[King's Landing Shoreline]
Bronn appeared, carrying some swords. He joined Jaime, who sat by the shore as his niece stood beside him.
"My brother tells me you can keep your mouth shut. Unusual talent for a sellsword."
"He tells me you shit gold just like your father." Bronn replied, before looking to Aelinor. "What are you doing here Princess?"
She looked to her uncle who avoided her eyes. "I am here to train. Surely my uncle told you."
"No. No, he didn't."
"Is this place safe?" Jaime asked, avoiding Aelinor's gaze, as he tossed a pouch of gold to Bronn.
"There's this knight, Leygood, got thunderbolts on his shield."
"Uh-huh."
"Right here is where I fuck his wife. She's a screamer, that one. If they don't hear her, they won't hear us. Bronn pocketed the gold.
Jaime grabbed his sword, and spun his wrist to warm it. BRONN whistles in admiration.
"I've nevr seen Valyrian steel before. She's a beauty. The problem is, if you fight with an edged blade, I'll have to." Bronn held up two sparring swords. "And if I fight with an edged blade, I'll have no one left to pay me."
He dropped one to the ground, clattering, and continues to walk forward.
"I haven't used a sparring sword since I was nine."
Jaime walks to the sparring sword, indignant. He reaches for it, but BRONN slaps his hand with his sword, just as he grabs it.
"Ah! Bold warrior you are, attacking a man when his guard's down."
"Best time to attack a man."
Aelinor watched as Bronn swung at her uncle, who parried clumsily. Bronn pushed him, and Jaime faltered to the wall.
"Mind yourself."
"If I still had my right hand..."
"Plan on growing it back?"
They engaged in swordplay, Jaime parrying defensively, but well. However, Bronn knocked him off balance again and caused him to stumble with a forearm nudge. Jaime quickly recovered and faced him.
Panting, he reset his stance. "Come on, then."
Jaime made yet another awkward attack, and they continued until Jaime grew exhausted.
"My turn," Aelinor said, standing up and grabbing a sword.
Waiting for him to strike, she noticed he was doing the same.
She allowed him to advance first, deflecting his attacks, before swatting at his sword, nearly causing Bronn to lose his grip.
He smirked before advancing again, pushing her back. It worked momentarily before Aelinor turned the tables, forcing him on the defense.
Returning to offense, Bronn made a series of attacks, the last forcing Aelinor into a spin, before she quickly regained her balance.
She advanced, pushing him back after knocking his sword away.
He moved to step forward, only for her to raise her sword to his throat.
He raised his hands in surrender before scooting back, allowing her to swing at him.
He picked up a thick, knotted rope, holding it in front of him to block her strikes, only to take advantage as one of these strikes slipped through the loop, causing her to lose her grip.
Now that he had her sword, Aelinor attempted to run back to the one she had knocked to the ground.
Their duel came to an end when Bronn stood on the blade, preventing her from picking it up.
He placed the sword at her chin, using it to guide her to her feet. "Dead."
"And this is why I need to train. So this doesn't happen if someone tries to harm me or my son."
She huffed, storming off, her uncle and Bronn watching her go.
Later that day, in the gardens, a pre wedding banquet was being held of Joffrey and Margaery's wedding, which was finally able to move forward.
Aelinor, Sansa, Tyrion, Joffrey, Tywin, Cersei, Tommen, and Pycelle sat at an outdoor banquet table.
Mace Tyrell stood before them.
"From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup." He placed the cup, a large golden goblet, before Joffrey. "May you and my daughter Margaery drink deep and live long."
"A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?"
"I shall be honored, Your Grace." Mace bowed and walked away. Shae brought a tray to the table and set it before Sansa.
"She's the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one." Cersei told her father as Shae walked away.
"Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding."
Tyrion appeared concerned and met the eye of his niece who looked equally worried upon overhearing this. Podrick placed a large tome before Joffrey and Tyrion walked around to the front of the table.
"A book?" Joffrey said, not even trying to hide his disappointment.
"The Lives of Four Kings." Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read."
Joffrey was at a loss for words until his grandfather encouraged him to respond.
"Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom. Thank you, Uncle."
Tyrion bowed before returning to his seat.
The Mountain brought forth a sword and laid it on the table before Joffrey, Aelinor glaring at the disgraceful excuse of a knight.
Tywin stood. "One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honour."
"What honour?" Aelinor muttered.
Joffrey walked around the table. Exuberantly, he unsheathed the sword.
"Yes. Give the King known for slaughtering cats and killing whores a sword. Nevrmind he's not even worthy of wielding it."
"Careful, Your Grace. Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel." Pycelle said before anyone could acknowledge Aelinor's comment.
"So they say." Joffrey stepped away, then spun and cleaved the book that Tyrion just gave him, repeatedly. People gasped in response as Joffrey looked very pleased with himself. "Such a great sword should have a name. What shall I call her?"
Men began shouting out suggestions.
"Stormbringer."
"Terminus."
"Widow's Wail."
"Wolfsbane."
"Widow's Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it will be like cutting off Ned Stark's head." Joffrey sheathed the sword and Sansa looked dejected while Shae watched on.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. But you didn't, did you?" Aelinor said, causing her brother's infuriated gaze to turn to her. "How very... Lannister, of you. Ordering the death of innocents without actually getting your hands dirty. So glad I didn't inherit that trait."
Looking at her brother, she could see he was fuming. His face was beginning to turn red. But before he could do anything, his mother stood.
"Excuse your sister, darling. She must be tired. Taking care of a newborn requires a lot of energy... and patience."
With a huff, Joffrey returned to his seat by Margaery and her father.
"You really ought to stop provoking him," Loras whispered.
"Yet an outburst like that one would have made this banquet far more interesting."
The festivities continued with Joffrey being offered more gifts, and more courses being offered.
Needless to say, Aelinor was glad when she was allowed to excuse herself to take care of her son.
Joffrey made no protest, probably glad he no longer had to deal with her.
She insisted Loras remain behind to celebrate with his sister.
Instead, she was escorted inside by Ser Fowler.
They made their way inside, the occasional servant or guard bowing as she passed.
Finally they arrived at her chambers.
"Ah, Dyanna, I hope he wasn't too much trouble." Aelinor greeted her favourite handmaiden, Dyanna.
She had met Dyanna as a child in the streets of King's Landing.
Bored, the young princess snuck out of the Red Keep.
From the window of her chambers, she could often see out into the city, hear the hustle and bustle, the laughter of children.
She hadn't been paying attention to where she was going when she tripped over something, tumbling to the ground.
Looking up, she noticed it was a person, about her size, with blonde, or brown hair. She couldn't tell with the way she was covered in dirt.
When they looked up, she noticed it was a girl, probably the same age as her; eight.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I'm Aelinor."
"Dyanna," the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What are you doing on the floor?"
"I live here."
"Really? Where are your mom and dad?"
"I nevr met my dad and my mom is dead."
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Why not?"
Dyanna gestured to her clothes, a fancy dress and shoes.
"So you have nowhere to go?"
Dyanna shook her head. "The orphanages are already overflowing. They can not really feed and clothe the kids they have, let alone new ones."
"Why don't you come with me?"
"What about your parents?"
"I'm the Princess. I could have you as a handmaiden. This way you have somewhere to live and eat."
Dyanna rose to her feet, curtsying.
"You don't need to curtsy. We're friends."
"We are?"
"We are," Aelinor confirmed. "Now come on."
When she first took Dyanna back to the castle, her mother protested. Told her she couldn't save every stray she met in the streets.
This was the beginning of her drive to help the smallfolk. It seemed no one else cared about them, so it was up to her. She started eating less and saving the food to be passed out amongst the servants, who often enjoyed food of lesser quality than they made for the royal family.
It was a start, but she felt she could do more. Her attention turned to the less fortunate in the streets of the city.
She began asking for an allowance. When questioned what is was for, she initially lied and said it was for new clothes because her old ones didn't fit. Instead she used it to have food sent to the people. Some of her clothes indeed didn't fit and toys she no longer played with, so she sent those to the nearest orphanage.
Eventually, it garnered her the title of the People's Princess. The smallfolk were simply happy one member of the royal family was showing they hadn't forgotten about them.
"Not at all. He's just been fed, so he should sleep a while."
"Good." Walking over to his crib and looking down at her sleeping son, she whispered, "Don't you worry my little love. Should anyone try to harm you, they will learn what happens when Fire mixes with fury."