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A Song of Weiss and Fire

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Krieg Schnee said:
She decided that she liked King Robert.
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Thoughts that won't age well

Like, Robert wasn't a horrible King per say. He let Jon Arryn do the actual while he "eat, drink and fuck into an early grave"

Unfortunately, he was on-route to bankrupt the Iron Throne with so many feasts and tournaments.

And while Cersei Is a monstrous Woman, the ghost of Lyanna Never stopped hunting Robert, so any chance for a functional Marriage from him was Dead
 
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1-21
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    • Dramen ​

    Despite his low status amongst the other great houses that had come to Casterly Rock for the war, Dramen had been chosen as one of the lords that would attend King Robert's war council. Greater men that he also attended, Bronze Yohn Royce, Ser Barristan the Bold, Ser Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer, and of course his liege lord, Lord Tywin. Other lords from the Westerlands, Stormlands, Crownland and a few from the Riverlands had also been invited to sit at the table, but they were lesser lords. Invited for political reasons or to simply be polite. Dramen remained silent, seated further back beside a Buckwell and a Buckler. King Robert sat in Lord Tywin's seat, with a goblet of wine in his large hands, one that his squire, a Massey boy judging by his doublet, ensured always remained full of wine.


    "Gods it's been years since I've been in a good fight." King Robert sighed loudly. "Tourneys aren't fun anymore, every fucker is scared of 'harming their king', and those who don't aren't even remotely good at fighting. Good on you Tywin, if it wasn't for your fleet burning, I wouldn't have been able to relieve some stress now with my warhammer." Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime stood on each side of the King, the only men with swords within the war room. The Kingslayer looked like he wanted to burst out laughing.


    "House Lannister is glad to be of service, your Grace." Lord Tywin answered dryly. He seemed harder and colder than usual, evidently he and his royal Goodson didn't get along. That could prove very interesting to use. "Our forces are ready to sail once Lord Stannis reports that he smashed the Iron fleet."


    "Bah, should be any day now. Stannis is a prickly fuck, but he knows how to do his job." King Robert waved him off. "Have we heard from Ned?" Ah yes, the King's savage brother-in-arms, at least he was raised in the Vale alongside civilized folk.


    "A raven from Seagard arrived this morrow." Maester Creylin spoke up. "Lord Stark has met with Lord Mallister and the Riverlords. They are ready to sail once your Grace commands."


    King Robert formed a large grin and downed the rest of the wine in his goblet, Arbor Red dripping down his cheeks and into his beard. The Massey boy instantly refilled the goblet with the pitcher that never left his hands. "Good, good. Once Stannis returns, send a raven, have Ned meet us on Pyke."


    King Robert finally rose from Lord Tywin's chair and looked at the map of the Iron Islands. "Ned, Lannister and I shall take Pyke. Stannis can have the Great Wyk, give him command of the Crownland levies, those should be more than enough."


    Dramen would likely be refused the honor of joining any invasion force, to focus on the repairs of Lannisport. Not that he minded, he did know the city better than anyone else, and quite frankly, he wasn't sure Tywin wouldn't arrange an 'accident' if he went into combat.


    "Old man, are you feeling bold today?" King Robert turned to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Take the Riverlords here and siege Old Wyck, Yohn, you'll assault Harlaw."


    "As you command, your Grace." The older men said, nearly in unison. Being placed in such a high role was a great honor, stories would be written about the days to come. It would become a part of their already impressive legends. Assuming of course, nothing went wrong.


    "Once Pyke falls and Balon Greyjoy bends the knee, the rest of his shoal should follow." King Robert scratched his beard, which hid his developing second chin. "I can already smell the piss in his breeches."


    Yet, what would happen should Balon Greyjoy refuse to bend the knee? And even then, should they keep the Greyjoys in power? History would repeat itself, better to simply to remove the house altogether, and place a newer, more loyal one in their place. Or maybe even, a darker corner of his mind argued, just conquer and redistribute the land to other Houses? Sure it was desolate, but it was better than constant raids by heathen fools. Dramen was sure a few distant Lannister cousins would appreciate having their own keeps.


    "Dramen."


    "Yes, your Grace?" Dramen turned his head to look at their king, keeping his gaze low and respectful. He did not need any more enemies, and embarrassing the Lannisters in front of the King? Decorum be damned, Tywin would jump across the table to strangle him if he even thought that would happen.


    "I hear that your whelp has been embarrassing squires in the training yard." King Robert sounded amused. "Including Lorch. How does a little girl defeat a trained knight in a duel?"


    "The septons claim she has been blessed by the Seven, your Grace." Dramen answered. Rumors had already started to spread, about Weiss slaying four Ironborn raiders, the defeat of Ser Amory Lorch, and the results of her duels in the training yard, despite his best efforts to dissuade them. He had to pay off a few members of the Great Sept of Lannisport, but it worked out in the end. Ceria's dedication in taking Weiss to pray at the Sept every seven days had also assisted his efforts.


    "Blessed or not, it's unnatural." King Robert boomed, handing his goblet to Massey to refill it. "I wish to see her for myself. Tywin, arrange for one of the training yards for my use."


    Dramen's eyes widened slowly, his lips suddenly dry, yet he bowed his head all the same. How could he refuse a king's command? Dramen swore he could feel Tywin's glare from across the table, without even looking his way."As you command, your Grace."


    "She'll fight Justin." King Robert continued, filling his mouth with more Arbor red. His squire was a large boy, with straight white-blond hair and blue eyes. The war room was filled with the giggles of full grown men, laughing at the King's squire. Many of them didn't believe the rumors, aside from Lord Lefford and a handful of others who visited the Gold Keep during Weiss' lessons with Ser Janas. He could see some of the wiser men making bets, and he resisted the urge to grin. A fool and his gold were soon parted.


    "Y-Your Grace?" Justin Massey's grip on the pitcher tightened.


    "What? Scared of losing to a girl that hasn't even flowered?" King Robert's cheeks turned a light pink as he laughed.


    "N-No." The Squire shook his head. "I'll fight her." And lose, Dramen trusted his daughter. Her track record so far was impressive, so one random squire was not likely to change it in the least. Now, if Robert had picked one of the Kingsguard, that would be another matter altogether.


    "Good." King Robert turned to Lord Tywin. "Make the arrangements before lunch. I always enjoy food with a show." How insulting, even for the Lannisters of Lannisport. They were a noble family, not fools who provided entertainment.


    "As you command, your Grace." Lord Tywin's voice sounded as if it could cut steel.


    Dramen knew his daughter would make him proud.







    Weiss​

    The arrival of King Robert meant that Weiss and her Mother had to spend more time in Casterly Rock itself, accompanying Father as he attended meetings with the King about the war. Ladies weren't allowed to attend, for their hearts were weak and many would faint at the mere mention of blood, was the common excuse many Westerosi men used. It annoyed Weiss, she had been in countless battles back on Remnant, against the Grimm, Salem's followers, and rogue huntsmen. She was capable of handling herself! Yet no one here would ever take a seven year old girl seriously.


    Weiss practiced her needlework in one of Casterly Rock's gardens, attempting to sew a red ribbon that would have the sigil of House Redwyne. Mother had been the one to suggest it, not that Weiss ever planned on gifting it to Stuar. Instead, she used the center of the first grape as the start of a white rose. She resisted the urge to retreat into happier memories, she couldn't afford to lose her awareness. Not now.


    "You have such a lovely daughter, Lady Ceria." Lady Genna said casually. In her youth she might've been able to be called pretty, but now she was fat and broad, with an enormous bosom that seemed annoying to deal with. Her face was still smooth, and Lady Genna's hair was pulled into a casual bun. And yet, her attitude didn't match her appearance. Sure, she was uncouth, but she took no grief from anyone, and was one of the rare few who could backtalk to Lord Tywin and not get in trouble.


    "Thank you, Lady Genna." Mother formed a small and polite smile. More than a few other ladies joined them, including Alysanne, Lady Lefford, her Mother, Lady Marband, and Lady Dorna Swyft. Alis remained in the Gold Keep, her family standing too low to have been invited into the greatest keep of the Seven Kingdoms. Weiss would ensure that she would never be left behind again. At least, if she had any ability to, that is.


    Weiss bowed her head with a small smile as she grimaced on the inside. She disliked garden parties with other noble ladies, they were boring and did nothing but gossip about which lord had fathered a bastard, or what lady was having an affair with a baker. Still, it would be useful practice for the future once Weiss inherited the title of Lady of Lannisporr, politics would be important. And hey, could be worse. At least here, the parties were smaller than what she had to deal with in Atlas.


    "It looks to me she inherited more Velayron blood than Lannister." Lady Marbrand said, nursing a ceramic cup filled with Yi-Tish tea. The plain woman knew what she was implying, that Weiss was a bastard child, a subtle insult. Quite a bold move for her, very unusual at that.


    "She has the Lannister nose and chin." Lady Genna said before her Mother could retort. She waved off Lady Marband. "My poor Cleos, he looks more like his Father with every passing day. Soon he'll be off to war, I hope he returns with a knightship." Everyone knew that Frey's looked more weasel than human. Based on the stories she'd heard, that was an insult to weasels. The Late Lord Frey had poisoned his house's reputation even worse than what Jacques had done to the Schnee name.


    "The Seven shall return him home safely." Weiss finally spoke politely. As much as she disliked religion, if she was going to survive in this world Weiss was going to have to use it to her advantage. She spent the last week turning her glyphs into snowflakes with seven points, which was harder than she expected. Playing up how 'pious' she was in public would be annoying, but worth it in the long run. One lesson she knew intimately was the value in a good public image, and the Faith had significant soft power here. Alienating them was surely an unwise idea. While she could theoretically fight off any number of assassins, her parents could not, nor was she invulnerable, Weiss still had to sleep and eat, and that was when any intelligent assassin would strike. Her Aura wouldn't shield her from a strong poison dribbled into her cup by a passing servant.


    "You should pray seven times on the morrow." Lady Dorna added timidly. House Swyft was a minor family with a long history, yet Ser Harys Sywft somehow managed to arrange for his daughter to marry Ser Kevan. He must've been a political mastermind, or knew where the bodies were buried.


    Lady Genna gave her an annoyed look, and was about to respond when the sound of light footsteps approaching interrupted her. It was a large boy, bigger than someone his age should be, wearing a fine brown doublet with a black and white boar stitched over his right breast.


    "What do you want?" Lady Genna gave him a single look before turning back to the generous slice of apple cake on her plate. She was the Lady of Casterly Rock in all but name since Lord Tywin's wife died giving birth to the Imp, who Weiss surprisingly still hadn't seen.


    "King Robert and Lord Tywin request the presence of Lady Weiss Lannister." The Crakehall boy answered with a nervous tone.


    Weiss pressed her lips in a thin line as she almost stabbed herself with the needle. Great, King Robert hasn't even been here for two days and he already wanted to see her, likely due to the rumors that Lord Tywin was spreading. She already knew it was him who did it, after all, who would dare try to disobey his orders to keep the duel with Lorch? The Old Lion was starting to lose his touch.


    The thin line soon turned into a discreet smirk.








    Weiss was given the chance to change before she was led to the training yard by the Crakehall boy. Wearing a red leather doublet with darker trousers that fit this time, Weiss had her hair tied into a ponytail with a matching red ribbon, the one she had been working on not even an hour earlier. It felt ironic, being led to another duel to test her by another Crakehall. What did Blake used to call that, deja vu? The training yard chosen this time was one of the larger ones in Casterly Rock, fit to hold at least a hundred men. The Crakehall boy said nothing as Weiss walked into the yard, her eyes easily adjusting to the bright midday sun.


    "You may go." Weiss said softly so the big soft boar could leave her alone. The Crakehall boy muttered his thanks and quickly scurried away, more rat than boar. Not that she could blame the boy, she had developed a bit of a reputation among the squires. Besides, if they were being beaten by a seven year old girl, then really, they needed more training.


    The courtyard waa full, with an elaborate chair seated at the far end. King Robert sat in it, with Father at his left side and Lord Tywin to his right in a smaller seat. All three members of the Kingsguard were present, in their full white armor and cloaks. The sides of the training yard were filled with the lords and knights that King Robert had brought with him. They had been engrossed in their own conversations and whispers, yet the yard turned silent the moment Weiss walked in. Weiss gave their king a short, yet respectful bow.


    "You're shorter than I expected." King Robert said bluntly. His cheeks were red from the alcohol he had likely been drinking. Lord Tywin gave her a blank stare while Father looked worried as always. "And look more like a fucking Targ than a Lannister."


    Weiss tried to bite her tongue, but failed. "My apologies, your Grace. I shall endeavor to be born with blonde hair in my next life." She said with a slight sarcastic tone. Lord Tywin shot her a sharp glare at that. Ser Jaime looked amused, and stared at her like a lion would a mouse.


    King Robert stared at her silently for a few seconds, before he started bursting out laughing and giggling. "You have balls, talking to your king like that, it must be the arrogant Lannister blood in you. Gods know it can get tiring after a while."


    Weiss remained silent as King Robert continued laughing to himself. There was no safe answer here, especially not given his reaction. She immediately reevaluated her opinion of the man. He obviously wasn't just some mindless warrior, he had a brain in there, somewhere behind that beard.


    "This child's more brave than a lot of you!" King Robert sighed and shook his head. "I've been hearing a lot of hearsay about you, girl. You're here to fight my squire, prove that you're blessed by the Gods or some shit." He was rather crude, wasn't he.


    The King's squire was tall, at least two or three times as tall as Weiss was. He wore heavier armor than Ser Amory Lorch, and a full-helm that covered every bit of skin on his face. The Squire wielded a tourney blade, and a shield with three spirals painted red, green and blue. She could tell just from how he was holding his blade this was going to be more of a challenge. This was a squire with some skill, not an upjumped killer or young boy.


    "As you command, your Grace." Weiss bowed once more and went to the weapon rack to grab a tourney blade. Ever since she was allowed to train with the men, her strength had started to increase. The gathered lords and knights started to murmur as Weiss moved to her position, around five feet away from the Squire. Out of the corner of her eyes, Weiss spotted an extremely short person, with mismatched eyes and thin hair staring straight at her. The Imp was hiding in between two Lannister knights, likely cousins of his. Her first thought was of Neo, that diminutive psychopath who had hung around with that ruffian Roman, before his tragic demise. Yet, unlike her, he didn't give off an aura of suppressed murder. He wasn't as monstrous-looking as the whispers said, though to be fair, he was still far from being called handsome like his older brother. .


    Pushing that out of her mind, Weiss took up her regular stance, holding the tourney sword with her left hand, and her legs close together as if she was doing ballet. The Squire held his shield closely, with his sword behind it, attempting to square his body defensively. Giving King Robert a side glance, Weiss formed the symbol of the Seven over heart with her free hand.


    "Start already." King Robert waved them off with an enormous hand. The King's Squire instantly started to advance, though Weiss could tell he was hesitant by his footwork. Weiss took a few steps forward quickly, not as encumbered as she was by fear.


    The Squire was caught off guard, and used his shield to follow her movements. Good, he wasn't underestimating her. When she was in striking distance, Weiss struck, slamming her sword against his shield in an attempt to judge his level of strength with a loud thud. To his credit, the Squire didn't flinch, catching the blow on the rim, and attempted to counterattack her with a downward strike.


    Weiss used her own blade to meet his own with a clang, guiding his sword away by using her Aura enhanced strength. The Squire noticed and tried hitting Weiss with his shield, forcing her back. His armor was heavy, and his full-helm obscured his vision, yet he had managed to force her back a step or two. Allowing herself to smirk, Weiss was back on the move, moving towards his right. The Squire tried another swing, but he missed, used to fighting opponents that were the same size as him or bigger.


    Using her superior speed to get behind him, Weiss struck. First with his shoulders, slamming her blade against the metal armor that protected his vitals. The Squire responded by trying to smash his shield into her face, a bit of a one trick pony for this one, yet Weiss' quick footwork allowed him to miss. No longer hesitant, Weiss was likely starting to get on his nerves.


    "What's your name?" Weiss asked suddenly, launching herself for another strike. She jabbed him in the shoulder, and narrowly dodged a counter strike from his sword this time. It seemed he was starting to lose his temper. Good. This could be over fast if that was the case.


    "Justin Massey." The Squire declared with a light groan from the jab to the shoulder. Yet still he stood, unyielding. He wasn't going to give up that easily, it seemed. Well, she was playing around with him.


    "Well, Justin Massey." Weiss twirled her tourney sword casually in her left hand and aimed it at the young squire. "I apologize in advance if I send you to the maester."


    King Robert started to laugh when Weiss charged forward, faster than before and with several dozen thrust, forced Justin back onto the defensive. She used enough strength for each one to make a loud thud, that must've been audible enough to be heard in the stands. She couldn't imagine what it would've been like under that helm, and yet, still he stood. Weiss caught a glimpse of steel behind his shield, and changed her movements with a slash.


    A loud clang strummed through the air as Weiss slashed at Justin's helmet. A second hit to his head caused him to stumble. She was about to hit him in the side, when someone burst through the doors that lead out of the training yard. It was a small man that had a small chin, yet he strode with authority. His doublet was decorated with a drawbridge and a Lannister lion on quarters, one of Lady Genna's sons most likely. Weiss didn't allow him to distract her and a heavy hit to the back of Justin's leg forced him onto his knees, then she allowed herself to pause.


    "What's the meaning of this, boy?!" King Robert boomed as he stood up from his seat. Next to him, Tywin rose as well, never showing his true emotions. This was worrying, but what could it be?


    "M-My apologies, your Grace." The Frey stuttered as he bowed deeply. "I bring news from Lannisport."


    Great, it better not be another attack. At least this time she had a proper weapon on hand. Even if it was a training blade, it was still a vast improvement over a letter opener.


    "Get on with it, boy." King Robert narrowed his eyes. The Frey nodded rapidly, his chin quivering as he pulled out the scroll he carried in a pouch at his waist.


    "It's the Royal fleet, your Grace! Lord Stannis has returned!" The Frey said excitedly. "He has smashed the squids in the Strait of Fair Isle." A roar rose up throughout the area, she swore she could see even Tywin's lips curl upwards in a vague resemblance of a grin for a brief moment. It disappeared as soon as it came.


    "Ha! Stannis won, did he?" King Robert started laughing again. "Prepare the banners, we shall leave before a fortnight comes, I wish for Balon Greyjoy to be on his knees before the new year comes." The group of gathered lords and knights cheered, ready to win their houses and king glory.


    "And Lannister?" King Robert pulled Weiss out of her thoughts. "I name you the victor, it was a fine duel, even with this interruption."


    "Thank you, your Grace." Weiss bowed her head. Always good to be polite, even if she didn't think she'd won this. Sure, she was winning, but overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer. Who was she kidding, Weiss would've won in the end.


    "Bah, one day I hope to see you give the Kingslayer a run for his coin." King Robert clasped his hands together. "What a day that will be, the Kingslayer losing to a little girl." Ser Jaime didn't seem to hear, busy in conversation with Ser Barristan. It didn't matter, Weiss was going to be busy now that the fleets returned.


    She had to check and see if Stuar was okay.








    Weiss had changed back into the dress she was wearing when a servant led her to the room her parents were using temporarily for their visits to Casterly Rock. She was surprised they weren't preparing to return to Lannisport and had her meet at the Lion's Mouth to depart. By the time Weiss walked into their room, Father and Mother were both pale, staring at a letter with shaky hands.


    "Mother, Father, why aren't we preparing to return to Lannisport?" Weiss asked, taking light steps to approach them. They were acting strange. They were nervous, but about what?


    Father was the first to look up with sad, but relieved eyes. Mother continued to shake as she held the letter. "Weiss, Sweetling, you may want to take a seat."


    Weiss nodded and sat in one of the expensive long benches with the nice cushions. "What happened, Father?"


    Father licked his dry lips before he started to speak. "Stuar Redwyne, your betrothed, waa slain during the Battle of Fair Isle by a Harlaw Knight."


    Weiss froze, her eyes wide. S-She wasn't expecting that kind of news at all. Staur was stationed aboard the Redwyne flagship was he not? He should've been stationed in the rear, not dead. They had only known each other for a short while, but Stuar had seemed kind. He might not have been her first choice of a husband, but she could've done a lot worse. Her cheeks felt moist as she started to cry, not for her betrothed, but for the boy that would never reach manhood. Mother and Father soon wrapped around Weiss, holding her closely.


    Gods were cruel in every world.


    A/N

    Another long update came out faster than I initially expected.


    And we have new art donated by kclcmdr so feel free to check it out in the media thread!
     
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    I'm surprised Weiss is crying about an unimpressive fiancee she met for 3 days. She should be hardened to death from life in Remnant. ASOIAF will not be kind to her.
     
    1-22
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    • Weiss​


    Within a week the Gold Keep and Casterly Rock were empty, with Lord Stannis sailing King Robert and his large army to the Iron Isles. The sellswords and hedge knights, at least, those that had survived the battle had joined the Redwyne fleet. There, they would form the vanguard of the invasion force, based off of the whispers from the kitchen maids. Doris, one of the cooks, had been sleeping with one of Lord Royce's knights, who told her such information during one of their nightly activities. Doris then started to spread the news amongst the other cooks, which then led to Weiss' ears, though the version she was told was sanitized and not filled with expressions that Weiss would rather avoid. Men and women were savage and uncouth in this world, when such activities should be kept private. Father Jacques had kept his affairs private, even if all of Atlesian high society knew.


    "It's such a tragedy, my Lady." Alysanne sniffled. The two walked arm in arm having exited the carriage that had brought them back from the Great Sept of Lannisport. Ser Robart followed them silently, dressed in a brown leather doublet. Stuar's funeral had been earlier that day, and as his former betrothed, Weiss had to stand in as the chief mourner since his family was still in the Arbor. The Silent Sisters would now prepare his bones to be returned home, aboard the Arbor's Delight, the very ship where his blood had been spilled by one of the sons of Harras Harlaw. From what Weiss had heard, House Harlaw was one of the few houses that kept septons in their keep, the Ten Towers. "Lord Stuar was so young."


    "He was." Weiss said softly. She was wrapped in a black dress with a matching veil, it made her already pale skin look even paler. The funeral had gone as expected, with a septon droning for hours about Staur's bravery in the fight against the heretics that worshiped the Drowned god. It was tedious, impersonal, and felt like the septon was trying to convince more knights and noble families to join the war effort or make donations to the Sept. In the end, none of it really mattered.


    King Robert was a seasoned commander, and with the Iron Fleet smashed by Lord Stannis the Iron Isles were open to invasion. Lords, knights, and levies came from all over the Seven Kingdoms, except from Dorne, who had great hatred for King Robert and anyone who bore the name Lannister. Weiss didn't blame them, not with the way Princess Elia met her end if the rumors were true, and even then, they were always the outlier in the kingdom in terms of relations. Aegon the Conqueror and his descendants had to bring them into fold through marriage, not war.


    "I prayed for your Father's safe return." Weiss continued speaking. Lord Lefford may have been in charge of the supply lines, but that was still a dangerous position with the remnants of the Iron Fleet hiding in one of the many islands. Should he fall in battle, Alysanne would have to leave to take her position as Lady of the Golden Tooth. Weiss didn't want to see one of her new friends go.


    "You are very kind, my Lady." Alysanne smiled. Alis would join them later, she had decided to spend more time at the sept. Weiss felt it was a waste of time, but she wasn't going to voice that opinion out loud. If Alis drew some comfort from this, then more power to her, though she hadn't seem to be the most devout of girl until the attempted Sack of Lannisport.


    "Please, just Weiss when it's the two of us." Weiss tilted her head in a childlike manner. Forming allies when she was young would prove to be invaluable once she was older. The Lefford's were one of the stronger families in the Westerlands, and the Golden Tooth guarded one of the main roads into the Lannister heartland. Those connections meant she could get in contact with people traveling into and out of the Westerlands with ease, which could prove useful.


    Once she refreshed herself, Weiss was going to be busy assisting Mother and Father with their various duties. Mother in preparing the Gold Keep for the return of King Robert, and Father who was organizing a victory tourney alongside the reconstruction of the docks and replacing the fallen officers of the City Watch. They had taken heavy losses during the Sack, and would take time to reinforce and train. It was arguably easier to replace the lower ranked watchmen than the higher ranks, simply because some of them weren't suited for the role. Some Watchmen just couldn't handle the higher rank. Knights would be needed to replace the dead officers. However, you couldn't just grab any old Ser and stuff them into a watch uniform. They had to carefully selected for the task at hand.


    "As you say, Weiss." Alysanne nodded. Weiss was thankful that both of her friends hadn't given her strange looks or remarks about training with a sword, the Westerlands didn't have a history of female fighters like the North, Dorne or the Riverlands. This could simply be due to her saving their lives, or just them being really good friends.


    "Good!" Weiss turned her attention forward. It was a matter of time now, the war would soon be over and Weiss' life would be back to normal. Well, as normal as could be. She felt excited, it had been years since Weiss had attended a tournet, before her memories returned. The invitations had already been written and prepared, Father was simply waiting for news of King Robert's victory before sending them out.


    Weiss was sure the Tourney of Lannisport would be one to remember.









    Cedric Payne​

    Fighting on solid ground felt much better than at sea, now that he had properly experienced both. With a lance, upon his war horse, and clad in the heaviest armor the hedge knight could afford, Cedric felt right at home. Yet, all he had was his heavy armor, longsword and Rod, a fortnight into the siege of Pyke. The sellswords and hedge knights that had been pressed into the Redwyne fleet had been ordered by King Robert to storm the beaches of Pyke, despite their horses being left behind in the stables of Lannisport to make room for the siege engines and war horses of the great lords of the Seven Kingdoms. It was unfair, but Cedric would rather fight with King Robert than Stannis Baratheon, the prickly Master-of-Ships.


    The storming of the beach had been a week ago, and despite heavy losses, they had carried the day. Cedric and Rod however, had somehow made it through without a single scratch. The following week was spent smashing the Botley keep and storming Lordsport before King Robert finally turned his attention to Pyke itself. Catapults, trebuchets and battering rams spent another week assaulting the southern walls, while the Ironborn remained fortified in their grand keep of stone, cowering and occasionally firing off volleys of arrows.That is, until today when things changed. An opening in the walls had finally formed, the stone smashed apart by the trebuchets that had been hauled from the Westerlands to here.


    "I'm scared, Coz." Rod whispered beside Cedric. He was wearing Cedric's lighter armor, a chain shirt with a half-helm and well-worn leather boots. Rod carried a short sword and shield with the sigil of House Payne, the colors now dull and faded. This was partially due to not having the time to polish it, but also to not draw attention to them with a brightly colored shield or other heraldry.


    They had been placed in front, alongside the surviving sellswords and hedge knights, all in well worn and battered armor. Joining them were men-at-arms from the North, led by a large man that had the sigil of a bear. Cedric had only gotten a glimpse of the lord who had been given command of the van, but it was enough. The Mormont was large and stocky, with a thick beard and a balding head. Surprisingly, he stood at the front of the gathered men, around five hundred strong. Thousands more were gathered behind them, all prepared to fight for their king. Even that fat man in red robes and light chains who seemed quite out of place, and very fond of flamboyantly gesturing around with his hands whenever he talked. The fat man happily talked with the Mormont, who tried his best to ignore the jolly man.


    "Quiet, you." Cedric snarked. "Once the horns blow we're charging as fast as we can. Try and capture a highborn, will you? One or two should earn us a ransom that could afford a small house in Lannisport."


    "Really?" Rod's eyes lit up even though Cedric was lying to him. It would take at least five highborn ransoms, not two. Still, he felt the boy could use some motivation at least. And besides, if it was a particularly valuable highborn it could work.


    "Yeah." Cedric turned his eyes forward. The fat man was staring at his cheap sword with a furrowed brow, when suddenly, the horns started to blow and the drummers pounded their instruments. Immediately, a loud cheer came from the van as they started to move. Slowly at first, with their shields high in the air to block any arrows or axes that had been thrown their way.


    The fat man simply charged, which caused a few others to break ranks, following him into the breach, including the Mormont.


    "Yahhh!" Cedric yelled, increasing his own speed as Rod followed closely behind. The fat man's sword was suddenly lit on fire, green flames radiating off of the blade. Well, that was something you didn't see everyday. "Ah fuck!"


    Cedric followed the flaming sword as it disappeared into the breach. The defenders still on the smashed open wall rained hell on them, hurling stone, axes, logs of wood and shooting arrows at them. "Keep that shield up Rod! I didn't spend thirty coppers on it just for you to not use it!"


    A sellsword to Cedric's right had their head bashed in by a falling stone, his steel helm doing little to protect him from a chunk of stone the size of his head. It spilled his Bravoosi brain juice all over the ground, nearly causing Cedric to slip. Why did he have to be such a smart guy?


    Cedric and Rod joined the other sellswords and Northern men-at-arms that poured into the breach. It was anarchy, with Ironborn soldiers using whatever they had at hand as a weapon, axes, scythes, hammers, spears, anything. One particularly fat ironborn who wasn't wearing any armor was lashing out with an oversized cleaver, and using a pot of all things to try to block any incoming blows. However, he was soon overwhelmed, being stabbed by a sellsword's spear from behind and then hacked to pieces by a few other soldiers in bear heraldry.


    Pyke itself was composed of three smaller islands with keeps perched atop them, with the current wall being assaulting guarding a stoneway that would lead to the Great Keep of Pyke, where the Seastone Chair sat. All they had to do was take this section. Simple, just take a keep that was full of bloodthirsty savages out to kill any Greenlander they saw.


    "Take out those archers!" The fat man boomed as he waved his flaming sword, causing several of the Ironborn, who wore black breastplates and pot helmets, to back away in fear. He had been the first through the breach, and his red robes were a shade darker.


    The Mormont beside him drove his sword, made out of dark steel with ripples, straight into the shoulder of a man in full plate armor, a golden kraken on his surcoat. The stuck man released a scream of pain before another strike to his throat separated his head from his body, silencing him.


    Cedric flinched at his yell, raising his shield almost instinctively and heard a thud not even a second later. He got lucky, but at least reinforcements were on their way. Men with the banners of a gray wolf, white falcon and black stag were pouring in behind them.


    "Let's go Rod!" Cedric yelled, giving his cousin a side glance. Rod parried a blow from a thrall in rags, and buried his sword in the thrall's unprotected armpit. "Good job, Coz! But highborn to ransom first, then we can get to killing."


    If they could capture a Greyjoy, their futures would be set, and songs would be sung about Ser Cedric Payne the Kraken Hunter! And Rod, his loyal squire he supposed. All of the highborns would be in the thickest of the fight to earn glory and win ransoms.


    "Aye." Rod narrowed his eyes, full of determination and likely still hungover from all the drinking the day before. Cedric didn't blame him, he'd woken up hungover as well this morning.


    With Rodrick by his side, Cedric raised his longsword high in the air and charged into the fray. A parry from a warrior in green with shoals of silver fish, a slash into the chain shirt of a raider in unmarked armor, the battle was full of chaos. Men fell around him, dead or dying, Ironborn and mainlanders alike.


    "For Lannisport!" A men-at-arm in Lannister colors yelled. Cedric grimaced. He needed his own yell as well, that's how stories were made. But what? House Payne wasn't really known for much save producing a good headsman, and he was mute in any event. And Cedric had forgotten the words of his own house.


    "Payne!" Rod yelled suddenly. He had his shield in the air just behind Cedric, blocking arrows and rocks. That was a good one! Simple, clearcut, easy to remember. His Cos was right, for once.


    "Payne!" Cedric yelled as well, slamming his sword onto a shield with a scythe. The makeshift shieldwall continued to push back and forth for a few minutes, when the Ironborn suddenly started to retreat slowly. Some of the more arrogant sellswords darted forward, but Cedric stayed with the main body. Ironborn didn't retreat, not unless they had something planned.


    "Payne!" Rod yelled into Cedric's ear, which was annoying. He was starting to lean against Cedric slightly, making his battered plate armor feel even heavier. Cedric shoved Rod back onto his feet, he was already tired.


    "Payne!" Cedric parted the head of a warrior who didn't wear a helmet. At that, the Ironborn turned and started to run towards the stoneway to the Great Keep of Pyke. The makeshift shieldwall cheered loudly as they started to advance slowly. "Come on Rod! We're almost there."


    "P-P-Pain-" Rod said weakly, causing Cedric to turn around. His eyes immediately widened under his great helm. A score of arrows were sticking out from his back, and Rod was spewing blood from his mouth onto his chain shirt. He had used his shield to guard Cedric's back.


    "Rod? Rod!" Cedric dropped his sword to catch his cousin, who fell forward. Already tired from the charge and the weight of his armor, Cedric fell along with his cousin. The duo fell onto the ground as Cedric's armor started to become slick with the blood of his cousin. "You should've covered your own back! Why would you do that?!"


    Rod stared at Cedric's helm with glassy eyes. "H-House in Lannisport, together."


    With that, Rod's head went slack, his strength gone, h-he was gone. Cedric's own body went limp as men-at-arms, sellswords and knights stepped over their bodies to continue the advance. Cedric yelled silently, too exhausted to move his dead cousin off of him. The efforts in the battle, coupled with the sheer drain of losing one of his few relatives in front of him, coupled with a sheer lack of leverage, had defeated him.


    The Knight of Payne's vision turned dark.


    A/N

    Welcome to the end of the Greyjoy arc. Don't worry, after this is a couple breather chapters, and then the start of a timeskip. Before long, we should be back at ASOIAF canon.
     
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    • 2-1
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    • Weiss​



    It took a fortnight for news to arrive from Pyke, announcing King Robert's victory over Balon Greyjoy, who was forced to bend the knee. Within a week of the raven's arrival, rumors and tall tales had started to spread amongst the smallfolk and the servants of the Gold Keep. Some said that Balon Greyjoy used the magic of the Drowned god and turned into a kraken before being defeated by King Robert and Lord Eddark Stark in legendary combat. Others said that Balon Greyjoy's sons were drowned in sacrifice, a last attempt at victory before being defeated in single combat by King Robert, who was gifted a hammer forged by the Smith himself before the final battle on Pyke. Those were likely embellished tales, others were much more believable. The most popular one revolved around Thoros of Myr, a Red priest of R'hllor, who had been the first to charge into the breach wielding a flaming sword and emerged at the end of the battle with nothing more than a bruise.


    Those rumors, even if they happened to be false or embellished, were interesting. Weiss had never heard of this R'hllor, but if he was able to protect one of his priests in combat and have them emerge only with bruises, could that be a way to find her friends? She had no idea if they were even in this world, but what if they were? If R'hllor truly helped Thoros in combat, would he be able to do more? Emerging from combat with only a few bruises despite wearing robes sounded like the presence of aura once it was nearly depleted. Weiss would have to find out more once she had time, and old enough to not be questioned by everyone for every tiny little thing. Of course she'd need to be careful, her reputation as being 'blessed by the Seven' meant she had to tread lightly around other religions.


    Thoros of Myr had not been the older fighter to gain fame. Lord Jorah Mormont of Bear Island was said to have been right behind him, wielding a Valyrian steel blade that had belonged to his family for centuries. That made Weiss a bit jealous. The Lannister Valyrian sword, Brightroar, had been lost for centuries before Aegon's Conquest, and all of the swords currently available to Weiss were boring and plain by comparison. Myrtenaster was lost to her, a part of her soul, and along with it went her small supply of Dust that Weiss had been using in the battle against Cinder. Weiss would have a replacement made once she was taller and not likely to be laughed at by the blacksmiths for Myrtenaster's strange designs. The design would have to be updated since Weiss didn't have any access to Dust. Unless Weiss could find or buy a Valyrian steel weapon, that would have to be her best option. Mind, if Tywin Lannister couldn't find anyone willing to sell their Valyrian sword, she doubted she'd have any better luck.


    "Are you paying attention to my lecture, Lady Weiss?" Septa Loria said, pulling the white haired girl out of her thoughts. With Maester Harmune busy sending ravens to all of the Seven Kingdoms for the tourney, the dour Septa stepped up to handle more of Weiss' lessons. The Hightowers, who had supplied more ships than the Redwynes, had already responded that they would attend, with Lord Leyton Hightower himself bringing several of his sons. Evidently trying to win one over their old rivals, who had been a bit embarrassed when news of the entire affair surfaced, and likely to support his goodson, Lord Stannis.


    "Of course." Weiss answered instantly, a polite smile on her face. Lannisport was home to one of the largest Motherhouses in Westeros, should she wish, Weiss was sure a quick complaint to her Mother would bring another septa to teach her beloved daughter, with the previous one assigned to some remote Motherhouse. Septa Loria knew as much, and tended to tread carefully around Weiss, usually. "We are discussing the reign of Baelor the Blessed, and how he saved his brother, Aemom the DragonKnight who was suspended above a pit filled with vipers."


    It was rather boring. The Septons claim that Baelor was not bitten by a single viper, yet the maesters say otherwise and that he was possibly bitten hundreds of times. Weiss would rather hear more rumors about the siege, and find someone she could use. King Robert had knighted at least a hundred men, and with the City Watch in need of new officers, Weiss could convince one or two with the promise of a generous reward in the future. The City Watch was filled with Father's and Lord Tywin's men, Weiss was going to some who were loyal only to her. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially as the future Lady of Lannisport, unless Mother gave birth to a son.


    That was very likely, Mother's stomach had grown since the attack on Lannisport, and not in the way that someone getting fat would. Mother tried her best to keep the news secret, yet Weiss would've figured it out anyways with all of the meetings she had been having with Maester Harmune. Before the year's end, Weiss would have a baby sister or baby brother. It made her nervous, not losing her inheritance, but being an older sibling and not failing them like she had Whitley. Was that how Winter felt when Weiss was born? She had been a child when Whitley was born, and didn't remember much from that time period. And once he had grown older, she hadn't exactly been the best of sisters to him. Mind, at least Winter had stayed in Atlas, she'd fled to another Kingdom altogether. No wonder he'd hated her when she returned.


    "Very good, Lady Weiss." Septa Loria frowned, which made Alis hide a silent giggle with her hand. She had managed to join their lesson today, so it wasn't just Weiss and Alysanne having to suffer through this. After class it would be time for her to head to the training yard to spar with the squires that had remained behind, or had arrived ahead of King Robert, who was still on Pyke ensuring the Iron Isles wouldn't rebel again, whether by threat of force or hostages. Most likely a combination of both.


    "Thank you." Weiss couldn't help but smirk, though she did so politely. Thanks to the memories from her past life, as well as being the product of a more advanced Kingdom, Weiss was smarter than a majority of the people here, if not all. Children her age wished they held the amount of knowledge that she had in her brain. Likely not, children her age didn't care about knowledge, only fun. Not that she ever had known what that was like, the first time she'd truly had friends was at Beacon.


    Weiss had never been a normal child, even when she bore the name Schnee.








    It took an entire month since King Robert's victory on Pyke for news to come that he would soon return to Lannisport, along with the entire Royal Host that had joined him for the war. Baratheon, Lannister, Arynn, Tully, Stark, Hightower, Mallister and Royce, some of the most powerful families in the realm would attend the tourney, and famous knights as well. Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Barristan were famed members of the Kingsguard, and Lord Eddard Stark was known for slaying the Sword of the Morning during Robert's Rebellion, considered the best living swordsman during their time.


    Weiss sincerely hoped that some of the knights would live up to their reputations, though she did doubt many of them would. There was a reason why people said it was a curse to meet their heroes, but that still made Weiss want to spar against one or two of such legendary fighters in a melee or the training yard. None of the squires were on her level, which was to be expected. She was a huntress, trained to fight monsters that would terrify Westeros if they appeared here since she was eight years old. It might've been a bit arrogant of her to assume she was on the same level as such fabled knights, but she was a Schnee and a Lannister, arrogance was in her blood.


    It took another week for King Robert to return once it was announced, with the Royal fleet assisted by Redwyne, Hightower and Mallister ships ferrying the levies from the Iron Isles back to Seagard or Lannisport. The majority of the levies would return home, to their fields and livelihoods, while their lords would make for Lannisport to participate in the tourney. Speaking of the tourney, the grounds were built just outside of Lannisport's walls, with an area for the melee, joust, and archery contests to take place. The tourney grounds were grand and impressive, and with the victor purses provided by Lord Tywin it wouldn't put too much of a dent in Father's treasury. The fact that all the guests would be spending money in Lannisport meant, if anything, Father would be turning a profit for this Tourney.


    The first major event of the tourney was the archery contest, which was rather boring in Weiss' opinion. She sat in the seats beside Royal Box, along with the other Lannisters and family members from the Rock. The Lannister box was elaborately decorated, with golden lions on the tapestry and even carved into their seats. Weiss sat beside Mother, who sat beside Lady Genna. Lord Tywin would be in the Royal Box, along with Lord Stark, Lord Stannis and whoever the King decided to invite.


    "Who do you believe will win, my Lady?" Mother asked Lady Genna. Six archers were out on the field to compete for a spot in the semi-finals. Weiss spotted the sigils of House Frey among them, with the rest bearing coat-of-arms that she didn't recognize. To be fair, she wasn't paying too much attention to it, more interested in listening to the conversations around her.


    "Not my husband, that much I can tell." Lady Genna said with a giggle. Ser Emmon and another Frey, a beast of a man that looked part Crakehall, were amongst those competing for the semi-finals. "It's a miracle that he even made it this far."


    The winners purse for the archery contest was five thousand dragons, with the joust and two melees having up to six times that. The first melee would have a bigger prize than the second. The second melee was Father's idea, with the winner receiving a large amount of gold dragons, and winning the position as Weiss' new sworn sword. Ser Robart would finally be able to rest, and work on his swordsmanship since he was far from the best fighter. Weiss hoped it wasn't going to be an idiot or a bigot.


    "Ser Emmon has proven himself to be skilled with a bow." Mother said humbly. Her stomach had started to swell, and was obviously with child despite her loose dress. So far, the rumors hadn't started to circulate past the maids, but that was only a matter of time. They were busy talking about the white haired girl of seven namedays who was beating squires twice her age and three times her size. Just thinking about it made Weiss want to smirk and laugh.


    "Bah, his brother Ser Hosteen is the better fighter." Lady Genna's green eyes stared at the gathered men, who prepared to shoot their arrows. Ser Hosteen Frey must've been the man that looked part Crakehall. Huh, she was expecting someone more akin to a weasel, not part boar. Wielding a longbow required plenty of strength, which Ser Hosteen seemed to have, unlike his brother.


    Weiss gently pulled on the sleeve of her Mother's dress, which was conservative by Westerland standards. It got Mother's attention, who turned her head to look down into Weiss' eyes. "Yes, Sweetling?"


    "Could I tour the grounds?" Weiss asked with a small smile. It was hard work, pretending to act like a child. Still, it did give her more freedom than if she was older. Oh, the paradox of age, the younger you were, the easier your misdeeds could be excused.


    Mother frowned, but nodded after a few seconds. "Of course, but be sure to return before the start of the jousts. And take Ser Robart and Septa Loria." Alis and Alysanne were busy with their families, leaving Weiss alone with her fellow Lannisters.


    "Thank you, Mother!" Weiss leaned upwards and pressed a soft kiss to her Mother's cheek. She would in fact, not be taking Septa Loria with her. Ser Robart would suffice, he was one of her Father's men, but he also knew better than to speak up against her. Also he wasn't a fan of the Septa anyway, so that was easily accomplished. She just needed to make sure the Septa was occupied elsewhere.


    That should be easy.









    The tourney grounds were colorful and bustling with people, squires, knights, wandering nobles such as herself, all jostling around, seeing the sights or doing errands. The air was filled with the sound of men yelling, promoting their wares or services as blacksmiths, while others yelled about placing wagers on who would win the various contests. It was all different, and felt strange, especially since the war was now over. Ser Robart followed a pace behind her, his hand on the pommel of his sword. Weiss wore a red dress with golden lions stitched onto it, it made her white hair and pale skin stand out even more. The crowd had given her considerable room, between her escort and her dress clearly showing she was a Lannister, though she was pretty sure some of the squires who saw her paled and backed away frantically.


    "Will you be participating in the melee, Ser Robart?" Weiss asked innocently, stopping at a merchant's table. The table was covered in ribbons that were decorated in flowers, obviously intended as tokens to give out for those who didn't have any. She lightly rubbed a thumb over the material. It was cheap material, but the embroidery was better than Weiss' own work. To be fair, Weiss's sewing training was more about sewing up wounds, vs embroidering, so she had more practice there. The peddler was a thin man with a silver beard, who was anxiously looking at them, debating if he was about to get lucky or not.


    "No, my Lady." Ser Robart admitted. "I fear I'm no Kingslayer or Barristan the Bold when it comes to skill at arms." Well, at least he was honest about his limitations. Could be worse.


    Weiss' eyes continued to scan the ribbons, not giving Ser Robart a second look. "Crossing swords with them would be an honor."


    "Aye, that it would." Ser Robart sighed. He was a middle aged man, with a balding head and a bushy brown mustache. The newly made knight wasn't exactly large, but neither was he the smallest of men.


    "I will ask my Father to keep you in my service, regardless of who wins the melee he arranged." Weiss' eyes paused at the sight of a white ribbon with a red rose embroidered in the center. It was a single flower, with thorns emerging from its stem. "Beautiful." She murmured.


    "Does it please my Lady?" The Peddler asked. He was nervous, and rightly so. A Lannister advertising his wares could make him, but if she was displeased, he would suffer.


    "It does." Weiss said softly. "How much?"


    "Five copper pennies, my Lady." The Peddler licked his lips. "My wife sews each one by hand."


    Hm, not a bad price. Another merchant would've charged her a silver stag since Weiss was a Lannister and could easily afford it. Such honesty would have to be rewarded. Maybe she could name drop him if anyone asked about it?


    "Ser Robart, a stag please." Weiss finally turned to her guard. He reached into his coin pouch and produced the coin, handing it to the merchant without a complaint.


    "M-My Lady, this is too much!" The Peddler tried to refuse, but Ser Robart forced the coin into his palm. He took it, his hands trembling, and slid it into his coin pouch.


    Weiss kept staring at the ribbon, which reminded her of life on Remnant. Happier, more stressful times. Back then it felt like the weight of the world was on Team RWBY's shoulders. "What's your name?"


    "Erac, my Lady." Erac the ribbon peddler answered. No doubt he was worried he was about to be peddling his ribbons in Dorne or some other dreadful locale.


    "I hope to buy more from you in the future, Erac." Weiss finally looked away from the ribbon and gave the man a small smile. "Your wife must have pretty hands."


    "You are very kind, my Lady." Erac bowed his head. He must've been used to dealing with nobles, since he spoke the common tongue clearly unlike most of his fellow smallfolk. With that Weiss walked away, carefully tying the ribbon around her wrist.


    Now she had to find people to recruit.








    Jacelyn Bywater​



    It felt strange, having a stump for a hand yet still being able to feel it. Jacelyn had lost his right hand a little over a month ago, during the Siege of Pyke, victim of a lucky Ironborn who had lost his head, so really, Jacelyn came out ahead in the trade. Still, despite the pain, the loss of his hand was worth the knightship that King Robert had personally bestowed upon him. House Bywater had a long lineage, though they had lost most of their influence after the death of Maegor the Cruel. King Jaehaerys reduced them to a simple knightly house, stripping them of their lordship. Now he was a knight that had to learn to fight with his left hand, with a house's reputation resting in the palm of his hand.


    Now he was forced to spar with squires and men-at-arms that would laugh at every loss. His tourney blade felt strange in his left hand, uncomfortable and foreign. Jacelyn circled a Frey soldier, their leather jerkin worn and patched. The Frey struck quickly, and Jacelyn was barely able to parry in time and return the favor with his own strike.


    "Too slow, OneHand!" The Frey taunted. Jacelyn continued his assault as the gathered squires and men-at-arms that spectated cheered for no one in particular. He pushed the Frey back with wild swings, forcing him back with the fury of a man who had everything to prove.


    Gritting his teeth, Jacelyn tightened his awkward grip on the sword, the yard filled with the noise of wood smacking against one another. The Frey lowered his sword at the wrong moment, giving Jacelyn his opening. A strong strike to his arm caused the Frey to welp like a weasel, and another to his chest sent him to the ground.


    "Yield." Ser Jacelyn raised his tourney blade to the Frey's small chin. He resisted the urge to imagine it was live steel. He didn't need to make another enemy.


    "I yield! I yield" The Frey raised his hands defensively.


    "Good." Jacelyn would have offered to help him up, but that would've been hard to do with only one hand. He moved to return the blunted steel to the weapon rack.


    "Impressive." A light voice said the moment Jacelyn placed the sword in its spot. It was soft, light, feminine and extremely young. He angled his head to look at the source of the voice, having to bend his head down a tad to notice it.


    It was a little girl with sapphire blue eyes and hair so light that it looked white. She wore a red dress with lion embroidery decorating the bodice. A bald man stood a few feet behind her, armed with a short sword, and wore a leather jerkin with the sigil of House Lannister sown onto his chest. A Lannister girl? Strange, most of them had blond hair and green eyes, not the Valyrian look.


    "Thank you." He huffed, stepping off of the training yard as a Piper squire stepped onto it, ready to face a Corbray.


    "You lost your hand recently." The Lannister spoke bluntly, a hit of arrogance etched onto her face. She wasn't asking a question, no, she was telling him as if the Lannister had been there when he lost it. "You're not used to fighting with your left."


    An arrogant child, wasn't she? Guess that answered the question if she was a Lannister, she had their trademark arrogance.


    "Aye." Ser Jacelyn turned his eyes away from her to watch the next match. He had heard rumors about a white haired girl from the other squires that had gathered. They claimed that she had been undefeated in the training yard, and was given permission to train with a sword by Lord Lannister himself.


    Those were just rumors.


    "You could've won that match in three moves, had you been using your right." The Lannister continued speaking, her eyes also focused on the Piper and Corbray. Her eyes, they didn't look like they belonged to a girl her age, they looked like they belonged to a knight that had seen countless years of combat.


    "So you say." Jacelyn said dryly.


    "Do you know who I am?" The Lannister girl asked. The knight with her remained silent, entertained by the Corbray bashing the Piper's shield.


    "A Lannister." Jacelyn tightened his jaw. He should be more respectful, the Lannisters were the ones hosting this tourney, yet the girl was annoying him. On top of being infamously vindictive, all of which meant he did not need another enemy to face.


    "I am Weiss Lannister, daughter of Dramen Lannisport, Lord of Lannisport." She declared with a smirk on her face. Lady Weiss certainly didn't talk or hold herself like a girl her age.


    "My apologies, my Lady." Jacelyn bowed his head slightly. What did she want with him? Shouldn't she be with her family, watching the contest and cheering for her favorites? "I am Ser Jacelyn of House Bywater."


    Lady Weiss finally turned to look at him, tearing her eyes away from the match. The Piper had turned the tide, and was punching the Corbray's face. "A pleasure to meet you, Ser Jacelyn."


    He nodded once more, and she continued speaking. "I'm sure you are wondering why I am here, speaking to a man such as yourself."


    "Aye." Was his only response. Probably the only sane response, come to think of it.


    The edge of Lady Weiss' lips turned upwards, into a grin that sent a shiver down Jacelyn's spine. She was no normal girl. "I have a proposition for you, Ser Jacelyn Bywater."


    Now that was interesting.


    A/N

    Welcome to the first chapter of the second arc! Timeskips will occur after the tourney, which should be one or two more chapters.


    Along with the timeskips should be a few more 'interludes' to show other changes made to the world.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Krieg Schnee said:
    The edge of Lady Weiss' lips turned upwards, into a grin that sent a shiver down Jacelyn's spine. She was no normal girl. "I have a proposition for you, Ser Jacelyn Bywater."

    Now that was interesting.
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    No, Weiss, you can't just go around propositioning people, it's not proper! Besides, I doubt your father would approve of Jacelyn as a suitor anyway... :p
     
    Krieg Schnee said:
    Those rumors, even if they happened to be false or embellished, were interesting. Weiss had never heard of this R'hllor, but if he was able to protect one of his priests in combat and have them emerge only with bruises, could that be a way to find her friends? She had no idea if they were even in this world, but what if they were? If R'hllor truly helped Thoros in combat, would he be able to do more? Emerging from combat with only a few bruises despite wearing robes sounded like the presence of aura once it was nearly depleted. Weiss would have to find out more once she had time, and old enough to not be questioned by everyone for every tiny little thing. Of course she'd need to be careful, her reputation as being 'blessed by the Seven' meant she had to tread lightly around other religions.
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    Yeahh....you don't want to get yourself involved with R'Hllor, Weiss.

    While its power is very real, always demands a high price to work. Anything related to Human sacrifice really.

    Magic being a Double edged sword Is very fitting to how it works in this setting, not like the Magic of Remnant that was...nothing special compared to the most special Semblances, and the Maidens we're glorified keys
     
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    • It was easier than Weiss expected to convince Ser Jacelyn to enter into her service. She had expected some pushback, or a laugh to her face after Weiss told him of her offer. It was a generous offer, especially for a recently crippled and newly risen knight such as himself. With the City Watch in desperate need of officers to replace their losses from the Sack, Weiss was confident that a man as capable as Ser Jacelyn would rise quickly through the ranks. Weiss had promised him her patronage, and the eventual promotion to Lord Commander of the Red Cloaks should he prove to be loyal and competent once she had power as Lady of Lannisport. As a sign of their deal, Weiss gifted him several gold dragons and left with the promise of arranging a blacksmith to fashion him an iron hand to replace the onr he lost. The plan only worked since Ser Jacelyn wasn't aware of Mother's pregnancy, since a little brother would slightly unravel Weiss' future plans. Weiss wasn't one to put all of her eggs in a single basket, so she had to come up with a backup plan should she gain a little brother


    Weiss had recruited five other knights, and left them with different promises to hopefully gain their loyalty. She had found them as she wandered the tourney grounds, watching, and silently judging them before she made her choice to take a risk on them. Every action she took could backfire on her, any of the men she had chosen could betray her, yet if they did, Weiss would be sure to repay them fourfold. A Lannister always paid their debts, yet that went both ways. Should they prove to be loyal, Weiss would ensure that the men she had recruited would be rewarded greatly and reach positions where they would benefit and support her.


    She returned to the Lannister box shortly before the start of the joust, just after the midday meal. The guards allowed her and Ser Robart to pass without a word, they knew who she was. Many of the Lannisport natives knew who she was, there weren't many Lannisters with Valyrian features, or many people with white hair this side of Westeros. The Crownlands would be full of those with similar hair and eyes, those with Targaryen, Velayron or Celtigar blood running through their veins.


    Whispers about the winner of the archery contest had already started to spread while she was gone. In the end, neither of the Frey's had won, the victor being some smallfolk archer from the Stormlands. She didn't care enough to remember the victor's name, odds are he was going to be returning home anyway, so not worth trying to hire him. Ser Robart remained with the guards as Weiss entered the box itself. Sliding past Ser Damion and Ser Stafford Lannister who were engrossed in dull conversations, Weiss made her way back to her seat beside Mother.


    "I have returned, Mother." Weiss said softly, bowing at the waist. Mother was still with Lady Genna, and was joined by a large woman that was wider than even Lord Tywin's beloved sister. Likely Lady Shiera Crakehall, Ser Damion's wife. Ser Damion's mother was a Lannister of Lannisport, Grandfather's younger sister.


    Mother turned and gave Weiss a kind smile. "Good, you have arrived just in time for the start of the joust. Did you have fun?"


    "Yes, Mother!" Weiss tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. She took her seat beside Mother, ensuring that her back was kept straight. The archery targets had been removed, leaving only the jousting divider. She was a bit intrigued by jousting, she'd heard about it in her past life, but never really seen it before.


    The joust was the main event of every tourney, with the winners able to claim fame and glory should they perform well. It would be hard, but with fame and a large amount of dragons on the line, many would risk their lives to win. With famed knights such as Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan the Bold and Bronze Yohn Royce, the competition would be fierce. Soon, the announcer's trumpets started to blow, and a horde of armored men on horses bearing banners rode out onto the field.


    Lannister, Frey, Hightower, Mallister's white and purple eagle, the Whent's sigil covered in bats, and countless other houses sent their sons and lords to represent them. Cousin Daven Lannister would be representing the main Lannister branch, since Ser Jaime being of the Kingsguard meant that any of his victories would be for King Robert. He looked elegant and beautiful in his golden armor, his helmet designed to look like a roaring lion, and with Ser Boros Blount in white, they looked like the knights of the stories that Alysanne and Alis loved to hear about. All Ser Boros needed to do was keep his helmet on to hide his ugly face, and maybe not speak.


    The finals of the joust would be held on the morrow, since it would take hours for all of the riders to finish competing. The first melee would be shortly after that, with close to fifty men competing to win glory and dragons. Yet, Weiss was more concerned with the second melee, which was to be held on the last day of the tourney.


    "Get on already before I piss myself!" Weiss heard King Robert boomed from the box beside the Lannisters. Laughter erupted from the men and women that joined him there. Classy.


    The majority of the gathered knights and few Northmen rode off of the jousting grounds after a short parade around the lot, gathering favors from ladies. Thankfully, no one had the gall to ask Weiss, not so soon after the death of her betrothed. Plus, she was a bit too young, one of the few times she was grateful.


    The first lancer was a Northern Lord, a poor one with armor that was battered and rusted, with discolored patches showing at a distance, against Lord Jason Mallister who wore full plate upon a beautiful destrier. The Northerner's shield was recently painted, a black bear dancing in green woods. Weiss narrowed her eyes as both men trotted to their start positions.


    "Pardon me for the intrusion." A familiar voice said, causing Weiss and the other Lannisters to turn their head. It was a large boy, with straight blond hair and bright blue eyes. His fine and expensive doublet with three spirals of green, red and blue. The Massey squire Weiss had fought at King Robert's command?


    "What is it, boy?" Ser Stafford, who was the closest to the Squire, said with a tone of annoyance. Not that she could blame him, interrupting a display like this was most unusual.


    "His Grace, King Robert, has invited the lady Weiss Lannister and her mother, Lady Ceria Lannister to join him in the Royal Box." Justin Massey said awkwardly. That immediately caused whispering amongst their cousins and distant family members.


    Now that was interesting. What did King Robert want? Hopefully he wasn't expecting her to joust.








    Jorah Mormont and Jason Mallister had already broken a lance by the time Weiss and Mother entered the Royal box. Several lords and ladies were present, including several Hightowers, Lord Stannis, Lord Tywin, and a man with a long face who sat to King Robert's right. With long brown hair, closely trimmed beard, and gray eyes, he must've been Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He was younger than Weiss had expected, but those eyes remind her of Ruby, oddly enough. That shade wasn't silver, not by far, but it was close to it, enough she could guess what it would be like.


    "Your Grace." Mother bowed before their King. Weiss followed her example. Lord Tywin sat to King Robert's left, his eyes uninterested in watching their King grope and fondle some serving lady. Instead, his eyes were fixated on the joust.


    "More Lannisters." King Robert's face was red. Ser Barristan stood behind him, clad in the white armor of the Kingsguard, forgoing his helmet. "But at least these ones I like." He burst out laughing accompanied by some of the sycophants in the box.


    Out of the corner of her eyes, Weiss spotted Lord Stannis and Lord Eddard form a matching grimace. King Robert didn't seem to care that he was shaming his wife in front of his goodfather. She swore she could hear someone's teeth grinding, but she wasn't able to figure out where.


    "Your Grace." Lord Eddard started speaking, likely to reprimand his friend. He didn't pay Weiss and her Mother any attention aside from a curt nod. Weiss was unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, given the situation.


    "Take a seat, enjoy the rest of the joust." King Robert ignored him. "One day I hope to see you competing." He looked at Weiss with a large grin. She resisted the urge to shudder, visibly.


    "As you command, your Grace." Weiss said, hiding her smirk with a polite and childlike smile. If their king gave her permission to compete once she was older, then no other lord could say otherwise.


    They took their seats beside the Hightower women, introducing themselves with ladylike smiles that hid their true thoughts. Weiss sat next to a pretty, older girl with golden hair and skin the color of cream. Weiss was still the paler of the two. The Hightower girl appeared nervous, flinching when Lord Jason Mallister's lance struck the Mormont's shield. Yet, the Mormont's lance struck true, and knocked the Lord of Seagard to the ground.


    The Hightower girl cheered as the Mormont gave a victory parade around the yard. A silver ribbon was wrapped around his bicep, one of the colors of House Hightower. He stared in their direction, taking off his full-helm. Ser Jorah Mormont was old, at least twice the age of the Hightower girl he stared at, yet she returned it with a loving gaze.


    Lynesse Hightower looked like a lovesick puppy. Weiss remained silent, allowing the two to have their moment. Lady Lynesse wasn't her friend, even if Weiss thought the match would never work. Ignoring the sheer age difference, they were from two entirely different kingdoms, and from his appearance, he wasn't very rich, while she was. Contrary to how stories had put it, going from wealthy to being poor wasn't a fun experience, she could attest.


    Weiss pushed the thoughts of the two lovebirds, or was it lovebears, away. Cousin Daven would be jousting next, against some random knight with a quartered sigil, with a silver axe on green and a gyronny of black and white. Cousin Daven wore fine red Lannister armor with a full-helm that looked more useful for fighting than most of the armors here. He had just won his knightship during the Siege of Pyke.


    Ruby would have enjoyed watching this.


    A/N

    This chapter was shorter than I had expected, but it turned out to be necessary to keep the pacing. The next chapter should be the last of the tourney arc before we begin our timeskips, starting from a few months at a time to years. And the interlude chapters from around the world.


    It's going to be a lot of fun.
     
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