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Chapter 20

A Lion and a wolf

Jon POV

The feast to welcome the King was in process. The hall was filled with to prim with people. As more ale and wine flowed from one table to another, the louder it became. I never heard someone so loud as the KIng. Even singers got drowned by the booming laughter of him. The only other person I could compare the King to is Greatjon Umber, but Greatjon is more a fighter than the King.

King Robert was a disappointment. Hearing stories about the demon of the Trident and then seeing him in person was very underwhelming. He was fat, with a beard covering his many chins, but he was loud. His voice boomed, and his laughter filled the hall. He was the opposite of my father, who sat next to the King, silent.

It was already the fourth hour of the feast. Out of sight, I sat at the back of the hall with squires and guards. Ghost under the table, between my legs, was chewing bones from a chicken I threw to him. The pup was too small and quiet for others to even notice him. The squires liked to boast a lot. I didn't mind it and was delighted to listen to them. Even if I knew there was not a lot of truth in it.

My brothers and sisters sat with the royal children. I saw how little princess was throwing shy looks at Robb, who had not noticed it even once. While Sansa was listening to the crown prince's stories with eyes of admiration. Even If I heard only tib bids of his stories, I could not find anything admirable in them.

After taking more wine than I could possibly handle, I decided to leave for outside. It wouldn't be appropriate for me to act like a drunken fool in front of royalty. The air was nice, as I couldn't feel the smoke fo the Hall in it. The yard was silent only with few guards on the inner wall and few patrolling and occasionally walking past. The sounds of music spilled from behind me as I lurked in the dark and lonely yard.

"It seems I am not the only one who wants some fresh air," Tyrion Lannisters voice rang from the ledge above the Great Hall door. "Is that a wolf you have with you?"

"A direwolf," I answer. "His name is Ghost. What are you doing up there?"

"The same as you, it seems," Tyrion replies and hops down. "Drank too much. I thought it would be rude to vomit in front of the King. Can I have a closer look at the beast?"

"If you don't value your life, be my guest," I answer and laugh when Tyrion steps back. "Don't worry, with me here, Ghost won't do anything."

"Then it's good that you are here. I am Tyrion Lannister," He gets closer and introduces himself.

"I know, it isn't the first time we met," I respond. "We even talked in Harrenhal."

"And I thought you might have forgotten," He tells me.

"It is hard to forget someone of your stature," I couldn't help but quip at him.

"Yes, and for a bastard, you have a memorable presence too," Tyrion laughs, not offended in the least. "I heard you will be going to the Wall. Is that the truth?"

"Yes, with ser Patrek Mallister leading," I confirm.

"I always wanted to see it. It wouldn't be too much for me to ask to join you on the journey?" He inquires of me.

"I don't see why not. But you should ask ser Patrek first," I inform him.

"Look at us, a bastard and a dwarf talking outside. If someone saw us, they would think that we are scheming something villainous," He jokes.

"They would think that a bastard is annoying a Lannister lord, that all," I grumble.

"Hah, don't be so hard on yourself. All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes," He tells me with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You should never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

"Thank you for your advice. But you should not forget who you are, Tyrion. It doesn't matter if you are a dwarf. You are still Lannister, son of Lord Tywin Lannister. Brother to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms." I respond. "And no other names or insults will change that."

Edmure POV

I was woken up in the middle of the night by knocking at the door. I got up hastily, tired as I was from drinking all evening. My sight was spinning, but I managed to put on pants and a shirt before opening the door. Outside the room, a guard was waiting for me.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"My lord, Lord Stark asked for you to join him," He tells me.

"Then lead the way. I want to get some sleep tonight," I grunt with a lazy tone.

It was Ned's bedroom that the guard led me into. Inside I could see Ned, Cat, and Maester Luwin with concerned faces. Cat's face had fear on it.

"What going on?" I asked, but I knew exactly why I was called here.

"We got a message from Lysa. It brings bad news," Cat answers.

"What did it say?" I ask.

"Jon Arryn was murdered, and she blames Lannisters," Ned responds.

"And? Does she have any proof?" I inquire.

"She is our sister," Cat interjects.

"She is Lady Arryn," I reply to her. "When was the last time you talked with her or exchanged letters. Because the last time I spoke with her, she looked at me as Lady Arryn and not my sister. She didn't write me back no matter how many time I inquired about my nephew. If not uncle Brynden, I would think that the boy is dead."

"You're saying that she is lying?" Cat questions me.

"I think she has no proof and wants us to chase a cat's tail," I respond. "And that cat is a dangerous beast that is better left alone."

"If there is a chance that what Lysa says is true, I can't just forget about it," Ned states.

"I don't believe that our sister would lie to us," Cat adds.

"What are you going to do, Ned?" I ask.

"The King might be in danger. I must go with him to the south," He mutters with an annoyance. "Cat will stay and govern the North in my stead. While I bring Arya, Sansa and Bran with me."

"No," Cat cried.

"Yes, if I must go, I can't let the Lannisters suspect anything," Ned explains.

"If the Lannisters are guilty, you bringing your children to danger," I reply to him. "I know if Sansa doesn't come with you, it would seem suspicious. But there is no need to bring Bran too."

"Ser Edmure is right, my lord. The girls would be enough to divert any suspicion from you. Bran would be only endangered needlessly." Maester Luwin agrees with me.

"Bran is only seven, please, Ned," Cat pleads to him.

"I was eight when I was sent to be fostered at the Eyrie," Ned responds.

"King's Landing isn't Eyrie. The streets are filled with despicable, ruthless, and desperate men. The Red Keep has even more of that kind of men. Bran will stay. I won't let you endanger him." I inform him.

"Fine," Ned agrees at last, and Cat looks relieved.

"I will go with you on a pretext to keep the girls' company while they are away from home," I declare.

"Is it wise?" Ned asks.

"You won't have any friends in the Capital," I respond to him. "And while you are doing the King's bidding, I will investigate of what truly happened to Jon Arryn,"

"Ser Edmure is more knowledgable in the manners of the southern politics. You should listen to his advice, my lord," Maester Luwin adds.

"I won't have a no for an answer, Ned," I state. "It's already late. Better we leave for tonight."

With those words, I turned and left for my chambers.

…

In the morning of the day, I was in the courtyard watching Bran's and Tommen's spar. Tommen was a chubby child the same age as Bran. The would-be king didn't even scratch Bran. Even if Bran wasn't really trained much, he knew what to do. Tommen, on the other side, just swung his wooden sword up and down. Once Tommen was on the ground, he didn't get up again.

"Enough," Ser Rodrik bellows when he sees that Tommen can't get up.

Rodrik gives a hand to the little prince and yanks him on his feet. Afterward, he orders two guards to help the children out of their paddings. Looking up to the covered bridge between the armory and Great Keep, I saw Jon and Arya watching from the window. I smiled and waved at them.

"Prince Joffrey, Robb, would you like to go for a round?" Ser Rodrik asks after looking at them.

"Gladly," Robb instantly agrees.

"This is a game for children, ser Rodrik," Joffrey replies with a bored voice.

"You are children," Theon comments with a burst of laughter.

"Robb might be a child, but I am a Prince," Joffrey responds with a smirk. "I am tired of swinging with play swords."

"Oh, has the sun exhausted the royal prince, or was it the northern wind. Maybe you should take a nap to rest," I couldn't control myself from commenting on his behavior. "We wouldn't want to tire the royal prince to death."

The Stark men laughed, even if quietly. Joffrey looked lost for words while I saw the Hound tensing up. Robb had a smile on him, but he didn't laugh. Theon, on the other side, burst out laughing like it was the funniest joke he heard.

"Not true. I am just bored with this kind of wooden sword and was going to suggest live steel if the Stark isn't afraid," After a few moments, Joffrey tries to mock Robb. "Or you need your uncle's protection."

"Done," Robb snipes back. "You'll be sorry."

"Live steel is too dangerous. I will only permit tourney swords with blunted edges." Master-at-arms stops Robb and tells us.

"This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?" The Hound steps forward and growls at ser Rodrik.

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it." He answers him without a flinch.

"Are you training women here?" the burned man asks.

"I am training knights," Ser Rodrik responds. "They will have steel when they are ready. When they are of age."

"How old are you, boy?" The Hound then turns to Robb and asks with a growling voice.

"Four and ten," Robb answers, looking straight at his eyes.

"I was two and ten when I first killed a man. You can be sure I didn't do it with a blunt sword," The Hound gloats.

"Every child can kill a man. Give a child a sharp knife, and he will put it in any man's gut," I remark before Robb could. "And I thought we were speaking of a sparing not killing the royal prince. What you are suggesting is treason, Clegane. So you will fight with a blunted sword, or you won't fight at all today."

"Come, Tommen," Joffrey commands his little brother. "The hour of play is over. Come find me when you don't need to hide behind a fish, Stark."

"I can only hear a cat meowing. If you can't fight with a blunted sword, you can't fight with a sharp too," I end the conversation and turn to leave. "Samwell, you can spar with Robb instead. At least it won't be a waste of time for you to come here."

The laugher of the Lannister men died out too. I knew I already said enough, so I decided to leave before it became too heated. Of course, I wasn't that lucky as the Hound stepped in front of me. My men clutched their swords. I waved them to relax and looked at the man, muscled like a bull.

"So the cat sends a dog to do their bidding. Well, I don't care anyway," I smirk at the burned man, step around him and leave, not letting him even reply.

After another week, we will be preparing to leave for the South. It will be a long trip, especially with the Queen's Wheelhouse dragging the pace. I wouldn't want the dog to do as he wishes in my lands.