Game of Thrones: Dance of Ice and Fire

Serian I - The Lion's Twin

Sounds of steel clashing filled the whole yard as prince Serian Baratheon practiced with the other knights. His golden hair clung to his forehead, soaked with sweat. He had been training the whole morning. Serian did it every day. Ever since his uncle Jaime started taking him to the training yard.

Serian snorted angrily. They took his uncle. But it was Joffrey's fault. He started a stupid war by killing Ned Stark! So of course the Starks would act and go for revenge.

The young prince swirled around to avoid a blow from his fellow knight. Blocking and parrying his attacks Serian stepped forward into the knoghts range and he managed to hold the sword against the knights neck.

Serian stopped a slight smirk forming on his lips.

"I won again." He let go of the knight, a young man with curly black hair and a stubbled beard around his throat.

"You're fine soldier, my prince. Jaime trained you well."

"Aye, but you're not too bad yourself. Try to move a bit more. You're too slow on your feet. But your sword hand is fine."

"Yes, thank you, my prince."

Sir Trystan bowed and stepped away to go fulfill his other duties.

Clapping hands caught Serians attention. He turned his head and smiled as he saw no other than his second uncle, Lord Tyrion Lannister.

"Not bad nephew. I see you turned into a skilled warrior. I bet Joffrey is delighted to know his brother can defend him."

Serian huffed at the mention of his brother.

"Do I smell trouble?"

"You know Joffrey. Don't need to say more do I?"

"Guess not."

"You look well uncle. I feared you got lost."

Tyrion chuckled as he pat his nephew on the arm in a greeting manner.

"I don't get lost easily. I bet my sister would have loved that though."

"It's good to see you, uncle."

"Likewise. So where's your brother playing around right now? Where's Cersei?"

"Mother is with the small council. As for Joffrey he is probably in the throne room."

"Then we shall keep them company, don't you think? Come, there's a lot of work to do."

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The grand throne room of the Red Keep was adorned with opulence, a testament to the power and wealth of House Lannister. King Joffrey Baratheon, his youthful arrogance on full display, stood before the Iron Throne, flanked by members of the Kingsguard. Sansa Stark, the once-betrothed to Joffrey, was brought before the court as a captive, her fate uncertain.

Joffrey's eyes gleamed with a malicious glint as he eyed Sansa, a helpless pawn in his sadistic game. His exquisite crossbow pointed at the young girl.

"Come forward, Sansa," he commanded, his tone dripping with cruelty. "Kneel before your king and beg for my mercy."

Sansa's breath caught in her throat, but she knew better than to defy her captor. Trembling, she knelt before Joffrey, her eyes filled with fear and humiliation.

Just as Joffrey was about to unleash another torment upon Sansa, the doors of the throne room swung open, and two figures strode in with an air of authority and intrigue.