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A Song of Weiss and Fire

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    • Weiss​

    Riverrun was beautiful. The seat of House Tully was impressive, not to the sheer scale of Casterly Rock, but was still beautiful and a solid keep to defend, with the Tumblestone to the north, and the Red Fork to its south. A natural defence that was needed, considering how every war that happened in Westeros ended with the Riverlands ravaged, burned and raped. It was probably why the Riverlands never truly were able to unite, they simply never got off the ground before they were set upon or caught in the crossfire. Such savagery always left a sour, disgusting taste in Weiss' mouth whenever her history lessons covered the topic.


    "Should we set up camp, my Lady?" Podrick asked as he rode beside Weiss, atop Cedric's mare. It was a valid question, being if she had to guess, close to evening, if she had to guess, and it would take time to find a camping location and unpack everything. "O-Or shall we seek guest rights with the T-Tully's?"


    Another valid question, anyone may claim the guest right throughout their travels from the highest Lord Paramount to the lowliest peasant. Yet, the Tully's were Lord Paramount of the Trident, one of the most powerful Houses in all Seven Kingdoms. Lord Hoster Tully's daughters were married to Lord Eddard Stark, the Lord of the North, and Lord Jon Arryn, who had been the Hand before his untimely death. Lord Hoster was a shrewd man, binding two other kingdoms in a powerful alliance, creating a political bloc that would likely rule the Seven Kingdoms for generations.


    "Set up camp, Pod." Weiss said, her sapphire eyes scanning the red walls of Riverrun. If they wished for the guest right, they'd likely be slowed down by a few days, so as to not appear rude to such a powerful House. She was already starting to feel homesick, yet, whether for Vale of Remnant, or Lannisport, Weiss did not know. Likely Lannisport, though thoughts of Remnant filled her dreams ever since she had been reunited with Blake.


    "As you command, my Lady." Pod said respectfully. He was a shy and awkward boy, though he was proving to be a quick learner with his letters and manners. Ignoring any mental comparisons between him and Jaune she could make, Pod was growing into a bumbling young man. Admittedly, one rife with potential if he could just get enough confidence and training to take advantage of it.


    Weiss gave him a smile and a nod as he rode off to inform the rest of their group of their upcoming plans. She slowed her pace, loosely holding onto the reins of the beautiful mare that Weiss rode. Her gaze drifted back towards Riverrun, admiring the architecture. She didn't know much about House Tully, aside from their basic history and famous features.


    The Tully's, like the Tyrell's, owed their positions as Lord Paramount to the Targaryen's, but that didn't stop them from siding against the Crown during Robert's Rebellion. Politicians were all the same, from Tywin Lannister to Hoster Tully, everyone did what they could to advance their House's position. And while the Lannisters were famed for their blonde hair and green eyes, the Tully's had their red coloring with blue eyes.


    Weiss pressed her lips together rightly. The Starks were known for having gray eyes, which were close enough to silver, that the idea that Ruby had also been reborn even more plausible. The marriage of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully could bring about a red head with near-silver eyes, possibly from Remnant. Yes, that would line up, especially given the Starks symbol of a Direwolf was reflected in Ruby's own fixation on Beowolves back in Remnant. Her dreams had been plagued by the scythe-wielder, along with her brute of a sister. They had to be here, somewhere.


    "A copper for your thoughts, my Lady?" Cedric's voice interrupted Weiss' musings. She looked up at her sworn sword, his face couched in an expression of concern towards her.


    "Another day, perhaps." Weiss said softly in response to him. "I wish to return home as soon as possible." Her eyes tore themselves away from the home of the Tullys. She looked to the West, towards where she knew Lannisport was located. Where her family lived, and was waiting for her.


    Cedric frowned and gave her a single nod. Apparently he'd wished to stop at Riverrun for something. "As you command, Lady Lannister."









    Blake​

    Despite Uncle Robert's to depart for Winterfell as soon as possible, that would simply not be possible. Even if he didn't do much of the actual ruling, protocols and preparations had to be made in light of his departure. Lords, knights, men-at-arms, servants and supplies had to be made ready to travel, and the realm did not stop functioning once he left. With Jon Arryn dead, and without a Hand to rule the realm in Uncle Robert's place, the Small Council would have to take a more prominent position until a new Lord Hand was chosen.


    Uncle Renly, Ser Barristan, Littlefinger, Varys, and Father, all men and the eunuch who hated each other with a passion, would now be in charge of the Kingdoms. And with Father planning to retreat to Dragonstone once Uncle Robert was well into his travels, Ser Barristan would be the only honorable member on the Small Council. Yet what would the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard be able to do, especially one who had served Aerys for so long despite his honorable nature? Littlefinger controlled the Crown's treasury as well as its debts, and Uncle Renly was supposed to enforce the law, both who would much rather do anything else than perform their duties. And that wasn't even mentioning Varys the Spider, yet another one of the holdovers from the Mad King's reign, yet too useful to simply discard. And despite it all, for all the issues he brought, the Spider at least was competent and willing to do his job.


    "Hardbread and salted meats have been prepared for the ships, my Lord." Ser Andrew Estermont, Father's cousin and Blake's head escort, said as the two followed the Lord of Dragonstone through the halls of their quarters. He was Father's former squire, knighted by him during Uncle Robert's Rebellion, and a veteran of the Greyjoy Rebellion and the campaign in the Stepstones to burn out piracy. He was a hard man, with a scar across his handsome face and a pointed, brown, well groomed beard. "Supplies for Lady Blake's journey have also been prepared."


    A stewards job, yet the people that could be trusted normally were back on Dragonstone. Father and Blake, did not trust easily, especially those in King's Landing, the center of corruption. Yet, they had to trust someone back here to represent their interests.


    "Good." Father grumbled. He was still unhappy about her decision to head north, to protect Uncle Robert. Blake could understand that, considering the death of Jon Arryn, yet his death also has given her an opportunity. Now that Blake knew that she was no longer alone, she kept forming theories about the whereabouts of Ruby and Yang.


    Ruby being born a Stark made sense, in terms of hair and eye color and general theming. There was already the precedent set by Weiss and herself, even if it wasn't a one for one, given Weiss was a Lannisport Lannister and not the main branch. Plus, it made sense, the Starks weren't well known south of the Neck, and it was rumored they had a daughter with short hair and acting very unladylike. If that wasn't Ruby, Blake would swear off fish for a month.


    Yang, well, the name brought to mind rumors of Yi ti, or maybe even Essos. Of course, it's possible she could be a Dragonseed somewhere in Westeros, but she would've made an appearance in that case, wouldn't she? Dragonstone was home to the largest group of Dragonseeds in Westeros, and she hadn't heard or seen Yang during her ventures into her home. And with her lilac eyes, there was always the chance that Yang was reborn in one of the Free Cities, such as Lys, whose people were known for their beauty and Valyrian features.


    "Our green ships shall be placed in reserve." Father continued. "We'll find a place for them to gain experience before we return to King's Landing." An impromptu expedition to the Stepstones was his excuse for taking the entire Royal Fleet, only leaving behind three smaller galleys to 'defend' the capital. It was a fair excuse, he'd done it in the past, possibly as preparation for just such an event, and even then, there was nobody around with a fleet and a willingness to attack King's Landing, so it wasn't that bad an imposition.


    Their captains were chosen for their loyalty and ability to not raise any commotion, which would be needed should Blake have to escape King's Landing if the Lannister's discover their plans. Yet, at the same time, would they be useful if the need arose?


    Father slowed to a stop before turning to give Uncle Andrew and Blake a look. "I trust that you will keep my daughter safe, Ser Andrew."


    Uncle Andrew formed an easygoing smile. "I believe that it is Lady Blake who will be the one who keeps us safe, Coz." Heh, he had come across her training with Brienne once, when Blake had gotten lazy in keeping her secret. She made sure to learn from that, even if he approved of her actions. Uncle Andrew was very loyal, having starved alongside Father during the Siege of Storm's End. Her secret would be safe with him.


    "Ser Richard and Ser Godry are fine knights." Blake added with a slight smirk. "And Uncle Andrew is one of your best commanders, Father."


    Her armor had also been packed, and hidden in her baggage, covered by dresses of black and gold. Even if her aura was superior to any other form of protection found in this world, wearing the light chains and leather armor felt like a second skin. It also provided some level of concealment for her Aura, no sense showing off her hidden talent, as it were. She wasn't Weiss after all. Full plate was expensive, and even if she could afford it, such armor wasn't Blake's style.


    "Ser Criston Cole was one of the realm's finest knights during the Dance." Father retorted. He always did enjoy using history in his arguments, taking full advantage of her love of reading to reach through to her. "That didn't stop him from being butchered like a deer."


    "We're stags, Father." Blake's smirk never disappeared, merely sharpened. "As sharp as a lion's claws are, and as pointy as a rose's thorn, our antlers can kill just the same." She gave Uncle Andrew's turtle decorated leather jerkin a brief glance, which he didn't seem to notice. Not his fault his house's sigil was a turtle, and a sea turtle at that, not even something like the Alligator snapping turtles Menagerie had in some pools.


    "You're starting to sound like your Mother." Father continued walking, his voice deep and dark. To an outside, that would have sounded like an insult, being compared to the Mad Lady of Dragonstone. However, Blake knew better, her mother was a smart woman with her own positive qualities, despite what most of Westeros thought.


    Her smirk turned into a soft smile as she followed her Father with Ser Andrew by her side. Like the Hightowers words said, they would 'Light the Way'.


    For a better and secure future, they would do anything. After all, soon Team RWBY will be reunited, and nothing would be able to stop them.


    Nothing.


    A/N

    Krieg: Well this took longer than we expected. Life kept piling things on which caused a bit of writer's block.


    Night_Stalker: It doesn't help that my state is being hit now by a second Cat IV hurricane, so it seems an awful lot like the Storm God has it out for us.


    For SV/AO3 versions- There's a story I collaborate on with a friend online that could use some more love, for any RWBY fans-

    https://archiveofourown.org/works/57262177/chapters/145655950

    Feel free to check it out and give a comment or a kudos if you're interested.


    Krieg: And enjoy this sneak peek of upcoming art if you haven't seen it already!

     
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    • Weiss​

    After several more days of traveling on slowly improving dirt roads, the Golden Tooth was finally in sight, Weiss had finally reached the Westerlands border. The Golden Tooth, Alysanne's home, was one of the main entrances into the hilly Westerlands, and heavily guarded, even in times of peace. Even when there wasn't war, robber knights and bandits still roamed the Seven Kingdoms. Weiss was just thankfully they didn't run into any of them, likely thanks to the Lannister banner they flew and her mounted armored men-at-arms. Even the most fool hardy or desperate bandit would be reluctant to pick a fight with a column of armored men. There was little Weiss could do to stop the smile that was growing on her face. Her travels had resulted in some delays, so there was a chance that Alysanne had managed to beat her to the Westerlands. It would be nice to see her old friend, before they returned to Lannisport. At the very least, not having to see the same faces day after day would be a nice bonus.


    "Almost home." Weiss whispered under her breath as they drew closer to the Lefford stronghold, her eyes peering through the opening of her wheelhouse. They were about a day away, maybe less if they ran the horses ragged, yet that would make them tired after such a journey. No, her horses had done well, and would be able to feast on the finest meals back in Lannisport. She was almost home, there was no sense inviting any risks or embarrassments by rushing too fast.


    Once they were a few hours away from the castle, Weiss would have to change into more presentable clothing, which meant removing her dirty riding leathers in favor of a dress. Westerosi men still weren't used to women wearing trousers, sadly. That was a shame, even if Weiss loved wearing any and all kinds of dresses, wearing pants while horse riding was a different kind of exhilarating.


    She allowed the small curtains to droop back into place, covering the window, as she leaned back against her well cushioned seat. Soon Weiss would be back home, in the comforts of the Gold Keep and Lannisport. She would be able to see Mother, Father, and dear Rosamund, who was likely expecting gifts, which Weiss had prepared for her and the rest of her family. A small smile formed on the Lannister Heiress' face.


    Weiss missed her sister. If it wasn't for Father's duties as Lord of Lannisport, they likely would've been able to join Weiss on her journey, though she wouldn't have been able to take her little detour through the Riverlands. Ah well, you win some, you lose some.


    "Now if only Blake was here." Weiss whispered under her breath as she leaned her head back to stare at the roof of the wheelhouse blankly. Perhaps the former Belladonna could pay Lannisport a visit in the future? After all, the Royal Fleet could use a base on the other side of the continent, and Lannisport was newly expanded and had empty berths to spare as a result. Father had spent the past few years rebuilding the Lannister Fleet to its former glory. And Weiss could always return to King's Landing. At least they were able to send each other ravens, now that they both knew that the other was alive.


    She closed her eyes shut, her mind pushing out the noises of her guards and servants talking just outside her wheelhouse. Even the sound of the horses and the clanking wagons started to fade as Weiss drifted off to sleep.


    "Caw~." A raven's crow went unnoticed.









    Blake​

    Uncle Robert departed a fortnight after he announced his intentions to head North to Winterfell to the Royal Court. He brought Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Boros Blount with him, leaving behind Ser Barristan to help the Small Council rule in his absence, not that he ever did any actual ruling. The realm would be just fine, Blake mused. Father and the late Lord Arryn had been the ones who kept the Seven Kingdoms in order ever since the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion, with the occasional assistance from one of the others. She kept a neutral face as Blake stared out of the window of her wheelhouse, which Father had forced her to bring along despite his hatred of them. And true to his word, Blake was escorted by more men than was necessary, at least in her mind.


    Uncle Andrew served as her main escort, being her kin and one of Father's closest confidants. Following that, Ser Richard Horpe commanded a score of Father's knights and squires, while Ser Godry Farring was in charge of the two-score plus mounted men-at-arms that formed the majority of her security. They drew too much attention, in Blake's opinion, if anyone bothered to ask her, but Father was as hard-headed as she was, and refused to back down. Blake earned that with how she forced him to allow her to head North with Uncle Robert.


    Lazing on the couch in the gaudy, yet still rather plain wheelhouse, Blake was bored out of her mind. She kicked one of her legs in the air limply, staring at the small, cloth curtains that allowed a slight breeze to flow in. Uncle Andrew was likely riding with Uncle Robert near the head of the column, leaving her with either Ser Richard or Ser Godry, neither of whom she was particularly close to. Ser Waymar, or one of the Seaworth boy's would've been better travel companions, yet Father had need of them.


    Blake sighed as she placed an arm over her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep and allow time to pass by. "Not even a ball of yarn to entertain myself with." Oh Brothers, she was such a stereotype, wasn't she? Loved fish, hated dogs, and now was looking for a ball of yarn to occupy herself with. Yang or Weiss must never learn of this, or she'd never hear the end of it.


    Blake preferred traveling over water, on one of Father's dromonds ideally, but she'd settle for almost any ship that wasn't a small fishing boat. At least she could fish for snacks over the side, instead of sitting around and waiting for time to pass as they traveled through the Crownlands.


    "Is this how Weiss felt?" Blake sighed to herself. She knew she should've packed more books than she actually did, even if she did miss having many of her favorites on her Scroll. With the rate they were traveling, it'd be several weeks before they reached Moat Cailin. Every lord and minor knight that they came across wanted so desperately to host their great and fat King.


    This was starting to feel like a drag.








    Weiss​

    A small camp had been built outside the walls of the Golden Tooth by the time Weiss and her party arrived. Banners with the sigil of House Lannister along with the Royal Baratheon stag decorated many of the tents. Weiss narrowed her eyes as they approached the outskirts of the camp, riding on her mare and dressed in a beautiful blue gown with traces of white and silver.


    Cedric and Pod were just beside her, the two carrying the banners of House Lannister and Weiss' personal sigil. Behind them were the rest of Weiss' wagons, servants and guards. A group of riders in the colors of House Lefford and Lannister slowly approached to greet them. They must've spotted Weiss' party earlier in the day when the sun was still high in the sky..


    A plump old man rode at the head of the small greeting party, wearing a doublet of leather that had been dyed blue. His eyes widened slowly when he caught sight of Weiss' snow-white hair. It was clear she wasn't expected, or he was afraid of being caught in the crossfire between her and someone else.


    "Lady Weiss! It's such a pleasure to see you once more." He exclaimed, one of his thick hands holding onto the reins of his stallion. She pretended to not notice his hands twitching a little as she looked at him.


    "The pleasure is mine, Ser Briden." Weiss gave the Lefford sworn sword a tight and calculated smile. He was more of a steward than a knight, with soft hands and preferring to hold a fork rather than any blade. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be a threat. Just one from a different angle.


    "We had heard word that you had decided to travel through the Riverlands." Ser Briden continued, his companions behind him remaining silent. He turned to the knight in Lannister colors beside him for the briefest of seconds who tilted his head to the right. "Unfortunately, we do not have space for your knights and servants within the Golden Tooth, my Lady. And we have no room for your tents. You see, her Grace, Queen Cersei is a guest of House Leffords."


    "Very well." Weiss said politely. It was hardly his fault he had a higher ranked guest present. If she'd chosen to come straight away, maybe she could've skipped this entire mess. "May you please inform Lady Lefford of my arrival."


    "Lady Lefford is entertaining the Royal Family, alongside her Father, Lord Lefford." Ser Briden's rosey cheeks turned darker as he spoke. He gave her a forced smile. Ser Briden should've known better than to try and turn her away. The Queen must've put him up to this, judging by the Lefford knight being surrounded by the Queen's men. Subtle, the Queen was not.


    "Lady Alysanne is one of my dearest friends, Ser Briden. It would be rude if I didn't present myself." Weiss kept an easy smile that she didn't mean, and what she suspected Ser Briden knew as well. "I am still one of Lord Tywin's kin, and yet I don't see bread and salt amongst any of you. Has the law of guest right changed since I visited King's Landing?"


    She hated having to throw around that vicious man's name to get what she wanted, but it was still effective. If nothing else, his reputation was fearsome enough to cow even the Queen's men, in this case. Weiss turned to Ser Cedric with a slight flourish, holding onto the reins of her mare with one hand.


    "Inform the rest that we'll camp further up the road, Ser Cedric." Weiss said with a slight smirk on her face. "I shall need to send a raven to my Father and Lord Tywin with all due haste."


    The only influence her Father had in the Westerlands was due to the Lannister name, and the wealth Lannisport had acquired. Lord Tywin on the other hand, being favored by him meant that Weiss could afford to be a bit more blunt than necessary, whenever he wasn't around at least. And besides, given Ser Briden was seemingly disrespecting a Lannister, well, she suspected he might approve of the threat.


    "As you command, Lady Lannister." Cedric obeyed with a lazy smile, never allowing the Lannister banner to droop, not even an inch, as he moved his horse to turn to inform the rest of Weiss' party. She swore she could see some of the eyes of her party droop in sadness, knowing they were so close to a proper castle to sleep in, and yet were denied.


    "However!" Ser Briden spoke up, his voice high and filled with anxiety. The Lannister knight beside Ser Briden gave him a sharp glare. "Your quarters have already been set aside by Lady Lefford, Lady Lannister, and I'm sure we can find some space for your household to set up their tents."


    Better to risk the Queen's wrath rather than the Lord of the Westerlands, Weiss supposed. The worse the Queen could do, well, would be nothing in comparison to what Lord Tywin would do. She wouldn't be surprised if he was one of the few who could override her. "You are very kind, Ser Briden."


    Ser Briden rubbed his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief that had appeared as if by magic. "Nonsense, my Lady. We are all loyal servants of the Crown, to have such a noble lady such as yourself spend another night under the stars would be a disservice to Westerland hospitality. You there, bring out some bread and salt for Lady Weiss and her household." He ordered a young page that was on foot, who immediately ran off to the sea of tents.


    The Lannister knight, likely some croney that served the Queen, gave Ser Briden another sharp glare. Such arrogance from someone who was merely a sworn sword, not even being one of her distant kin. Did he look down on her? Just because she was from a cadet branch-


    Weiss bit the inside of her cheek and steadied herself internally. Having to go through puberty a second time was taking a toll on her mentally, which combined with finally reuniting with Blake meant that she could be unbalanced at times. Add in the latent sexism from being in Westeros, and one got a volatile compound.


    Stupid hormones. She hated the way they made her act, haughty and rude, the way Weiss had been before she met Ruby, Blake and Yang. It wasn't helping, she was having to resort to what she termed her 'Heiress Face' more and more, which was causing a mental backslide. Weiss would have to practice more self-control, but that was for another day.


    The Page, a young Broom, came running back with a platter of hard bread and a slight dusting of salt, likely the first he saw at a random tent. He offered it to Weiss when he came a foot away, lifting the platter as high as he could above his head. Someone was keen to avoid being named in her conversation with Lord Tywin.


    She grabbed the smallest piece and pressed it against the salt before placing it in her mouth. Weiss chewed on it slowly, staring down Ser Briden and the Queen's Lackey until she swallowed and bowed her head slightly. Alysanne was going to love this story, especially given how close it was to her home."I will be sure to give the Leffords my thanks for their hospitality."


    But for now, she had a Queen to piss off.


    A/N

    Annnd we're back. The next chapter will be delayed due to the hurricane heading Night's direction.


    And we have reached our 50th chapter! I'm surprised by all the progress that was made in less than a year.
     
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    • Alysanne Lefford​

    The Queen and her entourage had been at the Golden Tooth for several days, much to Alysanne's annoyance. This meant she had to play a good hostess for the Royal Party, which meant being around the royal pain in the arse, Queen Cersei Baratheon all the time. The Queen was as beautiful as she was arrogant, which was considerable considering Lady Weiss was one of Alysanne's closest friends. Every Lannister had an air of arrogance, and her dear friend was no different. Yet, at the same time, Lady Weiss showed a more gentle side at times. The Queen, on the other hand, did not. Cersei Lannister sat comfortable on the long chair that had been prepared, looking as beautiful as any Queen out of song. Prince Joffrey sat closest to his Mother, followed by Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella.


    Alysanne sat across from them, wearing one of her finest dresses that was suited to entertaining guests. It still paled in comparison to the clothing worn by the Royal Family, but that wasn't saying much, almost anyone would look like a smallfolk in comparison compared to her royal highness. Queen Cersei wore a deep red, form fitting dress that left her shoulders exposed, yet covered her throat. Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen wore similar doublets, decorated with the Lannister Lion and Baratheon stags, with a gold trim decorating the red silk. Princess Myrcella wore a modest red gown, decorated with golden lace that seemed to shine like the yellow curls that sat upon her head. All four looked beautiful, their skin soft and smooth, and their eyes, the most vibrant green Alysanne had ever seen.


    Yet, only Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella were as sweet as they looked. Alysanne silently lifted an expensive cup of Myrish tea to her lips, one of the many gifts she had received from Lady Weiss. Prince Joffrey had a similar cup in front of him, from the same set Alysanne had been gifted. Yet that remained mostly untouched, unlike hers.


    "This tastes like dirty water, Lady Alysanne." Prince Joffrey's voice sounded more like a snake than a lion. He had been polite the first few days after their arrival, charming even, yet that did little to stop the cracks in his personality from forming. His gorgeous, green eyes did not agree with any smile he faked. "You dare serve this to your future King?!"


    "Myrish Tea is more expensive than many wines, my Prince." Alysanne bowed her head as the Queen turned to give her a look. The Lefford refused to meet their eyes, she was not going to risk offending her future sovereign if she could help it. "My deepest apologies if it's not to your taste, my Prince. Should I call the servants to bring a pitcher of Arbor Red?"


    "That will not be necessary." Queen Cersei said with the smallest of smiles. Like her son, it didn't reach her eyes, even if she was a bit better at concealing it, unlike her son. Gods, that little shit was going to be her king one day? Hopefully this would be the first and last time she had to endure him. The Golden Tooth was far from King's Landing, much to Alysanne's relief. The Queen held a goblet of Lannisport wine, which was rising in popularity in the Westerlands. "We shall be departing on the morrow, and I'm sure my son would prefer to have Arbor Red once he is of age." In short, the Queen did not want the Arbor Red diluted, as was custom when someone of Prince Joffrey's age wished for a drink.


    "As you say, your Grace." Alysanne bowed her head deeply once more. Prince Tommen looked particularly uncomfortable, leaning towards his sister, who mirrored his expressions. It was a pity they were related to such unpleasant individuals. If Prince Tommen was in line for the throne, she'd be happy to serve. Instead, she was stuck with King Joffrey in her future, odds are.


    Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Preston Greenfield guarded the door, dressed in their full armor and the white cloaks of the Kingsguard. A sharp knock suddenly came from the wooden door, with Ser Mandon's hand immediately reaching for his longsword. Ser Greenfield turned to look at the door, his armored bulk clinking as he did so.


    "My Lady Lefford, a visitor, has arrived and requested an audience." Ser Briden's voice was muffled by the door. The Queen immediately shot her a glare, but did not say a word. Even if she was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the Golden Tooth was ruled by House Lefford, not Lannister or Baratheon. Technically she could grant an audience at this moment, but at the same time, it would risk offending the Queen. And departing on the morrow or not, she did not need to make unnecessary enemies of the Royal family.


    "I will be able to grant an audience on the morrow, Ser Briden." Alysanne answered neutrally, raising her voice just enough to be heard. Even as the future Lady of the Golden Tooth, she could not afford to offend the Queen and her future king. Especially not for someone who, for all she knows, was from some minor house. Even if she would love for an excuse to leave the Queen and her brood.


    "I'm afraid, she refuses to leave until she has been granted an audience." Ser Briden continued, his voice nervous and filled with anxiety.


    She? Alysanne's heart skipped a beat as she bit the inside of her cheek softly. Who could that be? Who would be so brazen to make such a demand? It wasn't the Queen, and the fact that Ser Briden hadn't given a name to this stranger was telling.


    Prince Joffrey's nostrils widened in anger with several deep breaths. He was about to give an order, when Alysanne went ahead of them and continued speaking. She needed more information before she could make a decision. The last thing she needed was to be caught in the middle between, say, the Queen and the daughter of a Lord Paramount.


    "May you please identify my guest?" Alysanne raised her voice. Strange, why hadn't any of her servants come to inform her that another guest had arrived? Had the Queen suborned them, or were they just avoiding this part of the castle? The Queen took a long drawl from her goblet of Lannisport wine.


    "Lady Weiss Lannister of Lannisport, my Lady."


    Alysanne's heart immediately started to pound, and her hands started to feel sweaty. Lady Weiss had finally returned! She had taken longer than Alysanne would have expected to arrive, yet it was better late than never. And such a perfect distraction, no less.


    "Please allow her in, Ser Briden. I am sure that Her Grace and her children would love to see their kin." Alysanne said with a relieved smile. She ignored the Queen's glare as Prince Joffrey rolled his eyes. His two younger siblings remained silent, snacking on the lemon cakes and apple cakes that had been baked just for their visit.


    The two knights of the Kingsguard gave each other a glance for the briefest of seconds before turning to look upon their Queen. Queen Cersei dismissed them with a wave as Ser Preston opened the door, revealing a girl with Valyrian hair standing there.


    Weiss was still as beautiful as she was several weeks past when they left King's Landing. She wore a blue and white dress that flowed like the wind, and had her snow-white hair tied into what she called a 'pony-tail', due to its similarities with a horse's tail. Her sapphire blue eyes seemed to shine, despite their primary source of light coming from the candles and torches that lit the room.


    She took several steps into the room and bowed deeply at the waist with a curtsy. The Queen stared at her for a moment, a flicker of what she thought was envy in those green eyes appearing, before it was gone.


    "Pardon me for the intrusion, your Grace, Lady Lefford." Weiss slowly straightened her back, keeping a smile on her pale face. Yet, unlike the Queen or Joffrey's, her smile reached her pale blue eyes. "I took a minor detour through the Riverlands, and longed to stay in a familiar place."


    "You're the White Witch from the tourney." Prince Joffrey spoke before his Mother could. He stared at her with wide eyes. Alysanne returned her dear friend's smile, but remained silent to avoid further insulting the Royal Family… Weiss could arguably get away with it, being their kin and Lord Tywin's favorite, but Alysanne could not, alas. Of course, once they left, she could laugh with Weiss at their foolishness.


    "I am no witch, my Prince." Weiss answered simply. "A witch's magic comes from the unnatural, my power comes from the Seven Above Who Are One." A polite answer and a way to dodge any accusations. And given how rapidly she had trotted it out, likely a practiced answer.


    "I forgive you for your intrusion, Lady Weiss, yet I forbid any more talk of your sorcery." Queen Cersei narrowed her eyes in response to Weiss's words. Someone was a bit offended, or something else, perhaps?


    "I speak of no sorcery, your Grace." Weiss formed the sign of the Seven-Pointed Star over her chest with her hands. "Only of the blessings that the Seven gift to House Lannister." Yet another practiced answer. Weiss really had gone above and beyond to prepare for this.


    "The Lannisters of Lannisport are little more than merchants." Queen Cersei's smile was hidden by her goblet of wine. She turned to Alysanne, clearly thinking Alysanne would support her claims. Before she had met Weiss, that would've been true. Now, however, was another story. "Wouldn't you agree, Lady Lefford?"


    Alysanne bowed her head to avoid the Queen's gaze while buying herself a moment to think. "During our lessons, Septa Loria said that the Lannisters of Casterly Rock and of Lannisport often intermarried, your Grace, and that both descended from Lann the Clever. Lord Dramen's Grandmother was a Lannister of the Rock."


    An answer that didn't directly state her stance, and would, hopefully, not offend either the Queen or Lady Weiss. A delicate balancing act, but one she could perform. She had to. For her sake and Weiss's.


    "Lady Alysanne diligently enjoys reading the history of all of the Houses from the Westerlands, your Grace." Weiss affirmed with a nod. She did not approach the gathering, since the Queen still hadn't given her permission.


    "A Lady's duty." Queen Cersei said, her voice sounding more like a hiss. She adjusted her smile and leaned back in her seat casually. "It is a wonder to see you again, Lady Weiss, in a dress at that, and not in that dirty armor when you decided to try and be a man."


    A strange insult, since Weiss wore a beautiful gown to every feast, including the one where she was held as the guest of honor for winning the melee. Was the Queen jealous, perhaps?


    Weiss giggled, politely covering her mouth with one of her small hands. "You are a gracious Queen, your Grace. I would never try to be a man, I am far too beautiful to be considered one. Hence, my battle armor was designed to look like a dress, with Lord Tywin's approval."


    "You are an arrogant one." The Queen declared. Prince Joffrey somehow managed to stay quiet, merely watching the verbal spar. It was probably the wisest move the Prince had made since he had darkened her step.


    "Thank you, your Grace." Weiss' smile never disappeared from her lovely face. "It is the Lannister way, is it not, your Grace. House Lannister is the greatest House in all Seven Kingdoms, aside from House Baratheon of course."


    The Queen's eyes looked like that of a lion's as she remained silent, allowing Lady Weiss to continue speaking. "Prince Joffrey, with his Lannister and Baratheon blood will be a great king." Alysanne and Weiss both knew that wouldn't be true. Only a fool would assume Prince Joffrey, in his current state, would be a good king. A mediocre king's reign would be beyond his abilities, odds are.


    Prince Joffrey smirked as he crossed his legs and grabbed a lemon cake, one that Princess Myrcella was reaching for. "You know your place well, Lady Weiss." Apparently, he had grown bored with the verbal sparring match, between his mother and his cuz.


    He motioned towards the empty seat beside Alysanne, across from Prince Tommen. "Please, come and join us. Lady Lefford has been an excellent host."


    The Queen swung her head to shoot him a glare. Yet, the future King, for once, did not quail at the fear of his mother's ire, it seemed. "Joff-"


    "You honor me, my Prince." Weiss bowed with a curtsy once more and moved to sit beside Alysanne. The Lefford girl did her best to keep her cheeks from heating up. Being in such proximity to Weiss again was the real miracle here, not Weiss's Blessings.


    "Tell me more about the Seven, my Lady." Prince Joffrey's emerald eyes met Weiss' sapphires. To her, though, it was no contest which was more impressive a spectacle. "As the future king, I must know more about these blessings "


    Another smile danced upon Weiss' lips. "As you command, my Prince." Queen Cersei shot the two a glare, but remained silent. She sipped her wine to disguise her displeasure, and Alysanne breathed a silent sigh of relief.


    Alysanne gave her friend a glance out of the corner of her eyes. Her heart never stopped pounding, even as Weiss preached about the Seven Who Are One.


    Those past few weeks felt like an eternity.


    A/N

    This chapter definitely came out faster than I expected considering our situations. And as usual, Night and I hope that it was entertaining and fun. This arc shall soon be over, which I'm sure most of you are excited for. After all,


    Winter is Coming.
     
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    • Weiss​


    Weiss spoke of the Seven for hours, using what she remembered from her lessons with Septa Loria, and her own personal studies. Even if she wasn't a believer, using the Seven as an excuse to use her powers in public meant that Weiss had to keep up the appearance of being a pious girl. That meant she had to be knowledgeable regarding all things that were related to the Faith, just in case someone decided to question the origins of Weiss' Aura and Semblance. And that meant hour after hour pouring over old 'holy' books, and talking with Septas and Septons on theology. Annoying, but far from a complete waste of time. At the very least, it would reinforce her position, and to be fair, some of the stories were interesting, in part.


    Eventually, they'd parted ways from the Royal party, and drifted upstairs, to Alysanne's quarters. The Lefford heiress had shyly invited her up to see her room, which Weiss had accepted. Alysanne was still deep asleep as Weiss untangled herself from the Lefford girl's limbs, which had drifted around her in a tight embrace. The Lannisport Heiress had hoped to get a good night's rest in her own quarters that had been set aside whenever she decided to visit the Golden Tooth, yet her dear old friend wished to catch up and hear stories about Weiss' detour. There wasn't much of any note, but she did her best to describe Riverrun and the rest of the Riverlands without it being too boring. Weiss wasn't sure she was successful, judging by how fast the two had fallen asleep.


    It felt…. Nice hanging out with Alysanne, just the two of them, in her room, at night, in what passed for pajamas, talking about her experiences. Was this a sleepover? Weiss wasn't sure, considering that she was used to sharing beds with the Lefford girl and Alis Peckledon since they were children. Every day had been a sleepover, until Weiss departed for King's Landing not too long ago.


    Weiss ran her hands through her snow-white hair with a soft sigh. Either way, she missed sleeping in an actual bed. Sure, her wheelhouse bed was stuffed with downy feathers and covered in nice quilts, but it didn't hold a candle to the bed in her quarters, nor Alysanne's.


    "Weiss?" Alysanne murmured softly, her voice low and groggy, as she shifted in her spot. Her green eyes slowly flickered open as she sat up, with her reddish-brown hair appearing more like a wild mane. It would take Alysanne's servants at least half an hour to tame that monster, but they likely had experience with it. Alis, who was likely still in Lannisport assisting her Mother, would have a short reprieve before they returned.


    "Yes, my dearest Alys?" Weiss said lightly, resting her head upon her knees, which were covered by her ankle length nightgown that was dyed blue. It was a gift from her mother, and she liked it simply for not being red and gold like most of her wardrobe in some form or another. The day the Lefford girl moved permanently to rule the Golden Tooth would be a sad one, she was truly one of Weiss' closest friends.


    Robert Brax would also accompany her, likely after their marriage, which would take place in the next year or so. As rich and powerful as House Brax was, the dowry for the Heiress to the Golden Tooth was expensive, especially as Alysanne was Lord Lefford's only child. And yet, people still clamored for her hand, at least, before House Brax had won them over. Perhaps one day, their own children would marry, bringing their families together.


    That nearly made Weiss laugh, if she had been alone. She had no plans to get married, and with the death of three previous suitors, her new reputation would ensure that Father, Mother, and even Lord Tywin would hesitate to arrange a match. Even the most callous man wouldn't take any offer made, simply because none of them had lasted long enough to even kiss her hand.


    "Has Her Grace departed yet?" Her voice was filled with sleep, and Alysanne's eyes still hadn't seemed to focus yet. She was likely half asleep still. Weiss smiled at her, reminded of when she woke up before Ruby and the rest. A rare experience, given Ruby rose with the dawn more often than not, but Blake and Yang could've slept through an Apathy attack.


    "In a few hours perhaps?" Weiss scooted to her side, allowing her shoulder to touch Alysanne. "I doubt her Grace would let her children depart for the Riverlands without a Seventy-Seven course meal to break their fast." Of course, at the same time, the Queen might not have had a choice, her husband commanded her, so she had to meet up with him wherever he commanded.


    Alysanne leaned against her, resting her head and the wild mane on Weiss' shoulder with a soft giggle. "I fear her children will starve if they have to eat suckling pig and blackened bread once more."


    Based on their conversation the night before, Alysanne had already grown tired of having to host the Royal Family, who were on their way to meet up with King Robert on his journey North. Queen Cersei was a Lannister of the Rock, and if her personality was anything like Lord Tywin's, then Weiss understood. Too bad for her, she was an even bigger idiot than Cardin had been, not being able to hide her disgust as Weiss gave a sermon about the Seven. Queen Cersei was used to having people bow at her feet and follow her every word as if she was a god, yet all Weiss saw was a spoiled child grown into an adult. She was no better than the Atlesian upper-class, which Weiss was well-prepared to deal with.


    "I will pray to the Seven that Lord Tully feeds them fish the color of gold." Weiss giggled in return. Even if they were her kin, Queen Cersei and Prince Joffrey were some of the most annoying people she had the pleasure of meeting. And that was saying quite a lot, given she'd had to endure Atlasian high society in her past life.


    Such a shame, considering how sweet Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella were. The Princess in particular paid close attention to each and every from Weiss' sermon. Apparently she'd fostered all her attention on her precious Prince Joffrey, which meant her other children hadn't turned out too bad. They made a promise to visit the Grand Sept of Baelor together should Weiss ever return to King's Landing, much to the Queen's displeasure.


    "I shall pray that they enjoy a fish bone." Alysanne yawned, keeping that statement low enough that only Weiss was able to catch it, just in case someone was listening in. The Golden Tooth was Alysanne's home, but its halls were currently filled with the Queen's men and servants. Plus, she couldn't truly be certain of her servant's loyalties, given the Queen was here. All it would take is one gossipy servant in the wrong place, and it would not be pleasant.


    "Shhh." Weiss pressed her index finger against her own lips. "To a passing ear, that may sound treasonous, Lady of the Golden Hills." Weiss' voice was little more than a whisper. "After all, we are all loyal supporters of the Crown."


    Even if the Crown Prince was a little shit.









    Breaking their fast had been a rather dull affair, if Weiss was being honest. Lord Lefford sat at the head of the table, as his right as Lord of the Golden Tooth, flanked by Alysanne and Queen Cersei in the positions of honor. The meal was slow paced, course after course of meat and fish, served with white bread. It had to be a grand meal, as was the custom when a guest was to depart, especially since this was royalty departing, no less. Weiss sat beside Alysanne, across from Prince Joffrey, who was beside his Mother. He took advantage of this to ask more theological questions, which Weiss would prefer not to speak about, as she sliced into a piece of blackened sausage.


    "How many times must I pray to the Warrior to gain such strength?" Prince Joffrey asked politely as he drank a light cider. Apparently, Weiss sermon the night before made him interested in religion. She was curious if he'd actually keep it up once he left, or if he was just making small talk.


    "Not just the Warrior, your Grace, but also the Father, the Mother, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger, for they are one with seven faces." Weiss answered, doing her best to keep her left eye from twitching. The fact she was having to explain some basics of the religion he should know, was a bit concerning, to say the least.


    "Even the Stranger?" Prince Joffrey questioned as he ignored the gaze Queen Cersei gave him. Lord Lefford and Alysanne remained silent, only eating their meal and commenting about the skills of their cooks. It was likely they had learned from past meals, or at least were trying to avoid being drawn into a theological debate over their meal.


    "Especially the Stranger." Weiss sliced the blackened sausage, the liquid fat spilling its intestine casing, and spreading the meat onto a piece of fresh bread. "To bring about the death of our enemies." And left unsaid was that in the end, everyone met the Stranger sooner or later, regardless of social status.


    "Such morbid talk is making me lose my appetite." Queen Cersei added as Prince Joffrey nodded along. Weiss wasn't sure if he truly understood, or if he was feigning interest. "Don't you agree, Lord Leo?" She turned to Alysanne's Father, who looked as if he'd rather not step into this mess.


    He nodded slowly. "Death is natural and common, yet it has no place at this table as we break our fast." Weiss was neutral regarding Alysanne's Father. Even if he had known her since they had been children, they weren't exactly close or friends. After all, Weiss was simply the daughter of the Lord of Lannisport, who just happened to be friends with his own daughter. Still, she could be polite, and he was her host, so he was worthy of some respect.


    "My apologies, Lord Lefford." Weiss bowed her head slightly and, in the most lady-like way she could manage, stuffed the bread covered in sausage meat into her mouth. Alysanne's leg briefly touched Weiss', but the white haired girl ignored the comfort, for now. Her sapphire eyes drifted towards the Queen.


    Did she notice Weiss' slight against her?


    Judging by the emerald glare that was disguised with a smirk, she had. Weiss simply smiled as she chewed and swallowed before taking another bite. Ah well, she had to step up her game in that case. One point alone did not win a match, after all.


    "I wish to continue this talk." Prince Joffrey ignored the two adults. "Will you join us on our journey North?" The Queen whipped her head around with a tight jaw, while Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen's eyes seemed to light up. She felt wrong knowing she would have to crush those hopes, alas.


    Weiss hummed to herself as she reached for her goblet of mulled wine. "I would be honored, my Prince, but I have been away from Lannisport for far too long, and I dearly miss my family."


    The Queen seemed satisfied with Weiss' answer, yet Prince Joffrey narrowed his eyes as his grip on his goblet tightened. "Even if it is a command from your future king?"


    Weiss kept her political smile on her lips, her Heiress face, as the rest of Team RWBY called it, in full bloom here. She shouldn't be surprised that the Heir to the Seven Kingdoms was spoiled and didn't know the meaning of no. Not exactly helping matters was that the Queen seemed to dote on him, and she seemed to be a very bad parent. She would know, she'd been raised by a pair in her past life.


    "I will do as commanded, of course." Weiss said with a faux giggle that sounded unconvincing to her ears. "I merely ask for your understanding and mercy, Prince Joffrey. I haven't seen my family in several moons."


    The spoiled Crown Prince was about to respond, when the Queen interrupted him.


    "Grant Lady Weiss her wish, Joffrey." Queen Cersei's smile looked like a portrait upon her smooth skin. "I do not wish to hear her cries of missing Lannisport during our travels."


    Weiss remained silent and bowed her head, allowing the Queen's slight to pass. If she attempted to defend against it, then the Prince could come with another excuse to make her come along. Despite her wish to travel to Winterfell and find out if Ruby had been reborn as a Stark, Weiss did not wish to travel with the Royal Family, and the logistics simply wouldn't allow it.


    A wardrobe suited for cold weather, for her entire escort, as well as other supplies would take time to prepare. And her servants needed to rest or be swapped out, as well as being equipped as well for the bitter cold. Weiss wasn't going to be like the other Lords and Ladies, overworking them just because of a few vows. Especially since she would be taking them far outside their usual territory.


    Prince Joffrey furrowed his brow, his lips drawn in a nasty snarl. It disappeared as soon as it came, replaced by a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Very well, Lady Weiss. You may return to Lannisport, and I will have you summoned to King's Landing upon my return."


    Weiss bowed her head once more, this time in genuine gratitude. "You are very kind and merciful, your Grace."


    Likely said no one ever.








    Departing the Golden Tooth was easy, as Weiss gained a promise from Alysanne that the Lefford would soon return to Lannisport after she concluded some business. Weiss left soon after the Royal Party, heading in the opposite direction, much to her relief. Ravens had already been sent for Lannisport by the time the first of Weiss' horses left the Golden Tooth, and would arrive long before they did. At least her parents would be reassured she was on her way home properly.


    Which would be any day now at this pace. Weiss took a deep breath as she rode on Ruby, her Dornish mare which had been a nameday gift from her Father. Ruby was a sweet mare, with a reddish brown coat of hair, and oddly enough, had a habit of beelining towards strawberry bushes dating to when she was a foal. The rolling hills of the Westerlands felt comfortable to be passing through, after all, this was where she was raised. Green hills, fertile plains and rich mines dotted the landscape. Within a day or two, Lannisport would be in view.


    The city that would be her inheritance, the one that would be remade in her image, slowly, but surely. Change was already starting to happen, with the City Watch gradually coming under her control with loyal knight captains, and the White Tax that would help prevent any fires or accidents that threaten her great city. A small smile crept onto Weiss' lips, earning her a strange side glance from Cedric, who rode at her side at the head of the caravan.


    And soon, Weiss would be able to see Rosamund once more, her beloved sister. How much taller had she grown? Did she find any new sweets that she loved? Did Rosamund enjoy any flowers that may have bloomed in Weiss' absence? She was overjoyed to be a proper older sibling, and have it being reciprocated.


    If only she could go back in time and make things right with Whitley.


    "It is strange, seeing my Lady grace us with such a genuine smile." Cedric snarked. He seemed happy that their journey was now over. Guess she wasn't the only one who was homesick.


    Weiss rolled her eyes and didn't allow him to spoil her mood. "Oh, hush."


    She was finally home.


    A/N

    And with that, A Song of Weiss and Fire has been completed, its mysteries to never be revealed unless Night and I provide spoilers somewhere. I shall see you all in my next Weissikai, Transformers: More than meets the Weiss.










    Just kidding. It's time to start a new arc!
     
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    • Blake​



    It took a month to arrive at the Twins, and it wasn't due to the distance involved. No, a faster rider could make it in less time, with frequent horse changes and riding as hard as possible every step of the way. Instead of making for the Neck as soon as possible, Uncle Robert stayed at every keep possible, feasting and laughing as he went. And when they weren't feasting, he was out hunting with local lords and his entourage of parasites. It was a complete waste of time, in Blake's opinion at least. While she could understand being able to check in with his Lords, she felt it was more of a chance to indulge himself once more. She was sure that was a sentiment that she shared with Father. He rarely hosted feasts, and they were generally at the behest of Mother, who convinced him after moons of arguing.


    "You're more like your Father than you realize." Uncle Andrew said casually from her side, taking a polite sip of the cheap wine that had been offered to them. The best was reserved for Uncle Robert, who downed literal gallons of alcohol with his supper. Given they were being hosted by the Freys, she was half expecting the Late Walder Frey to try and pass off vinegar as wine for them.


    Blake didn't turn her head, though she did give him a glance out of the corner of her eyes. She took a sip and winced at the taste, flat and watery. Typical, even for the Royal party, House Frey skimped on the provisions. "A strange topic to discuss over supper, Uncle."


    They sat at the high table alongside Uncle Robert, the Kingsguard, and the Late Lord Walder Frey, who looked more like a dehydrated weasel than a man. A few of his children joined them, all laughing and jesting, as Uncle Robert drank all their wine and ate their food. The serving wenches carrying away empty bottles and plates and replacing them in what must've been a never-ending tide. Thankfully, Blake and her Uncle sat at the far end, away from Uncle Robert and Lord Walder and their crowd of sycophants. Still, with her enhanced hearing and given how loudly they were talking, Blake could easily hear their conversation. Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if the sentinels standing watch outside the doors could hear it, given how loud the Hall was.


    "And it's one I'm surprised you do not hear more often." Uncle Andrew smirked as he used a knife, decorated with an Estermont turtle, to slice into a nearby meat-pie. As he cut into the dish, steam arose from it, carrying with it an odor of roasted Auroch and vegetables. Not her favorite meal, but it was a fairly common dish at the Red Keep.


    Blake shrugged, which was rather unladylike according to her tutors and her mother. Nevermind that she'd seen her Mother do the exact same thing when she thought Blake wasn't looking. "My Mother is the one who I'm often compared to." And they were both called witches behind their backs, and other, less complimentary terms. Mother for her spells, and tendency to ramble about her tomes, and Blake for the intenseness of her eyes. If the public found out she was studying her Mother's tomes, she'd likely end up with yet another new moniker.


    "Yet, you have the Baratheon look." Uncle Andrew stuffed his mouth with the meat pie. "Hair as dark as your Father's, though far from being as thin." He said that last part with a light manly giggle. Was he aware of the treason committed by the Queen? Or was this just him making an observation? It was likely the former, given how close he was to Father.


    Blake frowned at her Uncle's slight, but demurred. What little hair her Father had atop his head was still pitch black, with no signs of any grays. He may not have been as strong as Ghira Belladonna may have been, but they still had plenty of similarities. A strong sense of justice, for starters.


    "I jest." Uncle Andrew swallowed. The main hall of the tower they were in was filled with people. Knights and minor lords sworn to the Freys, along with many of his small army of children by his many wives, long dead. The rest were from Uncle Robert's party, and Blake's. From her spot she could make out Ser Richard and Ser Clayton grimly eating alongside a Frey knight, likely one of Lord Walder's younger sons, or one of his son's sons. "You have his sense of justice."


    Blake used her two-pronged fork to stab a sausage resting on a nearby platter and dragging it over to her own plate. Once there, she began cutting it into smaller bite sized chunks with her knife. "I would not have relieved Ser Davos of his fingers."


    "Ser Davos is-was, a smuggler, and your Father's a hard man. I would have given him a kiss for those onions and salted fish." Uncle Andrew shrugged in response to her words. The Siege, where Uncle Andrew earned his knighthood, was still a sore subject for Father. Several of Mother's brothers had been there, serving as squires just outside the walls of Storm's End. Despite a rocky start, Father had somehow managed to earn Grandfather's respect, which Blake noticed during her last visit to Oldtown. "No, you have your Father's drive and sense of duty."


    "Justice is important, without it, we would lose ourselves." Blake angled her head in her Uncle's direction, looking past him, towards Uncle Robert. "I am not unyielding, unlike my Father." She truly did love him, but Blake had to admit that he often went to the extremes. Still, she had to admit, while he did go to some extremes, he was incorruptible and loyal. Both of which were rare traits in Westeros.


    Uncle Andrew took another bite of his meat pie, crumbles of the pastry getting stuck in his brown beard and a few pieces of ground meat and roasted vegtables tumbling to the table. He followed her gaze down the table to Uncle Robert, who was roaring with laughter at some crude joke by one of Lord Walder's sons. She thought it was Aenys, but the man had so many sons, they all blended together.


    Her Uncle finally swallowed and set down his dagger on the table, leaned closer to her, his voice low and gentle. "Your Father is unyielding because he has to be. At Storm's End, he had us eat boot leather, to hold our King's seat and home. At Dragonstone, he had us assault the Keep in the middle of a storm, with him taking the van in his flagship. Whatever your Father asked of us, he would not hesitate to do himself."


    Yet, Father yielded when Blake threatened to run away with Uncle Robert's party on his journey to Winterfell. Blake nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line as she pondered his deeds. She knew that side of her father all too well. Father's sense of duty was as heavy as a mountain, a weight he carried with no regard for how it might bear down on him or those around him. Blake admired him for it, yet at times, it felt as though he'd sacrificed parts of himself on the altar of duty. Her gaze lingered on the rowdy king and then drifted back to her Uncle Andrew.


    "Perhaps we are not as similar as you imagined, Uncle Andrew." Blake said softly. "Father follows his duty with his every breath, unchangeable. Justice should be more than just a duty, more than just loyalty." She picked at her food absentmindedly. How wasteful were all these feasts? The ones in King's Landing had dozens upon dozens of different courses, a waste of money and food, with anything left uneaten simply thrown away. Meanwhile, the poor smallfolk were starving just outside the walls, to the point the King's Landing's infamous 'Brown Stew' was hinted to be human in nature. "Justice should protect the innocent and punish the wicked, the highborn and lowborn alike."


    The smallfolk were always forgotten about in times of disaster and war. Yet, it was through their efforts that the entire system rested upon. Without them to plow the fields, there would be no Game of Thrones. Uncle Andrew listened intently, ignoring the jape from another Frey that was seated closely. "Perhaps, but your Father will not always be the Lord of Dragonstone. Soon, that title will be yours, should your Mother not give him a son. You will have to forge your own path."


    Uncle Andrew only treated her like an equal because he knew the truth about her skill at arms, and 'supernatural' abilities. Blake was sure he'd dismiss her 'fantasies' if it wasn't for that knowledge. It was monstrous, and yet, Westeros's biases ran deep. It didn't help that the Dance of Dragons had ripped the Kingdoms apart, in part due to such a question.


    "Perhaps." Blake murmured, her voice barely audible over the clamor of the hall. Any further conversation with her Father's former squire was interrupted by a weasel clearing his throat and speaking loudly.


    "Your Grace." Lord Walder Frey croaked, lifting a goblet of Arbor Red. "I hear that your Royal Niece is,is as yet, unwed. Perhaps I should offer one of my own fine sons, or grandsons. I am sure she'll find one she fancies.?"


    Blake narrowed her eyes and shot the human weasel a sharp glare, which Uncle Andrew noticed with a sly smile. Uncle Robert roared in laughter, red wine dripping down his many chins, soaking his royal doublet. Surprisingly, a woman wasn't sitting on his lap as his companion for the night. Heh, he had standards after all.


    Uncle Robert boomed as his many chins shook in response to the Master of the Twins words. "That's the funniest joke you've said all night, Frey." Huh. Guess even Robert didn't think that would be a good matchup for her.


    Only a fool would marry a Frey.








    They departed the Twins after two nights of feasting and drinking. Thankfully, the northern parts of the Riverlands were rather desolate, especially as they drew closer to the Neck. The black bog reminded Blake of Remnant, with half-drowned trees, and quicksand hidden beneath the muddy waters, with white fungus dotting the trees like polka dots. Here, the Kingsroad became the only dry safe route to the North, as the Royal Party traveled along the narrow causeway.


    Said causeway was a wood and log road that was rotting and made quite a nasty smell. Yet, it was the only way to cross the Neck. It was one part a deliberate form of defense on the North's part, and one part simply the difficulty in constructing anything in a swamp. Blake stared out of her small wheelhouse, her golden-amber eyes staring at the swamp. She saw what looked like a log drifting in the swamp, but then she noticed what looked like it was an eye, but it could just be a knot. It blinked, slowly. Guess was one of the infamous Lizard-Lions of the Neck.


    The Crannogmen lived in the bog, ruled by House Reed of Greywater Watch, loyal to House Stark, and the first line of defense for the Neck. Crannogmen were said to be smaller than an average human, sneakier too, according to one of the books Blake had brought along. The maesters said that they often fought with knives and frog spears, and that all of their weapons were poisoned. Others said that the Crannogmen had the ability to breathe underwater, and had webbed hands and feet. Blake had no idea how accurate her books were, but if she had to guess, most of the rather extreme ones had to be exaggerations.


    "If my Lady wishes to see a Crannogmen, give the command, and I shall see one brought before you." Ser Clayton Suggs boasted to her. He rode on a black stallion beside her wheelhouse. Ser Clayton was a short and burly man, with a bald head and brown teeth. With pig eyes and nose full of blackheads, he was easily one of her Father's ugliest knights. Yet, his skill with the battleaxe firmly attached to his hip was without question, as was his loyalty to her Father.


    "You'd be eaten alive by a Lizard-Lion, or drown in your own shit, if you leave the causeway." Ser Richard Horpe, just behind Ser Clayton, spoke up. The Knight of Moth's was the opposite of Ser Clayton. Tall, and lean, with dark hair and eyes of a killer. His formerly handsome face was covered in pockmarks and old scars from Father's campaigns in the Stepstones. His weapon of choice was a cutlass he had claimed from a pirate captain's body.


    Both also had longswords strapped to their horses saddles in addition to their usual weapons. It was a bit excessive, but in her mind, she supposed it was better safe than sorry. And if nothing else, having spares on hand in case they needed a further reach would be useful.


    The two were some of Father's finest knights, brave, loyal, and deadly with a blade, even if they would never be as skilled as Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan. Still, Ser Richard had been a candidate for a White Cloak, so he must've been skilled enough to give both at least some form of challenge. Of course, at the same time, given some of those who wore the White Cloak, well, it was questionable if skill truly was needed.


    "I'd skin the lizard where it lies." Ser Clayton snarled, shooting a glare at the nearby trees. His hand drifted towards the hilt of his battleaxe. She doubted it would help, melee combat with something like that would mean having to fight it in a swamp. Not exactly a good environment to face it if one wanted to live.


    "If the Crannogmen wish to not be found, they won't." Ser Richard said darkly. "They're likely watching us, even now."


    And he would be correct. Blake could sense that they were being watched, but as a human without her faunus features, she couldn't tell if it was the wildlife, or the Crannogmen keeping an eye on them. There were just so many possible things that could be watching them. Especially given how the lizard-lions had proven to be especially sneaky creatures.


    "Perhaps on our return, or when we camp at Moat Cailin." Blake said dryly. She would easily be able to sneak out of Moat Cailin unspotted, even in her personal armor. Even deaged and without her normal practice, Blake's aura made her stronger than any man and further enhanced her senses. Weiss was likely the only person in this world who could put up a decent fight against her, and likely win depending on the conditions of a practice fight.


    In a swamp such as this, the trees could make up for Blake's lack of Dust, and help her avoid the Lannister's glyphs. An open field would be another story, with Weiss' glyphs not needing Dust to actually be useful. On the other hand, that would require Blake being foolish enough to engage in a standup fight with Weiss.


    "As you command, my Lady." Ser Clayton said smugly, having been given 'permission' to hunt down a Crannogmen. He'd likely forget, distracted by the bosom of one of their camp followers. It would probably be a good thing, they didn't need the local guides to accidentally lead them into quicksand or some other nasty part of the Neck.


    Blake turned her attention away from them, to give the Royal Banners that flew high in the air a brief glance. The black stag on gold, with a crown around its neck, the symbol of her family. She touched the pendant with the same stag that was attached to her necklace. Lord Eddard Stark would need to be a wise man to keep the realm from falling apart. If he wasn't, then she was afraid the only answer left would be war.


    Blake was tired of traveling in the company of death.








    After an entire week traveling slowly across the causeway, Blake being thankful none of her wheelhouse wheels had decided to break, the Royal Party finally arrived at Moat Cailin. Despite being a shadow of its former glory, the ruined stronghold still held command of the causeway, easily being able to hold off a much larger force with fewer men. According to legend, it had never fallen, and allowed the First Men to fend off southern invasions for over ten thousand years. Only three of its original towers still stood, all covered in green moss and white ghostkin.


    As befitting her status as Uncle Robert's Royal Niece, Blake was quartered in the room beside her Uncle in the Gatehouse Tower, the largest of the three towers. A gnarled tree grew sideways from the stones on the northern side and reached towards her room's window with a twisted branch. If Blake didn't know better, she would have assumed that Moat Cailin was a Grimm stronghold, filled to the brim with the beasts of darkness.


    "When will that blasted woman arrive?!" Uncle Robert grumbled as he broke his fast in the hall. They ate at the massive table, carved out of dark stone that the rest of the tower was made out of. Torches and the smallest of slits to allow in air dimly lit the large room with high ceilings. Yet, for all the gloom of the place, there was a sense of purpose there, of history. It reminded her of her home at Dragonstone. This wasn't some dilapidated ruin barely kept intact.


    "A raven from the Twins arrived upon the morrow, your Grace." Ser Andrew spoke up, having joined them. He was still Uncle Robert's kin, even if he was closer to Father than the King. "Her Grace's wheelhouse suffered several broken axles and wheels, and will take some time to repair."


    "Ah fuck." Uncle Robert groaned and cursed. "I should have allowed that bitch to stay at Casterly Rock with the Old Man. We'd be at Winterfell by now."


    Ser Jaime Lannister was the Kingsguard on duty, standing a few feet behind her Uncle in full white armor. If he was scowling at the insult to his sister, his full-helm hid it. On the other hand, well, it was really hard to argue with. She had to suppress a grin at the image of Cersei's monster of a Wheelhouse trying to cross the causeway and failing. Maybe she'd fall into the swamp?


    Blake said nothing as she silently chewed on her piece of hard-bread coated in a thin layer of warm duck fat. It was strange, knowing the truth about her 'cousins', yet not being able to say a word. Even if the Lannister features were more dominant than a Baratheon, at least one of Cersei's children should have some features from Uncle Robert. Blue eyes, pitch-black hair, anything! In the end, all three of the Queen's children looked pure Lannister, from head to toe. And yet, nobody said anything. Sure, one or two would've been fine, but nobody else found it odd that all of his kids looked like Lannisters? Or did they just not want to get involved in the resulting mess? After all, if you made that accusation and were wrong, well, the results would be very messy and bloody for you.


    With Jon Arryn dead, that duty would fall upon Lord Stark. Hopefully he had learned from his ancestor, Cregan Stark. It'd worked pretty well at the time, to be fair, but here, in this delicate situation, it might not go well.


    "Bah! We'll set for Winterfell without them." Uncle Robert grumbled as he drank his mulled wine. His supply would have to be rationed until they finally left the Neck. Maybe that would get him to somewhat sober up? Hah, and snarks and gumpkins would frolic around them!


    "The Queen will find that to be a grave offense." Uncle Andrew said respectfully and bluntly. His eyes briefly drifted towards the Kingslayer before turning back to Uncle Robert.


    "That woman can find an offense in my chamberpot for all I care." Uncle Robert scoffed before turning to Blake with a sly grin. "Perhaps I should arrange a marriage between you and one of Ned's boys."


    It took all of Blake's self-control to not react outwardly, keeping her blank stare as she bowed her head politely, swallowing her toast. Still, it would be far superior to a Frey. At least the Starks were honorable and had a long and respectable history. And weren't somehow a pack of weasels that had learned how to walk upright. "My Father would be deeply offended, should you make such an arrangement without his consent, Uncle."


    Uncle Robert groaned loudly and threw his head back. "Fuck, I already hear enough shit from Stannis' mouth."


    Blake narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something she shouldn't. She joined her Uncle's journey to keep him safe, and to see if Ruby has been reborn as a Stark. Admittedly, the former was mostly an excuse to get a ride up to the North, but there was some merit to it.


    "Fine, we'll wait for the Lannisters." Uncle Robert sighed as he raised his goblet in the air. "More wine!"


    It took another week before the Queen arrived.


    A/N

    Just want to say one thing, since I know a few comments about this will appear in the future.


    Weiss is still the MC, even if the spotlight is briefly given to other characters.
     
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    • Blake​

    They departed Moat Cailin the day after the much delayed arrival of the Queen and her children. Blake had initially assumed that, with keeps so far apart from each other in the North, that they would've been able to make up for lost time. Of course, that ignored the fact that the North's roads were, to be blunt, anemic. Once one left the Kingsroad, which was fairly basic this far North, there was nothing but sheepherder's paths and basic trails. The Kingsroad turned to mud and dirt the farther North they traveled.


    It was a vicious cycle, people didn't travel up here, so the roads didn't get investment, and as a result, people didn't travel because the roads were in poor condition. Combine that with the Queen's large and impractical wheelhouse they were dragging along, and it meant they had to stop every few miles to repair its wheels or axles or change out some of the horses. Uncle Robert and the Queen had many a screaming match over the Wheelhouse, with him threatening to smash it into kindling after its most recent thrown wheel.


    That still didn't stop him from sleeping in her wheelhouse every night, since Uncle Robert neglected to prepare a tent that was suitable for the North's climate, even in Summer there was frost everywhere. Granted, she was one to talk, given it was nearly cold enough to start hitting her Aura. The weather reminded Blake of Atlas and how cold it was, minus the horde of Grimm that surrounded the kingdom.


    Blake shot the Royal Wheelhouse a sharp glare as she sat beside a fire, imagining the oversized hunk of wood burning, ideally with the Queen inside. If only her issues could be solved that simply, instead she had to worry about preventing a war and punishing the guilty. Uncle Robert would have Cersei's head on a stake, with Joffrey and Tommen sent to the Wall, with sweet Myrcella to the Faith. That would be the best scenario, with Father and Lord Stark hopefully restraining their King from anything more drastic. Of course, that would also leave Tywin Lannister as a factor, one that would need to be dealt with. The Old Lion wouldn't take this lying down at all.


    Her amber eyes kept staring into the fire that heated the cast iron pot that was suspended above the flames, and she could smell the aroma of the stew cooking inside of it. The fires licked the iron as the cook stirred what was inside with a long handled wooden spoon.


    "I thank R'hllor for the food provided." The Cook, Jon, added, which earned him a frown from Blake. Despite her Mother's attempts, there was a small core of people that had been converted by Melisandre. Numerous knights, men-at-arms, and servants now turned their gaze to R'hllor, Melisandre, and Father. On one hand, she could understand where they were coming from. The Red Faith did have legit miracles to play with, and given the Faith of the Seven was corrupt as sin, it was only logical to change religions. Yet at the same time, Melisandre reminded her of Cinder a fair bit. Sure, she was more caring, and surprisingly good with kids, but something about her felt off.


    Mother only kept her around because Melisandre had done what she promised, curing Shireen when no one else could. Even if Blake didn't like her, that was a debt that could never be repaid. She was sure Father felt the same way.


    Blake said nothing in response, keeping her eyes trained on the fire. It would ruin her night vision, but she didn't need to worry about that. Her aura would always ensure that her eyesight was better than that of a normal person. The dusk was starting to set in, and soon such fires, torches, and the moon would be their only sources of light.


    "The night is long and full of terrors, yet R'hllor's fire protects us." A harsh voice joined them, Ser Richard Horpe. He sat on a log that would soon be consumed by the fire, once it was needed. The would-be Kingsguard wore iron chainmail under a pitch black fur coat, with a longsword strapped by his side. His scarred face seemed to absorb the surrounding light, as he looked towards the fire, with hunger in his eyes.


    Blake turned her attention towards him for the briefest of moments, resting her elbow on the armrest of the small stool she sat upon. While he was one of Father's more bloodthirsty knights, his loyalty to him was ironclad. He would've made a fine whitecloak, but for the slattern masquerading as a Queen. "I didn't know you were a believer of Lady Melisandre, Ser Richard."


    "I only believe in what I can see." Ser Richard said bluntly. He eyed Jon the Cook, who returned the gaze when he thought the lean knight wasn't looking. It wasn't as intimidating, despite Jon's best efforts. A trained killer wasn't about to be scared by a Cook, no matter how many knives he had on hand. "It's not often that greyscale is cured."


    Blake pressed her lips into a thin line. If only Ser Davos had been able to return with Mother's tomes from Oldtown in time, she would've been able to heal Shireen herself. Still, what was done was done, and Shireen lived. It was a frightful display of the power Melisandre had on call, and had kickstarted the burgeoning Red Faith's presence on Dragonstone.


    "My Mother's spells are real." Blake said dryly. "As are mine." Left unsaid was that it was not her Mother's spells that had saved her younger sister, but rather Melisandre's Red God.


    Ser Richard's face remained impassive for a few seconds, before he bowed his head. "As you say, my Lady."


    He was her Father's man through and through. Blake narrowed her eyes as she gave the man a glare. She wished Brienne was here, but the future Evenstar was back on Dragonstone with Shireen, serving as her handmaiden and guard. Brienne had made no secret of her friendship with Shireen, and it was likely the woman would be her sworn sword one day. At least, until she took over as the Lady of Evenfall Hall on Tarth, that is. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Blake's ears to twitch ever so slightly, an old habit, even if it was with the wrong ears.


    "My Lady, Ser Richard." Uncle Andrew approached, a brown fur cloak wrapped around his tall form. It matched the shade of his beard, which hid his frowning lips. He ignored the cook and Ser Richard after his greeting, leveling his disapproving eyes in her direction. "You should be inside, Lady Baratheon, you shall catch a cold if you stay out here."


    And if she went inside one of the tents, she'd likely end up having to spend time with the Queen and her children. Hence, why she was sitting out here in the first place.


    "I enjoy the cold air, Ser Andrew." Blake said softly. Atlas had been extremely cold, to the point it actually caused her Aura to flicker, especially the day when everything went wrong and the great Kingdom fell to Salem and her Creatures of Grimm. The day they failed. "The wind kisses my cheeks, like the breeze from the Narrow Sea."


    The Estermont's frown never disappeared, but in the end he was no match for Baratheon stubbornness. "Your Father would have me gelled if you caught a chill. I shall have a servant bring another fur cloak, and more kindling for the fire."


    Blake said nothing else as she turned back to Jon the Cook, still stirring the stew. The aroma from the iron pot slithered its way into her nostrils, causing her stomach to grumble silently, hidden by the loud noises of men drinking and eating around the camp.


    The shadows caused by the fire grew longer as night fell.








    After several more days of traveling, repairs, and cold weather, Blake could finally make out the outline of Winterfell, which drew closer with every passing hour. A pit started to form in her stomach, which Blake tried to ignore by focusing on the book she brought along that discussed the Northern Houses. House Stark had ruled the North for over a thousand years, until House Targaryen came with fire and blood, and Torrhen Stark bent the knee before Aegon the Conqueror.


    "Quite a boring book you have there, my Lady." A voice snarked, coming from the open window that Blake kept propped to circulate the air. She gave the newcomer a brief glance out of the corner of her eyes.


    Green eyes, long blond hair, a sarcastic smile, and a white cloak. Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer trotted alongside her wheelhouse upon his stallion. He fit the stereotypical image of a knight for both Westeros and Remnant, objectively attractive, good with a sword, and superficially charming.


    "History is never boring, Ser Jaime." Blake said bluntly, closing the book. History would show that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were his bastards born of incest. His reputation would be further sullied, hopefully enough to overshadow his infamy as the Kingslayer. "Without it, we are doomed to repeat past mistakes."


    "Yet I always fell asleep during my lessons." Ser Jaime continued, in a brash tone. "How dull, just like your Lord Father."


    Blake turned her head quickly to shoot him a sharp glare. These Lannisters always overstepped their boundaries. It was a miracle Weiss was able to survive and prosper among them. Then again, the Schnee was one of the strongest people she knew, mentally at least. And it was oddly fitting for her to wind up there.


    "I'm sure you have better things to do than insult my Father, Ser Jaime." Blake narrowed her eyes at the Kingslayer. "What business do you have with me?"


    Ser Jaime ignored her glare as his stallion kept pace with the slow wheelhouse. "His Grace requests that you ride beside him when we arrive at Winterfell."


    A great honor, one that made Blake nervous. It took all of her self-control to not jump out of the stands when she was reunited with Weiss, if Ruby was here as she suspected, Blake didn't know how she would be able to react. She best start preparing herself, steeling her face and eyes. If she was right, and Ruby was one of Lord Stark's daughters, then she really couldn't act on impulse. She needed to be calm and collected here.


    "Very well." Blake reopened her book, turning to the section about Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell during the Dance of Dragons. "You may go." She used her best impression of Weiss, channeling all the heiress's detachment and disdain from her early days at Beacon.


    Ser Jaime dipped his head slightly, his laid-back smile never leaving his face as he urged his horse onward, leaving Blake alone once more with her thoughts and book. She turned a page, getting to the Hour of the Wolf, which made her smile a little.


    If only Yang was here to join her.








    Wiinterfell was a grand keep, with two huge walls and numerous towers from what Blake could see. Guard turrets that sat upon the outer and inner wall made the Stark ancestral home look as impenetrable as Storm's End. If the legends were true, Brandon the Builder constructed Winterfell with the help of giants and magic long gone. Just outside the main gatehouse, sat the winter town, with rows of plain log and stone houses. It was a fantastic castle to see, not as grand as her Dragonstone, but amazing nonetheless.


    "Bah! Look at her!" Uncle Robert said with a large grin. He wore his crown that seemed to be made out of antlers, and wore a black doublet decorated with the Baratheon stag in yellow. "Much prettier than Dragonstone, eh?"


    Blake gave her Uncle an impassive glance, riding alongside him. She wore a black dress that covered her shoulders and arms, with a matching fur coat that wrapped around her slender form. Several feet behind them rode Joffrey, along with his lackey, the Hound. Ser Richard Horpe and Ser Andrew joined them, though they rode closer to Blake than the Crown Prince as part of her entourage.


    "Dragonstone has its own charm, your Grace." Blake said dryly and with a hint of homesickness. Ahead of them rode the members of the Kingsguard, with Ser Jaime holding a white banner, and Ser Mandon Moore the Royal Banner, both wearing their full set of white plate armor and decorated helmets. A dozen other knights from the Crownlands, Westerlands, Stormlands joined them as Uncle Robert's honor guard. Ser Boros Blount joined the Queen, riding alongside her wheelhouse further back.


    "A shame your pretty eyes are blind, Blake." Uncle Robert laughed at his own joke, with Ser Andrew joining in. Uncle Robert urged his stallion faster, the beast gradually picking up speed in response to his spurring. "Come on! I want a warm bath you fucks! Ride faster!"


    With that, the knights urged their horses onward at a gallop, with Blake matching her Uncle's speed. Holding onto her reins tightly as her hair whipped with the wind, Blake took a deep breath as they rushed into Winter Town.


    All she could do was hope that her prayers would be answered.








    Weiss​


    Weiss' armor felt like a second skin, and after her debut in King's Landing, Weiss no longer had to hide her skills, nor her glyphs. Wielding the blunted copy of Kalimeris, she lunged forward, scraping her opponent's shield with a screech of steel on steel. The knight was as armored as she was, with full plate and helm, yet Weiss danced around him as if she wore nothing at all. Another slow strike was directed towards his helm, which he blocked by moving his longsword to intercept.


    The training yard of the Gold Keep was full, filled with spectators as Weiss and her opponent continued their duel. Rosamund in particular yelled the loudest, standing beside Alis and Septa Loria. Father and Mother sat beside her, with a third seat unused by her little sister. Some of her previous victims stood there, shouting encouragement at her current partner, either out of actual sympathy or because they bet money on him winning, the poor saps. Podrick was the only one actually cheering for his distant cousin.


    "You're slowing down, Cedric." Weiss snarked as she relaxed her grip on her blade. Cedric turned to face her, keeping his shield close and sword at hand. He'd learned to keep an eye on her at all times, this was just a remedial lesson since he had grown lazy. "All of Lannisport is watching, you best not embarrass me, you're my sworn knight."


    "Of course, my Lady." Cedric refused to move, his feet planted on the ground like a tree. Either he was too tired to try and dance around her, or he was playing to his advantage by making her come to him. "However, I wish to be able to sleep tonight without any bruises."


    Weiss smirked underneath her helm as she aimed her blunted blade at Cedric. "It's a pity, then, I'm afraid that simply isn't possible."


    Cedric adjusted his grip on the longsword, slightly dipping his head. "Fuck."


    Her smirk turned into a grin as Weiss bent her knees slightly to launch herself once more. She could see Cedric taking a nervous step back as he raised his shield in expectation of an impending attack.


    It was good to be home again.


    A/N

    Another week, another chapter. Now that its almost the end of the year, several GOT/ASOIAF fanfic competitions have started! A Song of Weiss and Fire has also been entered, so feel free to go vote and check out the other amazing stories.


    Voting links will come as they open.
     
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