Thirty - One

Rickard watched as Brandon, his eldest, most trusted son, helped his new bride into her carriage. Next, he helped his sister, who rejected his hand and clambered in after her.

"Are you sure you don't want to take our ships? You'd only need one, two at the most," Hoster had asked him the day before. But Rickard refused. He had already spent far too long at Riverrun. Besides, he had been planning this trip ever since Lyanna and Robert's betrothal was made official. They'd go through High Hear, Acron Hall, Tumbleton, Grassy Vale and then make it, hopefully to Storms End safely. All the while, passing the Kingswood, which was inches close to his beloved daughter and now son. From then, he would bid farewell to Lyanna and return home. That was if, the King had decided to marry Rhaegar quickly. Something he hoped for and yet dreaded.

"Shall I go to the front or the back?" Brandon asked, taking his leather gloves from the squire's outstretched arms.

Rickard looked at him baffled. They had been preparing to leave for Storms End, Rickard was just getting over his second son's stupidity and his first son's ignorance when they had received word from Kingslanding. Shella Whent had been burnt at the stake, in front of the entire souths residing courtiers. He had been astonished, everyone except for Brandon was taking the news badly.

Merida, as expected, had locked herself in her room and had been left to her own devices. Catelyn and Lyanna tried to console the girl, but she would have none of it. Blaming Hoster for her mother's death. Hoster blamed himself as well, saying his goodbyes and calling his daughter into his study, of which she left with a mysterious silver box.

"Have you gone mad, boy?" Rickard barked. The whole courtyard stopped for a moment, looked at the encounter and slowly moved back to help the family get ready to leave.

Brandon frowned at his father. "No?"

"Do you have any idea where you have sent your brother Brandon?"

"Kingslanding," Brandon scoffed back as if to ask his father, obviously.

Rickard clicked his tongue and took the reigns of the horse that was being handed to him. He muttered to himself. "Kingslanding," he whispered. "Shella Whent has just burnt for asking for a castle back. What do you think Ned going unannounced, uninvited. You don't think he'll feel provoked?"

"He's supposed to feel provoked," Brandon snapped back, looking up at his father. "It was either Ned or me."

I've given him too much power. Rickard thought to himself. "Well, it should've been you." He retorted, watching as drawbridge was lowered and Stark guards began to march out of the castle. Their last piece of heaven before making the long journey to Storm's End and then back home to Winterfell. Rickard had thought many times whether he should send them home, there was no real reason for them being there. But by their rejection of the idea, he had assumed the meals and warmth they received under him at present was better than what they received at home.

Brandon looked at his father offended. "But Winterfell-,"

"Winterfell what?"

"Winterfell would need me. You would need me. Cat-,"

He was cut off, Rickard let out a cold laugh. "Need you?"

Brandon ignored the remark, opting to believe that his father was just angry with him. "If Arianne can survive Kingslanding," he said rolling his eyes, "Ned can."

"So what was the point of sending him? To make your position of power known? Are you competition to the King now? Sending your brother there as a companion. He'll be as useful as Oberyn Martell."

"Exactly. He'll be a companion. Maybe he'll learn to be free there. Find a wife even," Brandon smiled, patting his father's leg.

Rickard kicked his hand away. "Your wife's aunt has just been burnt, have some compassion." He said, watching as a squire, unknown to both of them walked up to them.

"What is it?" Brandon asked. They weren't due to leave until Robert had been saddled and seated on his horse. It was his home they were going to.

"Lord Baelish wishes to have a word with you, my lords," the squire muttered, looking anywhere but at them.

Brandon found the eyes of the man who he hated with a passion. "Lord Baelish has to send ravens now?" He asked. The squire glanced at him. "We're in the middle of a conversation." He pointed out.

"Thank you, Harry, that'll be all," Petyr smiled, pushing the squire to move along.

"What do you want? Another beating?" Brandon said, quiet enough that his now distracted father was looking elsewhere.

Petyr let out a fake laugh. "Always the charmer. No, I came to tell you that Stannis Baratheon has resigned as Hand. The jobs open to whoever wants it."

"The King chooses the Hand," Rickard bluntly reinserting himself into the conversation. "Not the common folk."

Petyr nodded his head, "that is true. But just a word of warning not to jump into the puddle too early. It is said that Stannis endured some ... testing situations while acting as Hand."

Brandon, allowing his more curious side to take over, fed into Petyr's words. "What'd you mean," he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Apparently," Petry smiled, looking up to Rickard. "The King would have servants mutilated for every thought he gave. Said his ideas were too liberal you see."

Rickards horse grew restless, stomping its foot onto the ground and shaking its head about. Rickard looked at Brandon and shook his head. "And that is where you sent your brother, behind my back. Feel proud of yourself, Lord Stark." And with that he was crossing the courtyard swiftly, leaving his son to handle Petyr and his bruised ego.

...

"You're awfully quiet," Catelyn whispered to Lyanna. They had been listening in on Brandon and Lord Stark's conversation or rather bickering and she didn't want to miss a word from it.

Lyanna, who could care less for the conversation, closed the door to the carriage. "I don't want to marry Robert." She confessed.

Catelyn looked at her and raised a brow. "Since when does that matter?"

Lyanna looked back at the girl, shocked she would say such a thing. "Since now!" She exclaimed, making sure her voice was not too loud but provided Catelyn with enough expression to surprise her.

"Alright," Catelyn said holding her hands out in surrender. "May I ask why?"

Lyanna sighed and began to toy with her thumbs. "I-I don't want to marry a drunk or a man who holds whores in higher esteem than he holds me," she responded. Catelyn pushed for more. "He hasn't made an effort to even get to know much, rather he just compliments me and my different lady manners compared to others ladies. I fear I will be a project for him. To show others that I can be tamed. Or you can have the best of both worlds. A loyal wife and a hundred whores to please you."

Catelyn pursed her lips. "What are you going to do about it? I mean, sure you have a few more years until the vows are said, but your fathers have decided upon it." She said, mentioning the carriage.

"And thank the gods my father changed his mind. It was much too hasty, but still..."Lyanna groaned and put her head in her hands. "I just want to run away. Why couldn't the Prince have chosen me to kidnap?" She whined, making light of her sister's situation.

Catelyn couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Look, I'm sure you'll grow to like him. Brandon and I have our differences but we still try to make it work."

Before Catelyn could continue with her lecture however the carriage door was swung open and revealed Catelyn's father, who had fresh blood on his hands. "Merida. She's tried to-," he didn't know if he should continue. "She tried to-," he couldn't. And didn't need to. Catelyn pushed him out of the way to see what the commotion was about. First, she'd check on Merida, then she'd kill Lysa, for promising to take care of her and not even managing to make it an hour.

Kingslanding - The Red Keep

Arianne had been sick for a week straight. She did not know how people had continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened. She turned to her left on the large bed that she had called home for a time and saw the empty space, where Nymella and Penelope had been staying with her. She had grown oddly close with them, though truthfully they were the only two apart from Rhaegar and Oberyn who had made an effort to spend time with her. The Queen was preoccupied with her duties, as she had told her so through messengers and gifts of sweets and the King, well she did not want his company so she did not dwell on it.

There was a knock on the door, the knock she had grown used to. Jonothor. He knocked twice, and after no reply opened the door. Oberyn stood in behind him, hands behind his back. He thanked Jonothor and walked into the room, sitting down on the chair nearest to Arianne's bed. She pulled the covers all the way up to her nose and looked at him, questioning his motives.

"How many naked women do you think I have seen?" Oberyn asked her bluntly.

"Thirty?" Arianne guessed, unsure of what number he wanted her to say.

"Close," Oberyn smiled. "A thousand and two." He seemed proud of it.

"Congratulations. Would you like a prize for that?" Arianne scowled at him, how could he be so insensitive.

Oberyn sighed sheepishly and brought his hands in front of him, revealing a small silk golden box. "I want to go home," Oberyn told her as he handed her the box. 

"You and me both," she replied, taking the box from his hands and opening it. It was a ring, with a dragon wrapping around the golden middle section, what she guessed to be the egg. She examined it, saw a small tool to open the egg and gasped in delight as it opened. The middle was empty, save for the decorative flowers engraved in it. "What will I carry in it?" Arianne asked him.

Oberyn shrugged. "Whatever you want. A lock of hair?" He suggested and they both let out foolish laughs at the idea.

"How very romantic."

He took the ring from the finger she had tested it on and put it back in its box. "For safe keeping."

Arianne looked at him suspiciously. "Why are you here?" She asked.

He squinted back at her. "To see my friend. Have they forbidden than?"

Arianne looked at her hands, "sorry," she muttered.

Oberyn stood from his chair and began to walk around her room. "For what. I understand." There was a short silence. "Have you told Rhaegar? Julian is a trusted companion of his." Indicating to the brief conversation he had with her the day it happened. She had sworn him away after telling him about Julian and he accidentally let a laugh slip out.

She shook her head. "He was drunk. Smelt like he'd been dipped in wine from head to toe."

"Olenna Tyrell will do that to you," he said, pressing his palm on various parts of the room. "Anyway, the important part of why I'm here other than to shower you in gifts and visit you and so on. Your brother's here. The City Watch brought him to the Great Hall a few hours ago and he's been waiting there since."

She flew from her bed, tangled in her sheets, and straight to the white marble floors. Picking herself up from the embarrassing situation she quickly began dashing around her room, looking for where Nymella and Penelope had put her clothes. She wasn't complaining about their constant help, but she did enjoy the independence growing up at Winterfell had given her. Oberyn let out a laugh and pointed to the large cupboard near her bed that was tucked away in a corner. "Why didn't anybody tell me!?" Arianne rambled, throwing the cupboard doors open and looking at the small collection of dresses she had built. Penelope had told her it had to be bigger, that the more the merrier, but Arianne knew she would just keep getting the same design and fashion of dresses in different colours, so why waste material, gold, and silver.

"Because your brute doesn't let anyone in here without playing a lovely game of a thousand questions," he said.

"Good," Arianne responded, picking out a white dress that Rhaella had gifted to her. "Jonothor keeps me safe."

Oberyn tutted and left the small golden box on her vanity and sat on her bed with arms behind him and head thrown back. "Hurry up, he's been asking for you for a while and I do not think my friends can keep him company for long."

Arianne scoffed and laughed at his ignorance. "Brandon could keep a conversation with a sheep if he felt like it."

"Brandon could do no such thing," the soft voice of Ned Stark came from across the door. Jonothor was obviously doing his job very well.

Arianne smiled at Oberyn excitedly and opened the door to her room. He hadn't changed the slightest. "Ned," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh, you don't know what a familiar face means to me."

Ned smiled and hugged her back, looking up at Jonothor in a hidden fear. "I could say the same thing."

Arianne let go of him and pulled him into her room, he looked around in awe. "Even Lord Arryn didn't have Robert and I living in this luxury."

She grimaced and shook her head. "I can't take credit for any of it."

Ned scoffed. "Compared to Winterfell, this is like-,"

"Kingslanding," Oberyn cut in, laughing at the young boy.

Ned looked over at the Dornish Prince, still unsure of his feelings on him and nodded his head. Looking around he stared in amazement at the view the balcony gave, and the sheer size of the room. "Do you throw feasts in here or something?" He asked his sister, turning back to her.

Arianne laughed and clutched onto his arm. "Aye, I'm sure we can try."

"Gods it smells rotten though," he pointed out, looking at the flowers and burning candles around her room.

"Shit, sweat, blood, piss, whores...just think of anything dirty and that's the smell," Oberyn said, putting on a face of disgust. He would never grow used to the smell either.

Ned ignored Oberyn again, this time not even acknowledging his statement. "So I guess this is where I'll stay?" He joked, pointing to the lounge that was placed in the centre of the room.

"Don't be silly, I'm sure Rhaegar could arrange something-,"

Ned cut her off, surprised at her informality. "First names already?" He teased.

Arianne gave him a side eye. "Don't play daft. Am I to call him your grace every moment of the day?" She asked him. Arianne didn't give him enough time to respond. "How is everyone? How was the wedding? How's Merida?" She asked, giving a pointed look at Oberyn who had his lips in a thin line and was looking anywhere but at her. "How is father?" She asked last.

"Good, good, good, good," Ned replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Aye, I forgot you had the emotional capacity of a fly," Arianne said, lightly punching his shoulder.

Ned punched her back, harder. "Aye, I forgot you had the punch of a girl." Arianne gasped at him, not allowing the paint o get to her and jumping on top of him in a dash. She began pulling at his hair and clawing at his neck. "I will hoy you over this balcony if you keep doing that."

"Hey! Rude," Arianne pouted.

Oberyn stood from the bed and sighed, watching them bicker, fearing he would grow jealous of their playful fight he excused himself from the room silently and left. The door closing stopped them bickering, once it would've been their father.

"You're scared of him," Arianne pointed out. She had noticed as soon as Ned walked into the room he had feared the Red Viper.

Ned scoffed and sat down on the sofa. "No." He bluntly said.

Arianne rolled her eyes. "Oberyn Nymeros Martell. The man who coats his blades in poison moves in combat like a viper, the man who beds men and women," she smiled whispering behind his ear.

"Stop talking like that," Ned said, jumping up from his seat and glaring at his older sister.

"He's smart as well, it's true. I've done my research," she said shrugging her shoulders.

Ned looked at his younger sister, who had walked to her bed and slid back into it. This is what Brandon was so worried about? He thought to himself, sighing and laying on the sofa for the first comfortable sleep he would get for two weeks. He had ridden so fast that the poor horse he'd stolen from the Tully's was probably dead in the Keeps stables by now. Closing his eyes, he wondered what life in Kingslanding would be like. What would he do until his sister could leave? She seemed to be educated on many of those residing her, maybe she was social with them? Perhaps she didn't need him. Perhaps he could've gone home.

I can't believe I listened to Brandon bloody Stark.

...