Viserys IV & Olenna V (AC 289)

Viserys IV

"Don't call my name in battle, 'tis not wise,

"Do not distract me when you see a new soul in these eyes.

For when the Warrior dons this flesh I wear,

I am no more your friend, I am the spirit of the storm."

Viserys tried to ignore the song that Robert was singing to himself as he lay on his bed. The usurper's voice was low and somehow sad. The bed - little more than a cot - was at the back of the royal tent. Viserys had a similar one near the entrance - indicative that as a squire he was supposed to defend the man.

"Is that you, Viserys?"

With a sigh, the boy stepped forwards. "Yes sir."

Robert levered himself upright. "I've been waiting for you."

"You said I had until dinner."

"Yes." The man rubbed his face. "You're not late. It's more... hmm. Surprisingly hard to say this. I owe you an apology, Viserys."

What!? Viserys put one hand on the tent pole. "Is... that so?"

"Aye." Rising fully his feet, Robert studied his face. "You heard what I told Oberyn, that you were 'younger than I thought his tastes ran'? That was ill said."

"I... did not understand that remark, sir."

The usurper exhaled uncomfortably. "If you haven't started yourself, I'm sure you've seen some of the older boys around the keep bothering the maids."

The boy felt his cheeks heat. "I understand."

"Some men find women less interesting than other men. Others don't seem to have much preference."

What. What? What!? "WHAT?"

Robert put one hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. For the record, I'm entirely in favour of women in that regard. But Prince Oberyn draws no distinction." He made a face. "I'm not sure he draws a line at goats, come to that. But in hindsight, I think you can see how my words earlier could be taken to imply I was granting him license... to... well, I think you get the idea."

"I... Why did you say that then!?"

"It was intended as little more than an off-colour joke. In general I don't care who or what he beds. I didn't consider what was implied more seriously and for that I owe you my apologies. I'm sorry I said it. Men take the words of a king more seriously and I forgot that." He put his other hand on Viserys' other shoulder, looking him in the eye. "You're under my protection and at least until you're older that includes protecting you from that sort of thing."

Viserys smacked his hand aside. "I don't want your protection."

Robert released him. "I never said you wanted it, but right now you need it. As much from my supporters as anyone else."

"I could -" Viserys bit it off. No, you fool, he thought. Don't tell him your intentions.

There was a knowing look in the man's eyes. Then again, how hard would it be to guess at why Oberyn wanted to talk to him.

Robert nodded but said nothing directly. Instead he turned back to his travelling chest and pulled off his shirt. Then he looked bck. "If you're thinking of stabbing me when my back's turned, you might want to think a few steps past it first. Even if you succeed, what then? There's no crown for you if you do that."

Shocked, Viserys looked down and saw that his hand was curled around the sheath of his dagger.

"Get me a clean tunic," Robert ordered. "And then clean yourself up. We need to put on a good show at dinner - it wouldn't do for the king to look worried about his brother's fate," he added in a disgusted voice.

Olenna V

For secure correspondence, Olenna Tyrell found she had to do much of her work in the guarded chambers of the Master of Whispers. She much preferred to get out of those chambers so she could keep her finger on the pulse of gossip around the Red Keep.

Fortunately, now that it was summer there were more days when she could have less sensitive papers brought to her in one of the arbors of the Red Keep's gardens and combine both practises while also enjoying the warmth of the sun.

"Prince Jon sent this for you, Lady Olenna," Renly Baratheon advised, sweeping a bow to her as he entered the arbor.

"Do straighten up, you look like you'll fall over."

Bella Rivers giggled at her uncle. The girl was a delight to keep around - she could be bribed with sweetmeats to carry out little chores or to spy on her foster-mother. Although she suspected Alysanne bribed her the same way to spy on Olenna - she was putting on a little weight.

With a sigh, Renly delivered the slim parcel to the table by Olenna.

"Do open it, young man. Do I seem to have a knife sufficent to the wrapping of the thing? Arryn trusts you with sharp objects, I hope?"

The young prince gave her a mild look. "Well I am awfully clumsy, Lady Tyrell." He drew his beltknife and rolled it between his fingers - a trick he took great pride in, from what Bella had told her - before cutting open one end of the packaging.

"You're a boy, we're used to that." Olenna peeled back the edge and found the wrapping was around paper: a heavy wad of the very cheap paper used by the Pentos Broadsheet and a smaller number of documents in the hand of certain correspondents in the same city. They didn't consider themselves spies so she didn't use the term.

"Hmm. So that's where Ser Arthur went," she mused. "A very handsome young man but perhaps not too bright when it comes to subterfuge."

"Ser Arthur Dayne?" asked Bella.

"Oh yes. It seems he visited his old and dear friend, Varys in Pentos."

"Ser Arthur and Master Varys were friends?"

"No, boy, they weren't. They knew each other though. Hmm. And an unnamed sellsword, possibly associated with the Golden Company. Here, my eyes aren't what they used to be, what do you make of this sketch?"

The two children examined it. "It's Lord Connington," Renly said in surprise. "I saw him at Storm's End once before the war."

"Oh dear me." She smiled thinly. "A spymaster sent into exile (although back to his homeland so that's not very harsh), an enemy of the crown and a knight who was pardoned for his support of the Targaryens. I wonder what they might have been talking about?"

"It's a con-spira-sorry," Bella said solemnly.

"Conspiracy," Renly corrected automatically. "Do you think that's true, Lady Tyrell? The Golden Company fought for the Blackfyres, and except for Viserys and Daenerys, they'd be as close to the succession as anyone."

"There hasn't been a Blackfyre heir since the War of the Ninepenny Kings," Olenna told him. "Although I suppose that just means there's been time for one to grow up. You might have a point though." She set the letter down. "Make yourself useful, girl, and put a paperweight on that."

While Bella moved a polished pebble to keep the letter from flying away in the wind, Olenna opened up the first broadsheet. "Let's see what Varys has to say for himself... Ah, here we go... An Analysis of the Impact of the Greyjoy Rebellion."

"What does he say?"

"He seems to think it'll impact on the trade in the north-west and increase the asking price for ship stores, timbers and hemp for ropes. A short term inconvenience and nothing to worry about except for the possibility of a slight rise in pirate risks over the rest of the year. Well, he always was a clever man."

Renly pulled a face. "Stannis is going to have all the fun."

"I wasn't aware that your brother knew the meaning of the word." She turned the broadsheet over. "Oh, how remarkable. It seems the paymaster of the Golden Company, one Jon Connington, is reported missing with some substantial portion of their warchest. That's the news from Lys, it seems. Oh, and Salladhor Saan is fitting out his ships for a new venture. Tsk. No prizes for guessing why Varys thinks piracy will be on the up turn."

She made a note of that to mention to Jon Arryn at the next Small Council meeting. With so much of the royal navy in the west, the eastern shore might easily be considered vulnerable to the Lysene pirate...