only honour was a lady." Dorian stated, chuckling. "He'd be all over her, your Arthur."

"Shut up! I do like girls."

"I don't know…" I shrugged my shoulders. "Doesn't seem like it-"

"You're just trying to make me break my oath." Arthur closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I won't do it."

"I don't think refusing to talk to girls was part of the oath." I stroked my chin. "You said you'd wed no wife and father no children, right? Never said anything about the deed. What if I ordered you to talk to one you like? You can't deny any of my orders, right?"

"I'm beginning to regret my decision…" Arthur frowned, letting out a sigh as he opened his eyes.

"That's what you get for swearing such an oath to Edric, of all people." Dorian laughed. "He is your friend, he doesn't want to take your freedom away."

"He isn't-"

"You swore an oath to follow my every order, Arthur of the House Tudbury, don't you forget it so soon or I'll have you executed for an oathbreaker!" I raised my voice, mimicking Robert Baratheon's loud ass, deep, tone. "You shall speak with a maiden at once! Let your heart sing and dance with passion!"

Rolan laughed. "Edric, you absolute jester… stop bullying the poor man."

"... Fine, I shall do as you command."

…

Looking for a lady Arthur might like was the hard part. In the end, I decided that he'd like a lady-like lady. Courteous, pretty and one who likes songs of knights as much as he did.

Sansa Stark. The perfect match.

"She's a bit on the younger side for you but I'm not asking you to marry her either. Just a chat, you know?"

I led Arthur to Sansa Stark. My friend started to act a little strange… hesitant? A sign of attraction, surely.

"Good morning, my lady Sansa. I hope your day has been going splendidly." I grinned slightly. 'Man like splendidly and all that. If I ever went back to my college and spoke like that, I'd get laughed at all the way back here. Granted, most of them considered furthermore an advanced word.'

"It's always a pleasure to see you, my prince." She smiled and lowered herself, performing a courtesy. Her smile slowly turned to a worried expression. "My day has been well… yet I can't rest the worry I have for the war to come."

"Don't worry about it, my lady." I chuckled. "Let the men do the fighting. Speaking of which, I want to introduce my friend here; Arthur of the House of Tudberry."

I gestured at him like he was the NBA Finals MVP trophy.

"Uh… greetings." Arthur mumbled, lowering himself. "It is an honour to meet you, my lady."

"She's not going to let you kiss her hand, my boy." Rolan couldn't keep in his laughter. "Ser 'I know how to talk to ladies'... yeah right."

"Oh, of course. Forgive me for forgetting my courtesies." Sansa raised her hand, offering it.

Arthur dutifully kissed her hand, rising back up.

"The thing about my friend here is that he's as new to the capital as I am. However, he isn't quick to make friends and tends to find himself lonely. Would you please accompany him for a short while? It would make a world of difference."

Arthur gave me a glance, and I knew he wanted to say something back.

"Well…"

That's when I bailed.

"Leaving your friend to suffer… you are a cruel friend indeed." Dorian laughed.

"I think he liked her." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "At least, I've never seen him mumble like that."

…

"Aha… Edric is merely jesting." Arthur let out an awkward laugh. 'She's a lady of a great house, I have no business talking to her.'

"Arthur of House Tudbury… I think I've heard that name before. You were one of the three who were in the lists but didn't show themselves." Sansa Stark recalled the confusion at the Hand's Tourney. "Was it because of Edric?"

"True… I wished I could have but Edric had a far more pressing matter at that point in time. I couldn't leave him." Arthur sighed. "It would have been the perfect stage to display my skill but, alas, there will be plenty more opportunities."

"It's a shame that you missed the tourney, it was spectacular from beginning to end. Do you know who… made him leave King's Landing in such a rush?"

"She was the maiden to Edric's knight in a song which ended in tragedy." Arthur remarked, shaking his head. "When one died, I believe the other did too. He's… different now. He needs good people by his side more than ever."

"He doesn't seem different… I've only ever seen him smile since he awakened." Sansa countered, raising an eyebrow. "If anything, he is calmer."

"So it seems." Arthur replied, smiling slightly. "Forgive me for wasting your time, my lady. I'll be going now."

Sansa Stark seemed a little befuddled as Arthur rushed to end the conversation.

'This man has no rizz whatsoever.' Edric thought as he observed from a distance, chuckling to himself. 'Lord have mercy.'

"I abhor you, Prince Edric." Arthur rejoined the group, frowning deeply.

"Never again say that you know how to talk to ladies because you're clearly clueless." Rolan chuckled. "Uhhhh… greetings? Hahahahaha!"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Give it your best try, Ser Maidenless." 

"Sounds like you two need to take this to the field." Edric grinned slightly. "Sparring has been a little stale lately."

"I'd gladly face you." 

"Bring it on, then."

"While you two do that,I have practice of my own to attend to." Edric smiled, walking away. "Dorian, follow me."

"I should be getting paid Kingsguard money for my work." Dorian stroked his chin. 

"About that…"

"Do Kingsguard get paid?" He questioned.

"... They get paid in honour." Edric replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Good food and accommodations."

"What a pitiful position."

~

Clunk, clunk, clunk.

"Good, your strikes are quicker and stronger." Syrio Forel complimented Arya Stark, glancing at me. "She might very well be beating you in the future, boy."

"I scarcely doubt that." I chuckled.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Arya Stark looked at me, her grey eyes emanating a fearless glow.

"... It's good to be confident in yourself." I smiled, shrugging my shoulders. "Though, there's a point where it becomes too much."

"Hmph."

They kept sparring while I practised my form, complimenting my 'iron' dance. It was weird, trying to balance both. I felt like I was making both of them worse… but I was stubborn. In a way, Syrio Forel had managed to make me a believer of his teachings.

Swift as a dear… quiet as a shadow… quick as a snake… calm as still water.

I sparred Syrio after some practising, pushing him to try even harder against me. Even still, using his ways, he bested me. His combination of speed, footwork, balance and skill made for a lethal combination.

"You are improving, too."

"Tell him to try and catch a cat." Arya Stark smiled. "I doubt he'd catch even one in a week. Edric is large and clumsy, after all."

"I'm not clumsy-" I denied, shaking my head.

"Ah, yes. Try catching all the cats in the Red Keep as Arya Stark did. It is a great test of speed, sneaking, anticipation and balance."

"I am not going to be running around the Red Keep catching cats." I rolled my eyes. "Mayhaps Arya might not care about her reputation but as the crown prince, I certainly have one to maintain."

"What is better; to have the reputation of 'running around and catching cats' or being a dead man who was too slow to evade his opponent?" Syrio Forel questioned, raising his head. "Hm?"

"Hmph." I snorted. "I might do it."

"You might die too early." Syrio smiled.

I… ended up doing it. That's right, I was convinced into catching cats. 

I tried to find a place where there wasn't anyone to see me… but I failed at that. After the first rounds of chuckling laughter from a group of ladies, I decided that I didn't care anymore and went full predator mode - catching every cat I could. 

Now, I thought it was going to be easy but it really wasn't. Most of the cats seemed to dislike me and ran away. Once, I full leapt in an attempt to catch one but ended up falling solidly onto the ground.

"What are you doing?" Loras looked down, raising an eyebrow.

"... Training." I got up and dusted myself off. "A test of agility, as you can see."

"Catching cats?" Loras chuckled a little. "Sure."

'Even the homosexual is laughing at me… what a woeful day.'

Unlike Arya Stark, my cat crusade gained a lot more traction and became the talk of the court. Even Sansa Stark came to look as I held one of the more troublesome cats in between my arms. It was pretty cute… I'd admit.

"Are you doing the same silly training Arya was doing before?" Sansa questioned, raising an eyebrow as she smiled slightly. Even she wanted to laugh at me.

"Cats are among the most nimble creatures." I replied, smiling back. If I was going to be shamed for it, I'd rather wear it like a bloody coat of armour. Tyrion Lannister said something along the lines of that… I think. "As such, catching one is a test of one's anticipation, patience and speed."

"Mhm…" Sansa chuckled, turning away. "Forgive me, my prince. I should not be looking down on your arduous training."

I frowned slightly as I stroked the cat's head. Amusingly enough, the cat in my arms found her remarks insulting, perhaps even more than I did… and frowned alongside me. 

"When I run circles around every knight in the Realm, I know who'll be looking up."

Since when did I become a believer in Syrio Forel? Well, I had come so far… might as well take it to the extreme.

"I… did not mean to insult you." Sansa stuttered slightly.

"You didn't." I smiled, turning away. "You lit a raging fire in my heart."

I took it personally like Michael Jordan when you even looked at him in the wrong way.

No cat in the Red Keep was safe.

Not a single one.

"What has that dancing master done to my son…" Robert Baratheon frowned, hitting Eddard Stark's arm. "Look at that, he has Edric catching cats! I'd sack that fool immediately."

"... Edric chose to follow his teachings, I never paid Syrio to train Edric." Eddard Stark stroked his chin. "If anything, Your Grace, you asking him to bond with Arya Stark has led to this…"

"... Why are you always right?" Robert laughed, shaking his head. "The Gods are cruel, Ned."

"He is quick for a boy of his size, mayhaps even quicker than the likes of the Hound." Eddard Stark remarked. "I believe this moment of minor shame will be worth the results at the end. Learning under Syrio Forel is a good way for Edric and Arya to build a deeper bond as they will have even more commonground, having participated in the same form of training alongside each other. Edric himself may emerge a better warrior from it as well."

"Or worse…" Robert remarked, shaking his head. "What good is dancing in the field of battle?"

"What of single combat?"

"Only against another water dancer would it be effective. Put your Syrio against the Kingslayer in full armour and the Kingslayer cuts his head off in three swings while only having a few scratches on his armour."

…

"How was it, catching cats?" Arya asked later in the day, finding me in the Red Keep. "I heard you had a hard time."

"... Yeah, I'm never doing that again." I sighed, shaking my head. "I had every bloody lord, lady and even servant laughing at me."

"What does it matter? You care too much about what others think of you. You're improving, in the end."

"I think you care too little." I chuckled, observing the little cat scratches on my body and her rugged appearance. "You're always dirty, wounded and laughed at by others."

Arya Stark bit her lip. "You'd prefer if my sister was your betrothed, wouldn't you? She is a proper lady, unlike me."

I ain't falling for that trap.

"... I'd prefer it if I wasn't betrothed at all." I glanced at my left hand. "There was a girl I loved called Alysanne. I would have been willing to forsaken all my duties to be with her. That's why I caused such an uproar when I heard the news of our arrangement. It was because I wanted to be with her… not because I had anything against you."

"You said you loved her. What happened?"

"Her ship was ripped apart by lightning and burned, right before my eyes. I cried every tear I had… but she never came back to me." I took a deep breath, standing up. "On the bright side, I will never have a reason to dishonour you and forcefully break our arrangement. When I become King, you'll have a choice on whether or not you want to keep to the arrangement, I can promise that much. If you don't want to marry me then, you won't have to."

"..." Arya Stark looked up, making a confused expression. "What about you? What if you don't want to?"

"I have no reason to object." I replied, managing a smile. 'Mortal adoration is nothing but a distraction.'

"That didn't answer my question."

"Did it not? You're a sweet lady of a great house, how could I ask for more? I believe my father made a great match… we have plenty in common."

"I'm not sweet." Arya denied. "Everyone thinks I'm rude."

"You're sweet to me." I pat her head and watched her grey eyes widen slightly as she seemed to remain eerily still. Did she… blush? "I think that matters more than what the rest think."

Then a threatening frown emerged and I knew better than to keep my hand on top of her head.

"What do you think you're doing?"

 She kicked my leg… once, twice… thrice!

I couldn't retain my laughter at her attempts to hurt me.

"Forgive me, my lady. You were too cute… I had to pat your head at least once."

"Hmph!"

After another kick for good measure, she turned and ran away.

'That's the girl Robert wants me to marry…' I thought to myself. 'He never fails to make things more difficult for me, does he?'

Also… where the fuck is Dorian?

~

Dorian had sneaked into the Red Keep's tunnels, his blue eye scanning the dark surroundings and trying to see past the darkness. His steps were as quiet as a mouse's… practically silent. His ears were keenly listening for anything… and then he heard it. Two voices echoing in the distance.

"Robert Baratheon refuses to take another wife, leaving Edric as his sole heir for the future. I can see why he's so fond of him… the boy has a strong spirit and the martial prowess of a historic warrior at a tender age. His physical ability is absurdly impressive and his archery is likely potent enough to change even the tides of a war." 

"So the things that I've heard are true? If an accident did happen, it would leave the boy on the throne with an open rebellion to face. More Kingdoms would join, surely, and war would spread like a plague. That would make the Realm weak and more open to an invasion from the dothraki and golden company."

"The boy in question may not be as much of an obstacle as you may believe. A quarter of his banner is the reversed banner of House Targaryen and he frowns upon kingship. He seems like the type of boy to foolishly believe that he is like a hero from a song and die on the field of battle because of that belief. If that were to happen… the Realm would truly be open, mayhaps too open."

"Would that not be ideal?"

"The belief that there should only be one King would disperse swiftly, I am sure."

"Or it would strengthen the belief that only a dragon is worthy of the crown…"

"Patience, my friend… I believe we must be patient and see how events unfold. There is a possibility that Edric may be willing to give up his crown in favour of a better king. A Targaryen king."

'Targaryen loyalists, eh.' Dorian thought to himself, grinning slightly. 'I see…'

"Once the boy has a taste of power, do you think his pride would allow him to bend to another? People change, boys most of all."

"I suppose… Edric could very well grow into quite the obstacle, one even greater than his father, but he could equally be a great asset considering he has traits of a Targaryen sympathiser. Nevertheless, who is to say the dothraki would even consider turning west?"

"Their queen is a Targaryen. Once her child comes into the world, she can convince her horselord of a husband to claim their homeland. After all… she and her brother grew to believe that the iron throne was their birthright. Would they give it up so easily?"

"Your plan is too fickle, you are grasping at strings."

"... What else do we have, spider? House Baratheon stands strong still and the cracks are only beginning to show now."

Dorian took a deep breath, steadily walking towards the origin of the voices. 'Let's see those faces.'

The tunnel led to a wider entrance, one with a dragonskull to the side. Dorian's eyes immediately turned to the light where two plump men stood beside each other, one holding a torch to light the darkness.

"It's good, let the cracks take their time to appear… then when it breaks, we would have had enough time to prepare." The torchbearer spoke.

"Two weasels plotting against the throne in a tunnel, eh." Dorian placed his hands behind his back, holding a knife in each. "What shall I do?"

His voice startles the two men, who slowly turn to him.

The fattest of the two draws his sword, walking in front of the torchbearer. Despite being obese, his step was strangely graceful. A token of his old profession as a sellsword. "And you are?"

"Dorian dagger-hand." The torchbearer remarked, his eyes widening slightly. "It has been many years."

"The dagger-hand?" The other, Illyrio Mopatis, lowered his sword. "Heh, you've fallen low."

"Careful, now. I wouldn't want to carve you up." Dorian grinned slightly as he glanced at Illyrio. "Whispering in the tunnels like rats, is that what the remnants of House Targaryen's loyalists have become? Two fat men praying for the best to even have a glimpse of a chance at success."

"One would think that you'd favour your blood relatives more." Varys remained at ease.

"Blood relatives or blood enemies? Though, I've never been one to care about politics. Both Houses have fallen into the dirt."

"Quite so… that is why they are no different."

"Regardless, I do support one who has a smidge of the blood of the dragon. His name is Edric Storm… your truest hope and as close to a dragon as you'll get these days." Dorian removed his left hand from his back, throwing a knife in the air and catching it. "He admires the so-called 'dragons' that came before him and holds nothing against the House Targaryen. He is clever, strong-willed, cunning, resourceful, an inconceivably fine archer - making him a threat to any rival in battle. He has a proper sense of duty and justice. Not to mention his other gifts… I must ask, what Targaryen candidate in the present would make a finer ruler? Viserys? Don't make me laugh."

"There is another, raised to be the king from before he could walk." Varys countered, shaking his head. "Aegon. He has trained in arms, much like your Edric, but that was not the end of his education. He reads and writes-"

"Impressive!" Dorian chuckled. "He can read and write!"

"... He speaks several tongues, he has studied history, law and poetry. A septa has instructed him in the mysteries of the Faith since he was old enough to understand them. He has lived with fisherfolk, worked with his hands, swum in rivers and mended nets and learned to wash his own clothes at need. He can fish and cook and bind up a wound, he knows what it is like to be hungry, to be hunted, to be afraid. Your Edric runs from kingship while Aegon knows kingship is his duty, that he must put his people first, and live and rule for them."

Dorian clapped with his knives, making them clash against each other. 

"Impressive, truly. However, to Edric Storm, this 'Aegon' of yours seems a little lacklustre. He has studied history? Edric knows most of it like the back of his hand. Lived among the common folk? Edric owns a village of sorts, built from his own gold and leadership, and actively participates in the community. He knows the butcher, the smith, the traders… he knows and has the support of nearly every bloody person in Storm's End. He knows to spend his wealth wisely, capable of growing it over time. He knows how to hunt, skin and cook his meat. Within a few days, he had the people of King's Landing cheering for him like he was a hero from the songs that came alive. Let's not even talk about skill at arms, Edric is invincible from range. Is there even a debate? I feel like I'm putting up a meaningless argument."

"Aegon is quite a few years older, no less." Illyrio Mopatis acknowledged. "If what you say is true, Edric is a talent that has never come before and may never come again."

"Here's my proposition…" Dorian stepped forward. "When Robert dies…"

…

"Where the hell were you?" I questioned, finding Dorian vibing in the main hall. I found that he stank a bit more than usual. "In the sewer?"

"Something like that." Dorian chuckled, tilting his head. "I got you a sweet deal, my Prince. You will owe me quite the number of gold dragons in the future."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not now. You will see."

"Whatever. I need you to accompany me to the dungeons."

"I serve at your pleasure." Dorian smiled. "Why the dungeons, however?"

"I might get a dog… maybe."

With some convincing, I got into the dungeons of the Red Keep and went down to the second floor where highborn captives were held. Amusingly enough, the second floor had smaller, worse cells with no windows unlike the common prisons with windows and more space. On the second floor, I saw plenty a few Lannisters who silently stared at me… and there he was, further ahead. Half his face was a burned ruin of scars while the other was gaunt with sharp cheekbones. His long black hair was thin and messy, showing more of his burned and bald side. He looked terrifying still.

"Gods be good." Dorian remarked, raising an eyebrow. "He's even uglier up close."

"And who in seven hells are you?" Sandor Clegane looked up, speaking in a raspy tone. 

I ignored Dorian, turning to the Hound. "Do you want to live, Hound?"

"I do not want to die." He replied, tilting his head as he raised his chained hands. "What do you offer?"

"To fight for a proper cause. With war on the horizon, a man like you can certainly impact the battles to come. Become my sword and shield, Sandor Clegane. I will pay you well and you will be able to reclaim your homeland from your brother once the Lannisters are defeated."

"My brother…" Sandor Clegane slowly rose to his feet. "I will be the one to take his head."

"I promise that you will have the opportunity… something the Lannisters would have never offered you."

"So be it. I served under Joffrey for many years, you cannot be much worse than him." Sandor Clegane nodded. "I will be your sword, Edric Storm. Now free me from this stinking prison. I've had more than enough of it."

Storm, huh… can't say I feel offended.

"I don't have the keys… but I'll get you free as soon as I can."

And so, I did. The Hound became one of my men thereafter.

~

As the days passed, so did my leave from King's Landing approach. Robert could only wait for so long.

"Don't do anything stupid in the war." Arya Stark said, almost with the tone of an order. "Don't… die."

"I'll be fine." I smiled a little, tilting my head. "Now you… you're the one that has to be warned against doing something stupid."

"Remember… fear cuts-"

"Deeper than swords. Yes, we had the same teacher." I nodded, keeping my smile. "I'll scare the shit out of the Kingslayer and smack him across the face with my warhammer."

"Didn't he knight you? You looked so happy then." Arya questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"... I don't want to meet him on the field." I admitted, shaking my head. "But if I have to, I will do what I must to win."

"I hope so."

"... Pray for me, okay?" I chuckled, turning away. "May the Warrior grant me his strength!"

"Get going, prince. You will have time to talk to little girls when the war is done." Sandor Clegane followed behind me.

"I'm not all that old myself."

"You look like a man and everyone treats you as if you were… what is the difference?" Sandor Clegane questioned. "You will go to war like a man, fight like a man and kill like one. Otherwise, you will die like a boy."

"Yeah, I suppose. My youth has ended a bit early."

…

While Renly Baratheon headed further south alongside Loras Tyrell, Robert Baratheon took most of the banners of the stormlands which had gathered in King's Landing north, uniting with the lords of the crownlands. Reportedly, Ser Jaime Lannister had ceased his siege of Riverrun and joined with Lord Tywin's army, gathering a host that was over thirty thousand strong and nearing forty thousand. The Lannisters had seemingly accepted Robert Baratheon's open challenge. Although Robert Baratheon's army was slightly smaller, the arriving Northern reinforcements certainly troubled Tywin Lannister.

They had to win now.

The two armies met before the blue fork of the Trident on the seventh day of the twelve moon of 298 AC.

King Robert Baratheon, fueled by rage and fury.

Eddard Stark, his dutiful Hand and a true soldier.

Lord Stannis Baratheon, a formidable commander.

Prince Edric Baratheon 'the Storm', determined to mould the Realm into his ideal vision of peace.

Sandor Clegane, seeking to slay his brother and avenge himself.

Tywin Lannister, full of rage and fury at the possibility of his legacy collapsing before his eyes.

Jaime Lannister, seeking to avenge his beloved sister.

Gregor Clegane, a knight who towered all.

Between them all, nearly seventy thousand men stood to fight for their causes.

The stage was set for the Dance Of Stags and Lions.