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"Your mother was a dumb whore with a fat arse. Did you know that?"
"Was that comment entirely necessary?" Jon Arryn chided the King.
The King muttered something, looking embarrassed.
"Look at this idiot! One ball and no brains. He can't even put a man's armour on him properly."
"You're too fat for your armour."
"Fat? Fat, is it? Is that how you speak to your King?"
[Both Robert and Ned begin laughing. Lancel also starts to laugh.]
"Oh, it's funny, is it?"
"No, Your Grace."
"No? You don't like the Hand's joke?"
Ned shook his head. Robert really loved pulling people's legs.
"You're torturing the poor boy."
"You heard the Hand. The King's too fat for his armour! Go find the breastplate stretcher, now!"
"They made something like that?" Rhaegar raised a brow,
[Lancel runs out of the tent.]
"The breastplate stretcher?"
"How long before he figures it out?"
"Ah," the Dragon prince shook his head with a small smile. It was a little funny.
"Maybe you should have one invented."
"All right, all right. But you watch me out there. I still know how to point a lance."
"You have no business jousting. Leave that for the young men."
"Why? Because I'm king? Piss on that. I want to hit somebody!"
"And who's hitting you back?" Elia raised a delicate brow in question. "You're the King, who will dare hit you?"
"Anyone with the balls will hit back" Robert grunted, puffing up angrily.
"No, nobody would. They fear for their lives too much to do that Elia shook her head. "Royalty is untouchable. That is what they know. They would rather jump into your lance than hurt you by accident."
"She isn't wrong," Jon Arryn said kindly but sternly. "You're King now, these things are no longer for you. I remember having this talk with you before, Robert."
Robert sighed, rubbing his face with a fat hand. Too fat for his armour, too high up for anyone to touch him. He hated it.
[At the jousting track where there are lots of onlookers, cheering. Ser Gregor bows before the King before he and his horse take off down one lane of the track]
"Where's Arya"
"At her dancing lessons."
"You don't know what her dancing really is do you" It was more of a statement than a question from Robb.
"Probably" Sansa muttered with a shrug.
"The Knight of the Flowers."
[Loras bows to Sansa and then exchanges looks with Renly Baratheon.]
"He squired for me" Renly drawled at the look he got from a few people.
"Are you sure there's not more there?" Oberyn asked snidely.
Renly smiled tightly at him.
[Loras then rides and bows before the King, also taking off down the opposite track.]
"Don't let Ser Gregor hurt him."
"Hey."
"I can't watch."
[Behind Ned and Sansa.]
"100 gold dragons on the Mountain."
"I'll take that bet."
"Now what will I buy with 100 gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish wine? Or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?"
"Is that all he could think of?" Catelyn asked frowning.
"He owns pleasure houses, my Lady. He's probably thinking business" Varys said kindly.
"Yeah, yeah that's just it" Catelyn shook her head.
"Or you could even buy a friend."
"He's going to die."
"Ser Loras rides well."
[A trumpet is heard and both competitors race down their lanes. Loras knocks Ser Gregor off of his mount.]
A few people clapped at the victory, the loudest being Margaery. It was her brother after all.
"Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would have been so nice for you to have a friend."
"And tell me, Lord Renly, when will you be having your friend?"
"Our friend is a sore loser" Tyrion chuckled. He had little to love for his father's giant dog of a bannerman, seeing him lose was fulfilling in a way.
"A shame he walked away from that" Oberyn muttered, gripping the arm of his chair tightly. Beside him, both Elia and Rhaegar stiffened.
"Loras knew his mare was in heat. Quite crafty, really."
"He would never do such a thing!" Sansa gasped, looking scandalized. "There is no honour in that."
"I'm afraid my brother would do that" Margaery shook her head.
"Because he has a mind that he sometimes uses" Olenna rolled her eyes. "Listen, girl, the world isn't all songs and tales. You need to grab every opportunity that presents itself to you."
Sansa stared at the older woman before looking away. How could she defend the man when his own family confirmed it?
[Gregor gets up off of the ground, and shouts for his sword. His squire brings it to him and then Gregor severs his horse's head completely off.]
Everyone gasped in horror, Sansa letting out a little shriek of disbelief and shock.
[The crowd is stunned, Gregor then attacks Loras. Knocking him off of his horse and striking him with his sword.]
Margaery gripped her grandmother's hand tightly.
"If anything happens to my grandson, Imp, The South will march on the Westerlands and burn every last man that stands in our way before we hang your gold-shitting father over a burning pyre of his bannermen's corpses. Am I understood?" Olenna said coldly.
"Yes, ma'am" Tyrion muttered. "She's right descriptive about what she plans to do in revenge" this he whispered to his brother, who snorted.
[Sandor, the Hound, runs down from the stands and fends off his brother.]
Margaery relaxed.
"Stop this madness in the name of your King!"
[Sandor takes a bow and Gregor storms off. Loras walks up to Sandor, raising his hand in victory.]
[Scene changes to Catelyn and her group stopping for rest, presumed on the Kingsroad on their way to Winterfell.]
"Remove his hood."
[The Bard singing.]
"On that eve, the captive Imp down-wards from his horse did limp, nо more would he preen and primp, in garb of red and gold."
"This isn't the Kingsroad. You said we were riding for Winterfell."
"I did... often and loudly."
"Where are you taking him?" Ned whispered to his shrugging wife.
"Very wise. They'll be out in droves, looking for me in the wrong place. Word's probably gotten to my father by now. He'll be offering a handsome reward. Everyone knows a Lannister always pays his debts. Would you be so good as to untie me?"
"And why would I do that?"
"Why not? Am I going to run? The hill tribes would kill me for my boots. Unless a Shadowcat ate me first."
"Shadowcats and hill tribes are the least of your concerns."
"Ah... the Eastern Road. We're going to The Vale."
Jon Arryn frowned. The Eastern road could be dangerous for this small group. The mountain men were not people who showed mercy to anyone with anything valuable. And then there was Lysa herself. He threw Caelyn a look and held back a sigh. He only hoped Lysa would help her sister.
"You're taking me to your sister's to answer for my imagined crimes. Tell me, Lady Stark. When was the last time you saw your sister?
"Five years ago."
"She's changed. She was always a bit touched, but now... you might as well kill me here."
"I am not a murderer, Lannister."
"Neither am I! I had nothing to do with the attempt on your son's life!"
"The dagger found"
"What sort of imbecile arms an assassin with his own blade?"
"Should I gag him?"
"I'm starting to make sense" Tyrion chuckled. But he was thoughtful enough to keep it to himself. As Ned Stark had said, no use rubbing it in.
[A rock slams into one of Catelyn's men, one of the hill tribes begins to attack.]
Ned stiffened. He was no stranger to the Hill Tribes of the Vale. Unlike those from the North, they were more on the vicious side with a more dangerous and marauding nature. He'd fought some during his time at the Vale, and he could only hope his wife got out of this alive.
She just might. These ones seemed like a smaller group.