Only a few of those who came to pay their respects were highborn ladies accompanied by nieces or younger sisters. Most were noblewomen bringing their own daughters.
Queen Cersei received wave after wave of them, her lips curved in a perfunctory smile.
No matter how cool or aloof her demeanor, it did nothing to lessen the fervor of the noblewomen. After offering their formal greetings, they would launch into effusive praise—first for the Queen, then for Princess Myrcella, then for their own daughters, and finally for whatever petty gossip or noble chatter they could bring up—as though completely unaware that Cersei's smile was growing brittle.
Green suspected there was an unspoken competition among them: perhaps to see who could remain before the Queen the longest.
At the start of the audience, Green, whose features were elegant and well-formed, noticed that some of the ladies' eyes lingered on him more than once.
But before he had the chance to enjoy the attention, Ser Jaime entered the pavilion and sat opposite him—immediately drawing all eyes to himself.
At that moment, Green became entirely certain: he and Jaime Lannister were utterly incompatible.
Clad in crimson, golden-haired and broad-shouldered, Ser Jaime's charm spanned every generation. Everyone knew the Kingsguard were forbidden to marry, yet that hardly dampened the women's admiration for him.
Seeing how Jaime was received, Queen Cersei's smile toward the ladies grew a touch more genuine.
Green lowered his gaze and stopped watching the scene, letting his thoughts drift instead to the Reach—and the royal party's upcoming visit to Highgarden after the hunt.
Westerlands – Casterly Rock
Carved into the face of a massive cliff along the western coast, Casterly Rock towered over the Sunset Sea. Seat of House Lannister and capital of the Westerlands, it was a fortress that seemed hewn by gods from stone.
It had never fallen to siege or storm. Richest, largest, and best defended, Casterly Rock stood as the strongest castle in all of Westeros.
Kevan Lannister was now fifty-three, with golden hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His frame had thickened over the years—broad shoulders, thick waist, slightly stout.
At just sixteen, Kevan had fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and earned his knighthood on the battlefield—bestowed by none other than the famed Red Lion, Lord Roger Reyne.
Now he stood once again before his elder brother, ever respectful.
"Lord Tywin, this is the latest report from King's Landing."
Kevan had long acknowledged Tywin's brilliance. As his most loyal deputy, he had served steadfastly for years and was well regarded for his reliability.
Tywin believed that some battles were best fought with ink and ravens.
Without lifting his gaze from the page or pausing his quill, he asked, "Any new developments, Kevan?"
"King's Landing is abuzz with concern over Lord Jon Arryn's health," Kevan reported. "Someone was caught eavesdropping outside his solar. The incident left him furious, and now he needs time to recover."
Tywin's quill paused briefly, then resumed. "And Lancel?"
"It went smoothly. He's already been appointed squire to King Robert."
Kevan kept his voice even, but inwardly he felt a quiet pride. Tywin himself had once served as a squire at court—under King Aegon V. Now his son would follow the same path.
"And Jaime? Still diligent?"
"Jaime never neglects his sword work."
"And Cersei? Our clever girl?"
There was a faint shift in Tywin's tone at her name.
"She's quite satisfied with her new steward—Green Clegane. She was especially pleased with how he handled the matter in the Queen's District. She's already made him Chief Steward."
Tywin set his quill aside and folded the parchment before him.
"My clever daughter knows how to strike, but not how to yield. She's never had a gift for subtlety. Has she finally found a servant she deems useful?"
He sealed the letter with wax and pressed the Lannister lion into it.
Kevan added, "Tyrion speaks well of Green too. Ever since meeting him, he's taken a stronger interest in affairs of state."
At the mention of Tyrion, Tywin's brow twitched slightly.
"Jaime and Lancel both seem to think highly of him."
Tywin looked up from the sealed message, pale green eyes flecked with gold. "Have we let a fox into the lion's den?"
"If I may, my lord… I believe he's more like a hunting beast who's chosen to prowl among lions."
Since his hairline had receded, Tywin had taken to shaving his head bald. His sideburns remained thick and golden, like a lion's mane carved from stone.
Now fifty-five, he was still tall and commanding—his presence undiminished.
He examined the parchment again. "I trust your judgment, Kevan."
"What do you wish to do?"
"Let it be. My children fancy themselves wise, but they're still blind to real cunning. Let them learn what it means to deal with a clever servant."
"So we continue to watch."
"With Lord Jon's health failing, should we act in the capital?"
"Not yet. Keep observing."
Royal Hunt – Camp Grounds
On the second day of the royal hunt, Green led a patrol around the camp, ever dutiful.
His ears twitched.
"Don't be fooled by his looks. My mother asked around already."
"Yeah, mine too. He's terrifying."
"No wonder Her Grace put him in charge of security!"
Green raised a hand, signaling for silence. The patrol halted.
"What's the Queen thinking? Why put someone like that in charge of our safety?"
"Yeah, explain it!"
"Mhm! Think about it—wildlings grow up with beasts, right? They don't hear like we do. They can catch sounds from far off."
"Like a hound?"
"Shh! He's still a baron, you know. I heard Her Grace holds him in high regard."
"Hmph. It's not like he can hear us. You're such a coward."
"Well, your uncle's the Lord of Maidenpool. No wonder you're not afraid of a baron."
Lord of Maidenpool? House Mooton? Green rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
"Um… so… does he really only eat raw meat?"
"Seven hells! Are you still on that?"
"I… I mean… he doesn't look like he eats raw meat…"
"Wildlings are sly. What makes you think you could see through one?"
"Sigh… My mother said it too. If one of them fancies you, they'll just sling you over their shoulder and carry you off to their cave!"
"You see? I wasn't lying! If it weren't for me, you'd be some wildling's cave-wife by now—eating raw meat and sleeping on furs."
"Th-thank you…"
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