Game of Thrones: The Stag's Storm

The Queen shouted, "Your bastard son and that wild girl attacked my son together! Your daughter threw stones at him and tried to set her wolf on him!"

"He has a name. My son is called Jon," Eddard roared. "Please show him some respect."

"Hmph. A bastard is a bastard, Lord Eddard," the Queen repeated scornfully.

"That's not what happened!" Arya cried. "My wolf didn't bite anyone! Joffrey hurt my brother, and my stone only hit the horse! And that was because Joffrey bullied Jon first!"

"Joffrey has already told us everything," the Queen said. "You and your bastard beat him with sticks and set your wolf on him."

"That's not what happened." Arya was on the verge of tears again, and Eddard hurriedly reached out to pat her shoulder.

"That's exactly what happened!" Prince Joffrey insisted. "They ganged up on me! That bastard took my sword, and the wild girl tried to set her wolf on me!"

Eddard noticed that he would not look Arya or Jon in the eye as he spoke. Perhaps it was a sign of a guilty conscience.

"You're lying!" Arya screamed.

"Shut up!" the prince shouted back.

"Enough!" the King roared, rising from his chair, his voice thick with irritation. Silence fell at once. Bristling with anger, he glared at Mycah and Arya. "Children, tell me what happened. All of it, exactly as it happened, and tell me honestly. Remember, lying to the King is a grave crime."

Then the King turned to his son. "You'll have your turn once they're finished. Until then, keep your mouth shut."

Mycah began his account in a stammer, and the King's expression grew darker and darker. But Barristan and Renly watched Jon. The boy had thought things through carefully. After all, the butcher's boy did not have the Hand of the King for a father. Jon had saved his life.

When Arya began her account, everyone listened closely. She told the story in greater detail than Jon had, even describing how Joffrey had called for his mother in fear.

Renly Baratheon burst out laughing, while the King flew into a rage. "Ser Barristan Selmy, please escort my brother out before he chokes on his laughter."

Lord Renly stopped laughing. "How thoughtful of you, brother. I can find my own way."

Renly bowed to Joffrey. "Perhaps later you can tell me how someone knocked your weapon away with a broomstick and made you cry for your mother." As the door closed, Eddard heard him add, "Some 'Lion's Tooth.'" Then he burst out laughing again.

Joffrey then gave a wildly different account, his face very pale.

"Enough!" The King rose heavily, having grasped the general picture. "Joffrey has one version, and Arya has another. Let's leave it at that. I'll send a maester to see to Jon's wounds."

"That will not do," Cersei said relentlessly.

Ser Jaime stepped forward and exchanged a few words with his sister, but the Queen's expression remained hostile.

"There was someone else there." The Queen pointed at Sansa.

"Enough, woman! Do you want to disgrace us completely?" Robert roared, his face livid, making everyone jump.

Sansa felt as though she had been granted a pardon, relieved that she need not face such an embarrassing scene. She wore a blue velvet dress embroidered with white edging and a silver chain around her neck. Her thick auburn hair had been brushed until it shone. She blinked at her sister and Jon, then looked at the prince.

"Thank you, Your Grace. It all happened so quickly. I don't remember. I only saw Jon and Joffrey facing each other." Sansa pretended she had forgotten.

"Forgotten?" The King considered that. "Then it's just as well. All of you, forget this ever happened. You, and Joffrey, Jon, and Arya."

"You little bitch!" Arya screamed. She flew at her sister like an arrow, knocked Sansa onto the floor, and punched and kicked her furiously. "Liar, liar, liar, liar!"

"Arya, stop!" Jon shouted hastily. Even as he and Jory pulled her off her sister, her feet kept kicking.

Eddard came over and helped Sansa up. She was pale and trembling. "Are you hurt?" he asked. But she merely stared blankly at Arya, as though she had not heard him.

"What now?" the King asked, his brow furrowed.

"The girl is as wild as that filthy beast of hers," Cersei Lannister said. "Robert, she and that bastard must be punished."

"Your son slashed Jon's face and disfigured him, Your Grace. He nearly ruined his sword arm as well." Eddard could no longer contain himself and glared angrily at Cersei.

"Seven Hells, give your King some peace!" Robert groaned. "What do you want me to do? Drag Arya outside, give her a few lashes, and parade her through the streets? Or make Joffrey bow his head and kneel before you? It was a fight between children. It's over now."

The Queen wanted to argue further, but Ser Jaime stopped her.

Eddard said nothing. He turned to look at Jon's wounds in what seemed a silent protest.

"Have Joffrey apologize to the boy!" Robert looked at Cersei, but she ignored him. "I'll find him the best physician and give him all the Gold Dragons he needs, but don't expect Joffrey to bow to that bastard. How about three hundred Gold Dragons? That's the ransom for a noble knight."

"Gold, gold, always gold." Robert sighed. "Look what you've turned Joffrey into."

Robert walked over to Jon and patted his uninjured shoulder. "Good lad. You've got some mettle. Once you're well, you can hunt with me. My son behaved outrageously. I'm truly sorry."

Robert looked at his eldest son again. "Idiot. Next time you make such a disgrace of yourself, don't call for me. Eddard, discipline your daughter and son properly. I'll do the same with mine."

After hearing the rebuke, Joffrey stared venomously at the Starks. Jon realized he had not imagined it.

"Gladly, Your Grace." Eddard felt a weight lift from him.

Robert was about to leave, but the Queen still refused to let the matter rest.

"And what about the wolf?" she called after him. "What will you do with the beast that threatened your son?"

Arya stiffened at once, though Nymeria was already far away.

"Shut your mouth, woman! Your son hasn't been disfigured. Eddard's son has!" Robert roared. "This matter is closed."

"You, butcher's boy. Stop following the cooks around. You'll serve this young lord Jon instead," the King said on a whim.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Jon and Mycah both said. A bastard's attendants never came from great houses.

"Hmph. Lord Eddard, you'd best keep a close watch on your direwolves," Cersei said resentfully. "A wolf pelt is worth a great many Gold Dragons, after all."

Jon kept his mouth shut. He had long known it would end this way, but at least the outcome was tolerable.

Chapter 111: Lies and Sincerity

Darry and its surrounding lands were plain and modest, lying south of the Trident, only half a day's ride from the river. Darry owed allegiance to House Trout, but like Maidenpool, it had once fought to the death for the True Dragon.

The royal procession arrived uninvited at Darry's castle and became the guests of its lord, Ser Raymun Darry. Queen Cersei still wanted to search along the river for the young wolf Nymeria and give Joffrey her pelt, but King Robert fiercely scolded her again. When it was time to forget something, she should forget it and stop making trouble.

Cersei had now begun quarreling with Jaime as well, because he did not love his "family" and had failed to step forward and duel the Starks. For a time, the castle was filled with turmoil.

Though Ser Raymond had sworn fealty to the King, House Darry had been one of the great houses that fought for Rhaegar beneath his True Dragon banners at the Trident. All three of his elder brothers had died there, and neither Robert nor Ser Raymond had forgotten it. Now the King's retinue, Darry's men, and the Lannister and Stark forces were all crammed into the small castle. The tension was easy to imagine.

What made the atmosphere even more tense was the earlier fight between the lion and direwolf children, which had reignited the conflict between Stark and Lannister.

Perhaps bringing a hundred guards was a mistake. I should have brought more soldiers, Eddard thought in Darry's upper chambers. The Lannister Red Cloaks inside the castle were painfully conspicuous. In King's Landing, he feared he would be walking straight into the Lannister lion's jaws.

Jaime Lannister looked up and met Eddard's gaze from below, amusement in his eyes. Jaime wore a white cloak too, but he glittered with gold from head to toe, with a Lion Helm on his head and a Golden Sword at his side. The two men were certainly not friends, but Jaime was in no mood to spar with Eddard now. He thought Jon had something of a knight about him.

Darry is the dangerous enemy, Jaime thought. Though he had no intention of saying it aloud, he would have to pay closer attention.

Tyrion had told him that these traitors still yearned for the Targaryens. Hidden enemies were far more dangerous than those Stark fools. When Robert traveled north to visit, Tyrion had discovered that tapestries depicting the successive rulers of the Targaryen Dynasty had been taken down and hidden in the castle's cellars.

Am I a fool? Remembering Cersei's angry face and Jaime's amused expression, Eddard sighed. He thought of his ancestor Cregan's journey south. Sometimes swords and spears brought justice, while he himself put too much faith in fairness. Stannis no longer wrote to him either, for the green lands were riddled with the Spider's informants.

Eddard had indeed wanted to save money. Winter was coming, and there was no need to take so many men to King's Landing. More importantly, the Stark standing army was not that large, and assembling the full force would take time. Bran's injury had disrupted his arrangements as well. He had not yet properly studied Cregan's preparations.

After some thought, Eddard went to Jon's room upstairs. It was a secluded, simple bedchamber, but unlike ordinary knights, Jon did not have to sleep out in the open. At least he was being treated as a noble.

"Son, perhaps I owe you an apology. This isn't Winterfell, after all. I can't do more to secure justice for you." Eddard looked at Jon's face, troubled by the arguments and compromises. The sword tip had left a cut that would scar even after it healed.

"It's all right, my lord," Jon said, trying to sound relaxed. Thick bandages still covered his shoulder, where the wound had yet to heal. But he felt fortunate that his sword arm and hand had escaped injury.

As for the scar on his face, it was neither very long nor very deep. Besides, Jon was lean, with a long face, brown hair, and gray eyes. He was only a superfluous bastard, and he was not particularly handsome anyway. He could not live off his looks, nor did he need to make a marriage alliance.

"I think we still need these." Jon pointed out the Gold Dragons on his bed to Eddard. Six hundred Gold Dragons glittered there, the Queen's display of generosity. "The Lannisters sent them. I haven't spent a single one."

"I do need them, but a lord has no need to keep a child's playthings. Keep them, son." Eddard smiled. "Damn the Lannisters. They certainly are generous."

This gold will be more useful than anything in King's Landing, Jon thought. He decided to keep it safe for his father.

"My lord, you must be careful of them. Their people are everywhere," Jon reminded him quietly. A bastard had to learn to read expressions and discern the emotions hidden in people's eyes.

Between the Royalists and the Queen's Men, the Lannisters' influence at court and their soldiers far exceeded the Starks'. Now the conflict had escalated, while Robert, his father's closest friend, did nothing but compromise and indulge in wine and women.

Eddard looked at Jon. It seemed bastards truly did mature early, as people said. Jon surpassed Robb in caution and sensitivity. Eddard could not help worrying about the children at Winterfell again.

"We've come to the wrong place. King's Landing will be more troublesome still," Eddard told Jon. "You must learn to protect yourself."

Jon nodded. "I'll protect myself, and Sansa and Arya too."

"Arya. That child never gives me a moment's peace. And Sansa... ah." Eddard sighed. Arya was wild, but Sansa was worse.

Catelyn had taken the lead in giving the children a southern-style upbringing, and Eddard had supported it at first. He rarely interfered in domestic matters. Yet now Sansa was lost in a dream of becoming the crown prince's bride. They were northerners, after all. Family, honor, unity. Eddard thought a northern wife might not have raised the children this way.

"My lord, you must be careful. Watch out for traitors. King's Landing is a city of half a million people. Its people care only for gold, and southerners are very good at lying," Jon said anxiously.

"Traitors. Lies." Eddard mulled over the two words. If only traitors had their treachery written on their faces. Had Lord Arryn died at a traitor's hands? Lies? Everyone had lies of their own.

Just then, Jon's door was pushed open with a bang, and Arya ran in, her eyes red and swollen.

"Father, you're here too," Arya said.

"What's wrong, child? I came to see your brother." Eddard rubbed Arya's head.

"What is that?" Eddard asked in surprise. He had spotted the sword in Arya's hand.

"Give it to me." Arya reluctantly handed over the sword, wondering whether she would ever get to hold it again.

Eddard turned it over in the light, inspecting both sides of the blade, then tested its sharpness with his thumb. "This is a killer's sword," he said. "But I think I recognize the maker's mark. Mikken forged this."

"I gave it to her, my lord." Jon had a sinking feeling and hurriedly stood. "Arya, you shouldn't have brought it. This isn't a child's toy."

"I hate them. Father, why won't you avenge my brother?" Arya said through gritted teeth.

"Who?" Eddard asked.

"Stupid Joffrey, and his mother with her nose in the air. And Sansa. Sansa's a traitor."

"Enough. Vengeance is not a word for a lady." Her father's tone was stern and firm. "You never listen to your septa's lessons. The gods know how much misery you've put that poor woman through. Your mother and I hired her to teach you to be a lady, but it's an impossible task."

"I don't want to be a lady!" Arya snapped. "I want to take up a sword and beat that idiot!"

"I ought to break this thing across my knee right now and put an end to this farce."

"My lord, please don't punish my little sister," Jon said, standing. He was partly to blame for not telling Eddard beforehand.

"Needle won't break," Arya said defiantly, though she knew she sounded uncertain.

Eddard sighed. "Ah, Arya, my child. There's a special wildness in you. Your grandfather called it 'wolf blood.' Lyanna had a little of it, and my brother Brandon had more. Both died young."

Jon and Arya heard the sorrow in his voice. Eddard rarely spoke of his father or siblings. They had all died before the children were born. "If your grandfather had allowed it, Lyanna would probably have wielded a sword herself. Sometimes you remind me of her. You even look a little like her."

"Lyanna was beautiful," Arya said, startled. Everyone said so, but no one had ever used that word to describe Arya.

"Wasn't she?" Eddard agreed. "Beautiful and willful, and she died before her time."

"Don't be too willful, my child. This isn't Winterfell."

Jon remained silent. No one had ever called him handsome or good-looking, but everyone said he had the "Stark" look. His aunt Lyanna, that breathtaking beauty, had perhaps shared House Stark's features with him, yet been lovely all the same. As for wolf blood, Jon felt a bastard could not afford to be so wild.