Our return to the Red Keep had been... awkward.
Certainly, the outright fear that Jeyne now showed at my identity was unhelpful, but I was more annoyed with the perpetual surliness of Black Walder.
Jonos Bracken thankfully, was in a world of his own.
"So," said the Frey with a not-quite growl as he glared at me and Jeyne Poole after we were seen to the Red Keep "Might I have an answer now?"
"No," I said casually enough "You might not."
"Bolton-"
"Mind your elders, Walder. And your manners. We will speak on the morrow. See the Lord Bracken to his quarters, and then see yourself to your own."
Growling impotently, he did as told, storming off with Bracken around his shoulders.
As he left, I turned with a sigh to the scared young girl besides me.
"Lady Poole?"
"I- I - Lord Bolton, that is-"
"You'll be sharing my rooms for the night. Unless I should be remanded down to the Black Cells on the morrow, I will take you to see Sansa then. Is that permissible?"
"I- yes, lord."
"Good. Then let's be away. I find myself in need of a good week's worth of sleep."
--
I would sleep poorly that night.
I had graciously elected to give up my bed to Jeyne Poole, commandeering a pair of chairs in my room along with a pillow and blanket to improvise a bed. I'd slept rougher than that before, from cold floors to the great outdoors. It was a varied experience to be sure, but at heart I was a man best rested when availed three blankets and six pillows and a queen's bed to myself.
Still, I hadn't woken up in the Black Cells again with rats for company and mossy stones for a mattress, so that was a big plus.
But otherwise, I was fairly grumpy, a fact which did not escape my roommate's notice.
She'd even tried to apologize for it, but I waved her off at the pass.
Wasn't like it mattered much, in the long run, and we both had better things to do and think about.
So as soon as we both awoke and readied ourselves (Jeyne having not had any clothes to change into had reluctantly claimed some of those made available to me), we left my quarters and set off.
We went first to the kitchens, where I took some bread, cheeses and fruits for the both of us, as well as some hard-boiled eggs and sausages one of the cooks had made for his own breakfast. He'd protested at first, but I'd had a dragon or two still left to me from Cersei's graciously given purse, and I'd given him one for the food.
Greatly overpaying, but I was hungry and fuck him I got mine.
Finding an alcove to sit briefly and eat our expensively-gotten food, Jeyne and I did so in near-silence, with only the occasional cough or grunt interspersed.
"Once we finish eating," I said between mouthfuls of fruit "We will go to the gardens and call upon Sansa. I have need to sort matters with Black Walder, and will leave you two alone for a time. Have a care, and remain within eyesight. Petyr Baelish does not lack for friends."
"Yes, lord."
And so we sat, eating what accounted for our breakfast.
--
"Lady Sansa," I said with a polite nod as I gently led Jeyne besides me "I believe you both know each other?"
The crying and hugging that ensued would answer that rhetorical question well enough, and gave me leave to step away and see to my other matter of the day.
Black Walder.
"So..." said the Frey knight with a grunt "Are you going to explain?"
"The girl's name is Jeyne Poole," I said with a shrug "Her father's name was Vayon Poole, and he was Lord Stark's steward both at Winterfell and here. Jeyne was a childhood companion of Sansa, and knew the Starks well. The Queen Regent had given her over to Petyr Baelish, who sought to make a whore of her. Now Roose Bolton, after being prevailed upon by her childhood friend Sansa Stark, has plumbed the depths of King's Landing, scoured the city's filthiest quarters, and rescued this wayward Northern maiden."
"With the Queen's blessings, I should hope?"
"Where did you think the coin purse came from?"
"Fair enough. Dangerous though, dealing with Baelish. Lowborn lot like him don't rise so high without being dangerous."
"No, they rise high by playing on the infatuations of madwoman."
"Eh?"
"A tale for another time, Walder. Suffice it to say that I am not without knowledge."
"Still. The Queen can't intervene for us here, if Baelish presses the matter. Unless she explains the scheme in full, which suits us little to have another involved."
"Ware yourself, and pray for otherwise then."
"I was never a godly man Bolton, and I shan't start now. So what's to be done with the girl, then? While we remain at King's Landing?"
"I had a thought to give her to Sansa Stark as a maid, to keep them both together."
"But?"
"The Stark girl is never far from His Grace, and I fear that he may yet remember the Poole girl. It might prove more prudent to keep her close to me."
"I suppose she'll keep you warm at night, heh."
"I am a married man, Frey."
"Tell that to the whores you paid for yesterday."
"I did, more strenously to some than others. It might have escaped your notice, but I neither dipped my wick nor quenched my thirst. I was as sober when we came back to the Red Keep as we left, and as ... unsatisfied as well."
"Bolton, we went to half a dozen whorehouses yesterday, not counting Baelish's-"
"They were all Baelish's, actually."
"Doesn't matter. I saw you pay for at least three whores."
"Yes. I had a rather enjoyable string of naps in the rooms. The whores enjoyed the free wine and a chance to rest their weary cunts."
"... You're a strange man, Roose Bolton."
"Morals can be a strange thing, my friend. A strange thing indeed."
--
And so our talks went, as we discussed what little news either of us had to share. By virtue of my long stay in the Black Cells, Black Walder had certainly the greater share.
"Renly Baratheon's already dead," he confided with a little chortle "The fool pillow-biter rode to Storm's End to face his brother with twenty thousand horse, and lost his head and crown for it. Stannis Baratheon holds Storm's End now, and is said to be raising an army in the Stormlands. Ravens have flown across half of Westeros, and he calls upon all good men to make their allegiances known."
"He shall find Westeros bereft of good men, I fear. How did Renly die, pray tell? Is it known?"
"In battle, of course. The fool charged headlong with all his might, and damn well broke it against his brother's defenses. Loras Tyrell is said to be dead as well, and half a hundred knights and lords of the Reach are now hostages at Storm's End. Those who followed Renly from the Stormlands have given their allegiances to Stannis, and the matter has left the great army at Bitterbridge divided. The Stormlords there have split aside from the main camp it is said, and arguments of all sorts have raged between Mace Tyrell and his banners. Some wish to bend the knee to Stannis, while others think it prudent to return to Joffrey."
Battle? What the bloody-
The changes are beginning to ripple.
"I imagine the Florents lead the first camp?"
"I wouldn't be surprised. Stannis's wife is a Florent and his daughter as well, and Robert's bastard at Storm's End was a Florent as well. There's been some talk that Stannis might legitimize the boy and betroth him to Shireen, to strengthen his claim as Robert's heir."
"Dangerous talk, that. There would be those who rather a boy king, especially one of Robert's blood."
"Lucky for us that we already have him," said Black Walder with a laugh "Seated atop the Iron Throne, as well."
"Indeed," I said, with a thin-lipped smile following after "But that boy king's war does not go well, I hear. Kevan Lannister does not offer battle to Robb Stark."
"He's trapped in between him at Harrenhal and what's left of our own army at Raventree. Tytos Blackwood has been recruiting and training more men from the refugees fleeing the southern half of the Riverlands, and Robb Stark sends missives to the knights of the Vale to ride to his side. His lady aunt does no such thing, but there's been some small aid come overland across the Ruby Ford. Some second or third sons, of families long since known to the Starks. Not many it is true, but enough that with Lord Stannis's ships in the Bay of Claws, the King has all but decried them as traitors."
"We sit astride a dangerous fence, then."
"The war is not yet decided. Baelish is at Bitterbridge to entice the Reachlords towards a Lannister pardon, and I suspect the King will set aside the Stark girl for a Tyrell one if that is so. Margaery Tyrell is a widow now, after all."
"The Martells might yet rise for Stannis," I offered lamely "Considering his temperament and the severity he would seek to visit upon the Lannisters."
"Dorne would be best served to sit and watch us all kill one another," came Black Walder's reply as he spat at the ground at the thought "Watch us die, and only then make their intentions known. The same goes for the Ironborn."
"I fear Balon Greyjoy is a far less patient man than Doran Martell. Whatever he intends, we will know sooner rather than later."
--
