[Outside Oxcross]
Thunder rumbled through the darkness. It was raining at the gold cloak encampment. Two gold cloaks were arguing over who was the best fighter.
"It's got to be the Mountain. He's the biggest. He's the strongest." The first man said.
"Bulls are bigger than lions. Doesn't mean I'd pick a bull in a fight." The other replied.
"If the bull had fangs and claws, I would. Right, the Mountain or our man Jaime."
"If he ever gets out."
"Loras Tyrell?"
"Loras Tyrell. He's prettier than the Queen."
"I don't care about pretty. He's better with a sword than any of them."
"How good could he be? He's been stabbing Renly Baratheon for years, and Renly ain't dead."
They laughed, and a horse neighed nervously.
"The horses seem a little spooked to you? They're horses."
"They get spooked by their own shadows."
"Shh. Do you hear that?"
"No." The first man replied.
"There's something out there."
The soldiers both stood to investigate the darkness. They moved forward cautiously, until the second man lets out a loud fart. The first jumped, and his companion laughed raucously.
"Oh. Oh, you're a right little prick. You should see your face."
"I swear you pissed yourself. "Oh, who goes there? Ahh!"
"There is something out there."
"Yeah, don't even try me."
"Rennick." The first man called.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Rennick!"
The first guard drew his sword. A direwolf leapt from the darkness and attacked Rennick, who screamed as he came face to face with King Robb Stark.
Robb and his Northern men sat quietly on their horses, listening as a pack of wolves descended upon the Lannister men.
"King in the North!" One man chanted.
"The King in the North!" The others chorused in reply.
[The Battlefield, The Next Morning]
The Northern forces had completed their assault on the encampment. The field was scattered with bodies and wounded men in the mist. Horses neighed and soldiers cried out in pain.
Lord Roose Bolton and Robb walked through the aftermath, followed by a handful of Northern soldiers.
"Five Lannisters dead for every one of ours. They're dead. Take everything they've got. We've nowhere to keep all these prisoners. Barely enough food to feed our own." Roose told him.
It seemed he was taking the Princess' advice. He'd killed the boy to become the man, and he was now trying to put more of his enemies men in the ground than his own.
"We're not executing prisoners, Lord Bolton."
"Of course, Your Grace. The officers will be useful. Some of them may be privy to Tywin Lannister's plans."
"I doubt it."
"Well, we'll learn soon enough. In my family, we say, "A naked man has few secrets. "A flayed man none.""
"My father outlawed flaying in the North."
"We're not in the North."
"We're not torturing them."
"The high road's very pretty, but you'll have a hard time mqrching your army down it."
"The Lannisters hold prisoners of their own. I won't give them an excuse to abuse my sisters."
As they continued walked through the carnage, they happened upon a field medic who was trying to help one of the wounded, though not one of their own.
"No, don't! Don't! Please!" The wounded soldier shouted.
"Shhh." The female medic soothed, or attempted to.
A wounded soldier struggled as she removed his tattered pants and tried to tend to his bloody legs while another woman tried to help.
"The rot's set in." She told him.
"No, don't! No, don't!"
"Shh."
"Please, don't! It'll get better. It doesn't even hurt."
"The rot will spread if we don't take the foot now."
"No, you can't!"
Robb approached, looking concerned as the man continued to struggle. Robb knelt and helped hold the man down.
"Ser! Please, ser. I can't lose-" The man spoke to Robb.
"You'll die if she doesn't."
"I don't want to be a cripple, please."
"Surely one of our men needs your attention more than this cub." Roose Bolton told the woman.
"Your men are not my men, my lord." She replied.
"Put this in your mouth and lie down. You don't want to watch." Robb told the man.
"No! You can't!"
"Bite on it. It's better than biting your own tongue, believe me."
Robb held the wounded soldier down as the woman sawed off his foot. He screamed through the gag that Robb placed in his mouth. Robb watched the resigned medic saw through, impressed by her resolve.
[Another Part Of The Battlefield]
A mounted soldier rode slowly, carrying the Stark banner. The female medic readied a cart carrying a wounded man. It started forward, and she looked exhausted, covered in blood. Robb looked over at her. She noticed and turned as he approached.
"What's your name?"
"Talisa."
"Your last name?"
"You want to know what side my family fights on?" She surmised.
"You know my family name. You have me at a disadvantage."
"That boy lost his foot on your orders."
"They killed my father."
"That boy did?"
"The family he fights for."
"Do you think he's friends with King Joffrey? He's a fisherman's son that grew up near Lannisport. He probably nevr held a spear before they shoved one in his hands a few months ago."
"I have no hatred for the lad."
"That should help his foot grow back." Talisa quipped, before walking away in frustration, carrying a heavy pail. Robb followed behind her.
"You'd have us surrender, end all this bloodshed. I understand. The country would be at peace and life would be just under the righteous hand of good King Joffrey."
"You're going to kill Joffrey?"
"If the gods give me strength."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. We'll go back to Winterfell. I have no desire to sit on the Iron Throne."
"So who will?"
"I don't know."
"You're fighting to overthrow a king, and yet you have no plan for what comes after?"
"First we have to win the war."
Frustrated, Talisa climbed onto a horse's cart, and signaled it to start off.
"You nevr told me where you're from."
"Volantis."
"Volantis? You're far from home. The boy was lucky you were here."
"He was unlucky that you were."
Talisa rode away, and she and Robb watched one another as she got further and further away.
[King's Landing - Throne Room]
King Joffrey Baratheon aimed a crossbow at a kneeling Lady Sansa Stark while Sandor "The Hound" Clegane stood nearby.
"You're here to answer for your brother's latest treasons."
"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that. I beg you, please"
"Ser Lancel, tell her of this outrage."
Ser Lancel Lannister address the room, who was taken aback by his recounting.
"Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell on Stafford Lannister with an army of wolves. Thousands of good men were butchered. After the slaughter, the Northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain."
"Killing you would send your brother a message." Joffrey told her.
Sansa cried out in fear.
"But my mother insists on keeping you alive. Stand. So we'll have to send your brother a message some other way. Meryn."
Ser Meryn Trant approached Sansa.
"Leave her face. I like a pretty face."
Sansa looked aghast at Joffrey. Meryn punched her full-force in the stomach and she doubled over in pain. Joffrey looked on cruelly as Meryn cut Sansa's legs out from under her. She fell to the floor, wailing.
"Meryn, my lady is overdressed. Unburden her."
Meryn rips Sansa's dress from the back, causing her to cry out in anguish.
"If you want Robb Stark to hear us, we're going to have to speak louder."
Meryn raised his sword to hit Sansa.
"What is the meaning of this?" A voice bellowed. It was Tyrion, accompanied by Bronn.
Meryn held his position and Joffrey looked worried as the duo made their way into the room.
"What kind of knight beats a helpless girl?"
"The kind who serves his king, Imp."
"Careful, now. We don't want to get blood all over your pretty white cloak." Bronn teased.
"Someone get the girl something to cover herself with. She is to be your queen. Have you no regard for her honor?" Tyrion said.
The Hound removed his cloak and walked to Sansa, draping it over her. She pulled it closer, still crying.
"I'm punishing her."
"For what crimes? She did not fight her brother's battle, you half-wit."
"You can't talk to me like that. The king can do as he likes!"
"The Mad King did as he liked. Has your Uncle Jaime ever told you what happened to him?"
"No one threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard." Meryn said, ready to unsheath his sword.
"I'm not threatening the king, ser. I am educating my nephew. Bronn, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, kill him. That was a threat. See the difference?"
Bronn smirked at Meryn who stared daggers at Tyrion.
"You should be glad your sister is not here. I don't even want to imagine what she would do." Joffrey paled as Tyrion turned and walked over to Sansa, offering her his hand.
She took it and stood before they walked out together.
"I apologize for my nephew's behavior. Tell me the truth. Do you want an end to this engagement?"
"I am loyal to King Joffrey, my one true love."
"Lady Stark, you may survive us yet."
Tyrion watched Sansa walk out of the throne room, followed by her handmaidens, who were almost certainly spies for Cersei, in admiration of her strength and clever response.
"The little king's backed up. Clogged from balls to brains." Bronn told him.
"You think dipping his wick will cure what ails him?"
"There's no cure for being a cunt. But the boy's at that age. And he's got nothing to do all day but pick wings off flies. Couldn't hurt to get some of the poison out."
[King's Landing - Hallway]
Aelinor found her Uncle Tyrion.
"Did you really send whores to Joffrey?" She asked as she approached him.
"Oh. You heard about that?"
"Yes, I heard about it. I also heard the fact that he had them beat one another. Does he really need another excuse to excersize his... proclivities. You've seen how he's treated Sansa since having her father beheaded."
"I know. My only intention was to have him shift his focus from Sansa to another, alleviate some of her suffering."
"If you say so."
"I do."
"What's this about Myrcella going off to Dorne?"
"Oh. Not you too. It's the safest place for her."
"I agree."
"Wait. You what?"
"I agree. Myrcella isn't safe here." She looked around before lowering her voice. "As much as we love her and Tommen, we know they are not my father's children. Them being in King's Landing is not as safe as my mom believes. She seized the throne for my brother, denying me my birthright."
"But you're..."
"A woman? Yes, I know. Maybe that is what the Seven Kingdoms need. We've been led by men for centuries and what has happened. Wars, with countless lives lost. Maybe if Lords could get their heads out off their asses, they'd see the true benefit of a female ruler."
"I am inclined to agree. You'd be a much better ruler than Joffrey. But we saw what happened when Rhaenyra tried to ascend the Iron Throne."
"Yes, but she fought against her trueborn brother. She was the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, my ancestor. I intend to honour her.
"You must be careful. What you speak of could be considered treason. Even if Joffrey died, Tommen would be next on line as the eldest male."
"I know. I don't see Joffrey's reign being a long one. He's cruel and sooner or later, someone will turn on him. Then Tommen would ascend, and no doubt be even further under my mother's control."
"Ah, yes. Cersei. My sister has alwys fancied herself our father 'with teats'."
"It's not far off. Both of them are ambitious and cunning. They will sink their claws into Tommen who will be a King in only name."
"Well, let us hope a better future is in store for us."
"Hope is the fool's ally."
"Yes, it is. But not much more can be done, sweet niece."
"I suppose you are right," she sighed. "I have enjoyed our talk, but if you'll excuse me, it has grown late and I wish to retire for the night. Good night, Uncle."
She leant down and kissed his cheek before turning and disappearing down the hallway.
Tyrion watched until she was out of sight before continuing to his chambers.
[King's Landing - Hallway Outside Tyrion's Chambers]
"Your visits are too few, cousin." Tyrion told his cousin, Lancel Lannister as he approached his chambers.
"Her Grace, the Queen Regent, commands you to release Grand Maester Pycelle. Here's your warrant."
Lancel extended a scroll to Tyrion, who took it, unimpressed.
"So it is. Will you take a cup with me? I find that mulled wine helps me sleep."
Tyrion stepped into his chamber and poured himself a cup of wine.
"I am here at Her Grace's behest, not to drink with you, Imp."
"If my sister was so concerned for Pycelle, I would have thought she'd come herself. Instead she sends you. What am I to make of that?"
"I don't care what you make of it, so long as you release your prisoner immediately."
Lancel moved to leave, but Tyrion did not let him.
"And you've received these instructions directly from Cersei?"
"As I said several times."
"And you've waited this long to deliver the information?"
"When the Queen Regent gives me a command, I carry it out without delay."
Tyrion pondered the scroll, while Lancel stood over his desk, annoyed.
"Cersei must have great trust in you, allowing you into her chamber during the hour of the wolf."
Lancel thought carefully before responding.
"The Queen Regent has a great many responsibilities. She often works from dusk till dawn."
"She must be very glad to have you helping her from dusk till dawn."
As Tyrion walked past Lancel, he caught a whiff of a familiar aroma.
"Ah. Lavender oil. She alwys loved lavender oil, even as a girl."
"I am a knight!"
"Tell me, did Cersei have you knighted before or after she took you into her bed? What? Nothing to say? No more warnings for me, ser?"
"You will withdraw these filthy accusations."
"Have you ever given any thought to what King Joffrey will have to say when he finds out you've been bedding his mother?"
Lancel sat and choked out some frustration.
"It's not my fault!"
"Did she take you against your will? Can you not defend yourself, knight?"
"Your own father, Lord Tywin, when I was named the King's squire, he told me to obey her in everything."
"Did he tell you to fuck her, too?"
"I only meant I did as I was bid."
"Hated every moment of it, is that what you'll have me believe? A high place in court, a knighthood, my sister's legs spreading open for you at night. Oh, yes, it must have been terrible. Wait here. His Grace will want to hear this."
Tyrion moved to leave the chamber to fetch Joffrey. Lancel fell to his knees and begged.
"Mercy! Mercy, my lord! I beg you."
"Save it for Joffrey. He loves a good grovel."
"My lord, it was your sister's bidding, the Queen. I'll leave the city at once, I swear."
"No, I think not."
"My lord?"
"You heard me. My father told you to obey my sister. Obey her. Stay close to her side. Keep her trust. Pleasure her whenever she requires. No one ever need know, as long as you keep faith with me. I want to know what Cersei is doing, where she goes, who she sees, what they talk of, everything. And you will tell me."
"Yes, my lord, I will. I swear it, as you command."
Tyrion clapped in celebration.
"Oh, rise, rise. Let us drink to our understanding. Oh, you don't have a cup. Oh, well. Smile, cousin. My sister is a beautiful woman, and it's all for the good of the realm. Go back and tell her that I beg her forgiveness, that I want no more conflict between us and that, henceforth, I shall do nothing without her consent."
"But her demands?"
"Oh, I'll give her Pycelle."
"You will?"
"Yes, I'll release him in the morning. Cersei can keep him as a pet, if she wants, but I will not have him on the Council. I could swear that I had not harmed a single hair on his head, but that would not, strictly speaking, be true. Stay within one table length."
Tyrion shut the chamber door, leacing Lancel leaning against the wall, feeling beaten.