—— " Are you asking to be my teacher, Ser Sloane? " ——
༺ ♔ ༻
——— AFTER AN ENTIRE MONTHS JOURNEY, the Starks and the King's party finally arrived at King's Landing. It wasn't what Rosaline thought. It was quite large, and grand. Many villagers were there waiting for their arrival. It almost made Rosaline feel... important.
Rosaline followed her father through the front of the Winterfell procession, along with Jory and other guards. Behind them, Arya, Sansa, and Septa Mordane were riding in a cart, in awe of the views that was King's Landing.
Once they entered the courtyard, Ned pulled himself off his horse, lightly petting it to keep it calm while Rosaline held onto her reins, staying put on Athena. Though, Rosaline and her father's attention was pulled elsewhere when they were approached by a royal steward.
"Welcome, Lord Stark," he greeted. "Grand Maester Pycelle has called a meeting of the Small Council. The honor of your presence is requested."
Ned then glanced back at Septa Mordane before he said, "Get the girls settled in. I'll be back in time for supper."
The woman nodded as Rosaline sighed, knowing more of her sisterly duties were required. She pulled herself off her horse as her father continued, "And, Jory, go with them."
"Yes, my lord."
Rosaline fiddled with her reins, petting the side of Athena's head as the horse nuzzled against her. She grinned against the horse's dark, luscious hair just before a man walked up to her. She turned to him, and by the looks of it, he seemed to be in charge of the stables. She hesitantly gave the reins to him and he smiled at her before he walked off towards the stables, she presumed. She watched them a moment before quickly shaking her head, turning back to her sisters and governess.
With that, they were escorted into the castle and their journey at King's Landing began. Such a pretty sight. Long, bright hallways, highly decorated and polished. Rosaline didn't know about her sisters, but she definitely felt so special. And important walking through the halls, escorting to their apartments. Though luxury and beauty would soon not be important once she realized how corrupt King's Landing truly was.
The Stark's apartments were quite beautiful and accommodating. It had a large area for the family to eat and spend time together but among were four bed chambers. One for each of them.
When Rosaline found her chamber, she smiled to herself when she found her things were already brought there. All still intact. Even her bow and quiver. She lined her fingers across the bow, smiling as she thought of Jon, wondering what he was up to.
As she began to unpack her things, she spotted a note on a desk with a red rose laid over it. The folded note had her name written on it, so clearly it was for her. As well was it in her chambers.
So she picked up the note and unfolded it to find a small letter written;
Welcome to King's Landing, Lady Rosaline.
- Ser Adrian Sloane
Rosaline grinned to herself before picking up the rose, and smelling the refreshing scent. She gently placed it in her hair before she continued to unpack her things, decorating her room to her own style that would make Sansa jealous. That is until Rosaline decorated her chambers the same way and the redhead was satisfied.
———
That evening, all the happiness was drained out of Rosaline when supper came around. And Arya and Sansa were being absolutely insufferable.
Rosaline was attempting to eat her supper when Arya began to repeatedly stab the wooden dinner table with a dagger. Rosaline held in a breath, placing down her utensils as she annoyingly placed her eyes on her sister.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm practicing," Arya angrily said and Rosaline eyed her confused.
"Practicing for what?" asked Sansa.
"The Prince," said Arya.
Rosaline rose her brows, an unamused expression over her as Sansa looked at Arya alarmed.
"Arya, stop!" said Septa Mordane and Arya looked at her, continuing to stab the table.
"He's a liar and a coward! And he killed my friend!" snapped Arya.
"The Hound killed your friend..." Sansa recalled and Arya looked at her.
"The Hound does whatever the Prince tells him to do!" said Arya.
"You're an idiot," muttered Sansa.
"And you're a liar," added Arya. "If you told the truth, Mycah would be alive!"
When Arya slammed the dagger into the table one last time, Rosaline, tired of the bickering nonsense, quickly reached over and snatched the blade from her.
"Hey—!"
"That's enough!" snapped Rosaline and Arya cowered down, furrowing her brows at her sister. She knew she was angry because a vein popped out in the middle of her head. That vein only appeared when Rosaline was angry. "Enough from both of you!"
She sat back down in her chair as Septa Mordane watched the girl mournfully. With their mother gone, Rosaline had to be the one to keep her sisters in place when Ned was away. No one told her to do it, but she knew her sisters wouldn't listen to anyone but her. Not even to Septa Mordane.
Rosaline set the dagger next to her plate, a stern look over her.
"You'll get your dagger back tomorrow, Arya," said Rosaline and Arya stayed silent. The little girl watched her older sister a moment, irritation filling her up before she abruptly jumped out of her seat, beginning to storm off to her room.
Septa Mordane gasped, standing from her seat as well but Rosaline didn't blink an eye. If a child was going to throw a fit, they're going to throw a fit. There was nothing Rosaline could do except let Arya cool down.
However, when Arya began to storm off — Ned Stark walked into the apartments, spotting his daughter.
"What's happening here?" he asked as Rosaline glanced over at him.
Septa Mordane turned to him, before she disapprovingly said, "Arya would rather act like a beast than a lady."
Rosaline then glanced back to her sister, who started at their father silently. Ned was silent as he looked to his daughter from the governess. And he stared at her with hidden annoyance before he said, "Go to your room. We'll speak later."
Arya walked off to her room, and when she did, Rosaline presumed cutting her supper. As she did, Ned placed a wrapped package in front of Sansa on the table.
Sansa stopped eating to look at him.
"That's for you, love," he said.
Rosaline glanced over at the present as Ned and Septa Mordane sat down at the table. Sansa hesitantly opened the package to find it was a doll inside.
"The same dollmaker makes all of Princess Myrcella's toys," Ned told her but Sansa was simply unimpressed. "Don't you like it?"
"I haven't played with dolls since I was eight," Sansa bitterly said and Ned stared at her frustrated, and Rosaline felt bad for him.
Since Lady died, Sansa had been bitter and lashing out. At Ned. And sometimes at her sisters. But mostly at Ned.
He'd been trying everything he can to make her happy again, but nothing seemed to be working.
"May I be excused?" asked Sansa.
"You've barely eaten a thing," said Septa Mordane.
"It's alright," said Ned. "Go on."
Sansa didn't take less than five seconds to leave the dinner table and walk off to her room. Ned watched her go as Rosaline stayed quiet in her seat, a blank stare over her.
"War was easier than daughters," Ned murmured and from that, Rosaline shot him a dark look. He nervously chuckled before he began to eat his supper with her and Septa Mordane.
༻✦༺
THE NEXT DAY, Rosaline walked through the royal gardens, her bow and quiver of arrows in hand. She had a determined look over her, but was also determined to get away from her siblings. They were much to deal with. But she was determined to become an artist in archery. She wanted to perfect it, all the way through. She didn't know how she'd learn to shoot moving objects, but she'd figure it out.
"My lady!" Rosaline stopped in her tracks and glanced back, only for a small smile to appear on her lips when she found Ser Adrian Sloane dashing up for her.
"Ser Sloane," she said as he slowed down once he got close to enough. "I received your letter. And the rose. Thank you."
"Of course, my lady," Ser Sloane smiled before noticing the bow and arrows in her hands, staring in curiosity. "What are you doing with that?" Though when he saw her embarrassed face, he grinned. "Do you like archery?"
The girl nodded causing a bigger grin to appear.
"A lady loving archery... that's unheard of," he said.
"Yes... it is..." said Rosaline, hearing that only about a thousand times. "I had to sneak this in with my things. My parents don't know my brother gave this to me before we parted ways."
"So... this is your first bow?" he asked and she nodded. A smirk plastered over him. "That means you need a teacher..."
Rosaline didn't need someone to teach her archery, initially, but she did need someone who was willingly to teach a woman how to shoot a moving objects with an arrow. So far, Ser Adrian Sloane didn't seem to mind she was a woman with a bow and arrows.
"Are you asking to be my teacher, Ser Sloane?" she asked and the man smiled.
"Yes... Yes, I suppose I am," he said and she lightly smiled at him. But he shook her head, fiddling with a scroll in his hand. "I didn't come here to ask about your archery skills. A raven has just come..." Rosaline stared at him confused as she stepped towards him. "From Winterfell."
Her brown eyes met his blue ones for a moment as they glimmered in surprise and anticipation. She wrapped her quiver strap over her before taking the scroll, quickly unrolling it. And she quickly read the letter from Robb, a happy grin came over when she read that Bran had woken up. But that same happiness quickly faded when she read the bad news from her brother's letter.
Bran had lost the use of his legs. He was paralyzed.
That night, Rosaline was quietly sitting in her chambers, leaning against the bay window as she watched the sun go down. In her hands was the scroll Ser Sloane gave her, and she fiddled with it as a frown etched over her. She still couldn't believe her brother, little brother, was a cripple now.
She, more than anything, wanted to leave this instant just to help him. Him, her mother, and little Rickon. It hurt her that she couldn't.
Leaning against the wood she sat on was her quiver and bow, out for anyone to see. Not that she cared if her father or sisters saw. They wouldn't care as much.
Suddenly, there was a knock at her door.
Rosaline blinked out of her thoughts before glancing over at the door. "Come in," she said.
However, when her door opened, no one was at the door. At least, not a human. A wolf strolled in, happily running up to Rosaline.
The girl gasped as she pulled herself forward, her legs dangling off the bay. She couldn't believe her eyes.
"Sigrid?" she questioned as she began petting the wolf's head. She broke into a smile, leaning down on the floor before the direwolf, petting her lovingly as Sigrid happily licked the girl's face. But as she did, Rosaline noticed a red sticky substance around the wolf's mouth. "Is this blood?"
"It seems like there was an incident in Winterfell..." Rosaline glanced up to find her father standing at her doorstep, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway.
"What... What kind of incident?" asked Rosaline, suddenly worried. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything is fine," he told her but he didn't sound very convincing. "Sigrid protected your mother and brother... just as you asked her to do..."
Rosaline smiled at him before she held Sigrid close to her, petting her soft fur lovingly. But kept her eyes on her father.
"How did she get here?" she asked, although Ned was silent for a moment.
"I don't know," he lied. "She just... turned up in the courtyard..."
Even Rosaline could've come up with a better lie than that.
"Father..." she murmured as Sigrid began to explore the chambers. "What is going on? Really?"
Ned only shook his head.
"I can't tell," he said. "Not now."
"Then when?" she asked, but he didn't answer her.
His attention was pulled elsewhere when he spotted her quiver and bow. He eyed it a moment before pointing it out.
"Whose bow is that?" he asked.
Rosaline was silent, hesitantly glancing back at her gear before placing her eyes back on her father.
"Mine," she quietly answered.
"Give it to me," he said and she stared at him, instantly feeling defeated.
Annoyed, she pulled herself up off the ground before picking up the bow and quiver, handing it over to him. He didn't seem mad, only interested as he examined the gear.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
Rosaline hesitated to answer.
"It was a gift," she said as Ned sat down on the bench before her bed.
"Young ladies shouldn't be playing with arrows and bows," he said.
"I wasn't playing with it," Rosaline told him. "I haven't played with toys in several years, father."
Irritated, Rosaline sat next to her father in a huff. "I already know how to use a bow and arrow," she said. "I just want to learn... more."
"Good," said Ned after a moment and Rosaline stared at him surprised. "You're a Stark of Winterfell, what are our words?"
"Winter is coming," Rosaline told him.
"You were born in a harsh winter, you know those words more than anything," said Ned. "But winter truly is coming, just as you've suspected ever since the deserter's execution. In the winter, we must protect ourselves, look after one another."
Rosaline gazed at him, trying to take in his words, but she didn't understand what was going on. Why he seemed frightened suddenly.
"Father... how did Sigrid get to King's Landing?" asked Rosaline, but before he could say another lie, she shot him a hard look. "The truth, this time."
Ned stared at her before shaking his head.
"My sweet little Rosie," he murmured as he placed an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. "You have no idea the dangers we face."
"What do you mean?" she murmured.
"I don't mean to frighten you... but I won't lie either," he said. "We're in a dangerous place. We cannot fight a war by ourselves, okay?"
Rosaline nodded before he handed her archery equipment over into her arms. She straightened up, staring at them surprised before looking at him.
"Try not to shoot her sisters," he said and Rosaline chuckled. "If you're going to use a bow and arrow, you'd better have a good teacher..."
Rosaline smiled to herself before saying, "I think I already do..."
He smiled at her before placing a kiss on the side of her head. And as he left the chambers, Rosaline realized he still had not answered her on how Sigrid got to King's Landing from Winterfell. Yet... the dangers he's mentioned... Sigrid must had something to do with it... why she has blood on her. It had to do with Bran and her mother.
Rosaline knew she would find the secret out. Either from her father or on her own accord.
༺ ♔ ༻
——— ACROSS THE NARROW SEA, the Dothraki were riding through a field as they continued to travel to Vaes Dothrak. Daeron rode by his sister with Ser Jorah, the three of them fairly close to the front of the procession, which was where Khal Drogo was.
Daeron was lost in his thoughts, thinking of the night with Doreah by the fire when Daenerys suddenly asked, "Do the Dothraki buy their slaves?"
Daeron blinked, looking at his sister as Ser Jorah said, "The Dothraki don't believe in money. Most of their slaves were given to them as gifts."
"From whom?" asked Daenerys.
"If you rule a city and you see the horde approaching, you have two choices: pay tribute or fight," answered Ser Jorah. "An easy choice for most. Of course, sometimes it's not enough. Sometimes a Khal feels insulted by the number of slaves he's given. He might think the men too weak or the women too ugly. Sometimes a Khal decides his riders haven't had a good fight in months and need practice."
Just in front of them, a nearby rider angerily whipped a slave for not moving fast enough. Both Daeron and Daenerys were unnerved by this.
"Tell them all to stop," said Daenerys and Daeron looked at her surprised.
"You want the entire horde to stop?" asked Ser Jorah. "For how long?"
"Until I command them otherwise," said Daenerys and Daeron smiled at her.
"You're learning to talk like a Queen," said Ser Jorah.
"Not a Queen," said Daenerys. "A Khaleesi."
Daeron watched impressed as Daenerys dismounted her horse and began to walk through the field off the path into a nearby clearing. See Jorah yelled back to the Dothraki her orders, but as he did, Daeron heard sudden and quick movements. He glanced back to find an angered Viserys Targaryen dashing into the fields where their sister went.
Instantly, Daeron moved his reins, riding into the fields after his brother. And as he got closer, he heard him shouting, "You dare! You give commands to me? To me?!"
Once in the clearing, Daeron was quick to jump off his horse when Viserys grabbed Daenerys by the neck, her struggling under his grip. And he rushed towards them, anger fueling him up.
"You do not command the Dragon!" he spat. "I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms! I don't take orders from savages or their sluts! Do you hear me—!"
Abruptly, Daeron punched Viserys when he ran up to him, sending his older brother stumbling back. He made a squeaking, defended noise under his breath as his eyes landed on Daeron, realizing it was him. It was him who had punched him.
When Viserys pointed his sword in Daeron's face, the boy tensed up, holding in a breath as he placed an arm over Daenerys, keeping her close.
"Punching your king is traitorous—"
Suddenly, a whip wrapped itself around Viserys's neck and yanked him to the ground. Daeron let out a breath as Daenerys gasped, both of them watching their brother struggle on the ground.
Khal Drogo's bloodrider — Rakharo — had running into the area on horseback and yanked the King from his siblings. One of Daenerys's handmaidens and Ser Jorah had came running into the clearing as well.
Daeron and Daenerys's eyes were quickly pulled up onto Rakharo as he asked, "Hash shafka zali nharees, zhey Khaleesi?"
Daenerys stared at him confused before looking up at her brother. "What is he saying?" she asked.
"No!" shouted Daeron but the bloodrider wouldn't listen to him. He was only the Khaleesi's brother.
"What is he saying?!" shouted Daenerys.
"Rakharo asks if you want him dead, Khaleesi," her handmaiden said.
"No!" shouted Daenerys.
As Viserys continued to struggle on the ground, with a sadistic grin, Rakharo said, "Ishish chare acharoe hash me nem éjervae nharesoon."
Daeron widened his eyes, although he didn't entirely think it was a horrible idea. But he knew it was probably a bad idea to let his brother die.
"What did he say?" Daenerys hurriedly asked, pulling at Daeron's sleeve.
"He said maybe the ear will listen if it is removed from the head," Daeron told him and Daenerys's brows furrowed. "They want to take his ear to teach him respect."
"No!" shouted Daenerys as she looked at her handmaiden and Rakharo. "Please, please, don't hurt him! Tell him I don't want my brother harmed!"
Viserys was struggling to breathe, his face turning blue.
Daeron found odd satisfaction from that.
"Khaleesi vos zalo meme nem azisa," the handmaiden told Rakharo. Khaleesi does not want him harmed.
"Huh?" asked Rakharo.
Clearly disappointed, Rakharo released the whip from around Viserys's neck. He rolled over, taking heavy deep breaths. Coughing some.
Daeron rolled his eyes.
Viserys then glanced up at Ser Jorah on his horse and shouted, "Mormont! Kill these Dothraki dogs!"
Ser Jorah exchanged a look with Rakharo, but didn't move a muscle. He glanced back onto Viserys, and when he realized he wouldn't listen, the Targaryen got to his feet, and screamed, "I AM YOUR KING!"
Daeron shook his head, thinking to himself; No, you're not.
Once again, Ser Jorah stayed silent. He just glanced over at Daeron and Daenerys before he asked, "Shall we return to the khalasar, Khaleesi?"
Viserys glanced between Ser Jorah and Daenerys, insulted but Daeron practically glared at him. He kept glaring as Daenerys strolled past him and up to her horse that was brought through the fields. Her handmaiden helped her to her saddle, and as she did, Viserys angrily approached his brother.
"If you punch me again..." he bitterly said as Daeron angrily gazed him down. "...I will have your hand cut off."
Daeron stared at him a moment and just before Viserys thought he had the last word, Daeron spat in his face;
"If you touch her again... I will kill you," he said and Viserys stared at him shocked. "I don't care who you are."
With that, Daeron walked away from his brother, leaving Viserys watching him with an insulted expression. Daeron pulled himself up onto his brown horse, sending his brother one last scowl before he whipped his reins, and rode into the fields, heading back to the khalasar with Daenerys.
That night, after setting up camp once again, Daeron sat in Ser Jorah's tent with him and Rakharo. The boy was staring into the fire as Ser Jorah examined Rakharo's arakh.
"For a man on horseback, the curved blade is a good thing, easier to handle," said Ser Jorah. "It's a good weapon for a Dothrakan, but a man in full plate — shori tawakof — the arakh won't get through the steel."
Ser Jorah handed Rakharo his weapon before pulling out his own sword and Daeron glanced over at the sudden metal sound against the ground.
"That's where the broadsword has the advantage," Ser Jorah continued. "Designed for piercing plate."
Rakharo then said something in Dothraki that translated to, "Dothraki don't wear steel dresses."
"Armor," corrected Ser Jorah.
"Armor," said Rakharo. "Armor make a man... vroz?"
"Slow," said Daeron.
"Slow," Rakharo murmured.
"It's true, but it also keeps a man alive," said Ser Jorah.
Rakharo nodded before he said, "Tih ave mudarrs anna kirekosi liuqatil. Anna mudarrs anna ki athdikar alhazayim athzhokwazar." [My father taught me how to fight. He taught me that speed defeats size.]
Daeron listened to him, amazed with himself that he was able to follow along well enough to understand Dothraki.
"Anha've samie ki yeri ave kan a hakeso lajak," said Ser Jorah. [I've heard that your father was a famous warrior.]
"Anna kan dothrakhqoyi l Khal Bharbo," Rakharo told him, before pausing for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. He then looked at Ser Jorah, Daeron continuing to listen to the men. "Ma yeri ave, Jorah the Andal? Anna kan a lajak akka?" [He was a bloodrider to Khal Bharbo. And your father, Jorah the Andal? He was a warrior also?]
"He still is," Ser Jorah said in English. "A man of great honor. And I betrayed him."
Daeron watched him, a small frown on him before he said, "My father turned mad and was murdered before I was born..."
The men turned to him, eyeing him lightly odd just before Daenerys's handmaiden walked into the tent, a serious look on her. The men looked up at her as she said, "The Khaleesi wants to eat something different tonight. Kill some rabbits."
"There are no rabbits," Rakharo told her.
"Find some ducks, she likes ducks," she said.
"Have you seen any ducks, woman? No rabbits, no ducks. Do you have eyes in your head? Do you?" asked Rakharo.
"Dog then. I have seen many dogs," she said irritated.
"I don't think my sister wants to eat dog," Daeron spoke up.
The handmaiden was silent a moment, staring at all the men before nervously saying, "The Khaleesi have baby inside her..."
Daeron's eyes instantly widened, as he slowly straightened up in surprise at her words.
"She does not bleed for two moons. Her belly start to swell," she continued.
Daeron chuckled a smile, staring gleefully as Rakharo said, "A azhasavva ha al vezhven vezh."
A blessing from the Great Stallion.
Without another word, Daeron got up and rushed out of the tent. And headed towards his sister's.
When he found her, she was reading a book on her bed. Though by his footsteps, she looked up at him, but was confused by the giddy expression over him.
"I've heard from Irri," he said. "You're with child?"
From that Daenerys slowly smiled before she got up from her spot. Daeron tightly hugged his sister, although not too tightly, in fear of hurting her or the child. Daenerys grinned against her brother as she hugged back.
Perhaps everything would be alright.