#i have a first cousin named anthony and i refuse to let those streams cross

[regina-cordium]

trick....or treat...

First of all, the most important thing:

some candy to enjoy while reading.

This got a lot longer than it has any right to be. Whoops.

Spot wants it on the record that he was forced to be here.

Ever since returning to New York for his grad degree, Jack has been hell bent on him “getting the Boston out of his system,” or something dumb like that. Spot doesn’t get how a Halloween party in Jack and Charlie’s shoebox apartment counts towards that goal, but whatever. He’s mostly here because Charlie and Ma asked, and also Katherine pointed out it’d be hilarious to watch Jack trip over himself all night trying to impress Davey.

And the free booze. The free booze is vital.

So now he’s leaning up against the wall nursing a lukewarm beer and trying not to get crushed by what feels like the entirety of Manhattan crammed into such a small apartment. How the hell Jack even knows so many people, Spot will never know. What he does know is that he’s starting to get uncomfortable and hungry, and is probably five minutes away from snapping at someone for, like, existing.

“Three o’clock – Jack is about to eat shit,” a voice suddenly says from beside him. Spot does not jump, thank you very much, but he does lift his head in time to watch Jack trip over his own stupid cowboy hat; Davey is rushing forward to help Jack up, but is definitely also laughing at him.

“You always know what to get me,” Spot says, turning to Mack with a grin. She’s dressed as a baseball player, arms hooked around a bat she’s got across her shoulders. She’s also giving him an unimpressed lookover, rude.

“What are you even supposed to be?” she asks, brows raised.

“I’m a lumberjack.” Jack said he wouldn’t let Spot through the door if he wasn’t wearing a costume, so Spot just threw on the closest he could get to the Bounty paper towel dude.

“You wore that exact outfit to Stray’s birthday two weeks ago,” Mack points out, still deeply unimpressed.

Spot opens his mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but he’s drowned out by the sound of cheers and Jack going, “There he fucking is!”

He and Mack both look over to where Jack’s got his arms around someone Spot thinks he recognizes. The guy is wearing a red leather jacket covered in patches, black leather pants, sunglasses that look like they’re shaped like flames, and has red and yellow hair. There’s something written on his face, but he’s swallowed by a group hug before Spot can make it out.

“Who the fuck is that?” he asks.

“Hard to tell, but I think that was Dominic.”

Spot frowns. “Why do I know that name?”

“He’s been attached to Lucky’s hip since undergrad,” Mack explains, swinging her bat down to lean on. “They’re in the same math program or whatever. I think he was Jack’s roommate too? I dunno.”

“I thought he was blond?”

Mack raises an eyebrow, which Spot ignores. “It’s Halloween, dude. He probably dyed his hair. If you’re so curious, why don’t you go talk to him instead of haunting the corner.”

“I’m not haunting –” He breaks off as Mack plants a hand between his shoulder blades and shoves him, hurling him into someone. Spot turns to flip her off; Mack just blows him a kiss, because she’s an asshole.

“You good?” a voice asks.

Spot turns back to the person he knocked into, intending to apologize, but he stops when he realizes the person is Dominic. Spot sends another dirty look over his shoulder at Mack, but she’s gone.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry ‘bout that, my friend is a dick.”

Up close, Spot can see that Dominic has the number 9 on one cheek and 5 on the other, his glasses are, in fact, shaped like flames, and his blond roots are obvious under the red.

Dominic, for his part, looks extremely amused. “Hey, you’re Jack’s brother, right?”

“Spot,” he introduces, holding out a hand.

“Nice to meet’cha. I’m Dominic, but everyone calls me Racetrack.”

Spot is not distracted by his brother’s old roommate’s hands, because that would be weird and also fucking cliche.

Pulling himself together, because only one Larkin kid gets to be a disaster about hot boys and Jack has that shit on lockdown, Spot says, “Weird fucking nickname.”

Instead of being offended, like most people are when Spot speaks, Racetrack just throws his head back and laughs (Spot is not distracted by the long column of his throat.) “What, weirder than Spot?” he asks.

Spot can’t exactly argue with that, so he quickly changes track. “What’re you supposed to be, anyway? Ain’t you hot in all that leather?”

“I’m hot out of the leather, too,” Racetrack says with a smirk, causing Spot to choke on the sip of beer he’d just taken. Racetrack laughs again as he unhelpfully pats Spot on the back. “I think you’re supposed to drink that, not inhale it.”

“Fuck you,” Spot wheezes.

Racetrack seems to finally take pity, because he finally answers Spot’s question. “I’m Lightning McQueen!”

Spot stares at him for a moment. Racetrack grins back.

“Like. From that Disney movie?” Spot finally asks.

“First of all, it’s a Pixar movie, and don’t let Jack hear you get the two confused,” Racetrack corrects. “Second, yes.”

“What the fuck?”

“Dude, my name’s Racetrack. I had to.”

“You absolutely didn’t.”

Racetrack sighs dramatically (Spot gets the feeling he does everything dramatically).

“You sound like Albert,” he pouts and goddamn it, Spot can’t even pretend he doesn’t find it absolutely adorable. Fucker.

“I’d be offended by the comparison,” Spot says, thinking about all the dumb shit Albert got up to in high school, “but for once in my life, I agree with him.”

“Well, you’re not even wearing a costume, so I win by default.”

Spot can’t help but snort. “That’s not how that works, first of all. Second, I am. I’m a lumberjack.”

“You look like you belong at some hipster bar that’s got overpriced drinks and too much wood paneling.”

“Okay, now I’m offended,” Spot says, but there’s a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Racetrack seems to notice it, because his own grows.

“You wanna get something to eat?” Racetrack asks suddenly. Spot’s glad he’s finished his beer, because we would’ve definitely choked again.

Instead, he raises an eyebrow and says, “You mean ditch my brother’s party to hang out with someone I don’t even know?”

Racetrack rolls his eyes. “You’re not even enjoying yourself.”

“Fuck off, maybe I’m having the goddamn time of my life,” Spot argues, just to argue.

“You’re not.” It’s so matter of fact that Spot is taken aback. “‘Sides, Jack never gets enough food for these things and you were here before me, so if I’m hungry then you are too.”

Spot had actually forgotten he was even hungry, but now that it’s been brought up he’s suddenly fucking starving.

“Fine,” he finally relents, unable to stop his smile when Racetrack pumps his fists. “But only because I’m fucking starving. You just happened to be the first person to say anything.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Spotty!” Racetrack laughs as he leads them through the crowd. “You up for Chinese?”

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

ASOIAF AU Variation

—

“But Father!” The shout was audible to even those outside of the dimly lit library, a regular sound throughout Lannisport as the years had drawn on. More so during the Winter than Summertime, but this season marked the beginning of the young lioness’ womanhood and with it the threat of betrothal, an idea knowingly abhorrent to the teen. “I don’t want to go-”

“This isn’t a matter up for discussion, Joanna!” Lord William Lannister replied with the same volume to his daughter, voice booming through the stacks of the library and sent the servants and stewards working within scurrying to avoid what was fast becoming a regular occurrence through the castle. “You’re going to the Red Keep to be a Lady in Waiting as your grandfather organised, and that is /final/..”

All the response, much the same as every other argument over the last fifteen years between the two, was a strangled noise and the slamming of the old oak doors as the blonde girl stormed out on her father, cursing the gods, their king, her grandfather and everyone in between. It was little surprise that those were the ones to face the girl’s wrath, the love between the two Lannister’s was known through all the houses of the seven kingdoms.

It was with a heavy sigh that the knight returned to his reading and preparations for his daughter’s travels to court; something that he had been dreading ever since she was born and that the pair avoided at all costs in the twelve years since his wife had been found lying in the frozen grass by the road halfway between Casterly Rock and her parent’s and twin at Highgarden shortly after the Ward’s of both regions had proclaimed war amongst themselves.

William knew the accusation and suspicion that fell upon himself at the time was false, despite having been travelling with her on horse back further ahead of the carriage, the love he held for his then wife and his child as well as his sworn promise to protect and care for the dark haired beauty from the neighbouring region and others as his knighthood required would have protected her from harm, but as tensions grew he’d agreed to remove himself and his daughter from Casterly Rock to Lannisport until the scandal faded from the courts memory.

Those who had known the knight before that Winter when Lady Evelynn had died, would have sworn to his good nature, humor and honor; unlike most of his house. His word was law to himself, guiding his actions with a sound conscience, and Ser William was well liked among the younger nobles of the Court of his day. After the scandalous death, however, only those who had truly known the knight and understood him would sully their reputation to know the disgraced and cowed young man or his daughter for years onwards.

It was only due to his father, Lord Anthony Lannister of Lannisport otherwise known as the Master of Whisperers, that he was to be separated from his daughter as it was. Unless he too rode to the Red Keep to reside and be near her. Some might have found the connection between father and daughter to be suspicious, questionable due to the nature of some Houses around the realm, but William had never been one to listen to gossip nor let his daughter go about unprotected. Which he had ensured would never be the case, even as he finished his letter to his father and to the Queen to send his little Joanna to court alone - with no one but her own hand servant and the dark, light blade he planned to give to her on her departure to protect herself.

—

Sunshine shone through the canopy of the castle gardens onto the small gaggle of young ladies as she passed by, the thin blue material of her dress grazing the paved pathway with all the elegance a Queen must possess. Eleanor Targaryen was no longer a queen though, despite her still high position in the castle as being the mother of the King allowed her. Her husband’s passing had been very quick, very unexpected, and as some would say, very suspicious.

This was not the first time that thought had crossed the Targaryen woman’s mind, often streaming through at the most inopportune times or late at night as she retired to her now lonesome bedchamber. King Visyak had been in high spirits and good health when he left on his hunting trip with their son and his trusted guards. And yet he’d returned a corpse, said to have set chase on a boar through the woods and fallen from his saddle with a mighty thump. How it could have happened-

Eleanor’s thoughts were interrupted as the young ladies, her daughter’s ladies in waiting, her friends and those she needed to behave as friend to, erupted into laughter. The dark haired princess, her spoilt little Shada, was at the centre of the group, hands thrown wide as she exclaimed over one boy or other getting another round of laughter.

How she’d ended up with the four children she had, Eleanor had no idea. All so different from one another, but so similar as well. They represented each facet of her late husband’s family and her own smaller branch to a tee,

Princess Shada, the only girl and third born of her babes, was the vivacious and beautiful one. Her dark hair the same as the purer Targaryen line their father came from, with dark eyes and warm cream skin that extenuated her fair features and the determined set of her jaw. While she was not sadistic or cruel like some of the house, the princess did have a wicked streak that would widen and twist under the guidance of one of her older brothers at times or shrink back around her other brother’s and few of her young lady friends. It distressed Eleanor to no end the number of offences against young noble men or other families, or even their servants, that Shada Targaryen would instigate at the same time as suggesting something to bring a little good to the realm.

The girl’s laughter continued to follow the ex-Queen as she moved along the path and under the lattice archway towards the end of the garden closest to her own rooms of the castle. Doorways in and out of the rooms to the outdoors had been a gift from her husband, after hours of argumentative bickering over her love of the outside when Summer would arrive.

And Summer had arrived, finally, after a longer Winter than expected. Though she had to thank her eldest son for the advance warning that they were to face a long night and to prepare the kingdom for it back when her husband still ruled. The Bastard King, as his brother and many of the kingdom had called him over the years, had been studying with the maesters for a few years by that time after rejecting the legitimacy that had been offered to him. Born out of wedlock, but with all well aware who the boy’s father was, the would-be Prince Jackson was born early and opted to denounce his claim to his father’s title and spend his days researching, learning and bettering himself for the good of other’s - rather than fight it out with his younger brother for supremacy  Regardless how much better that may have been for the kingdom for him to rule with the kind heart and level head that many of the greatest Targaryen kings had possessed.

Eleanor had bemoaned every day that the Winter had lasted as long as it had and her and her husband’s deep desire for a Summer marriage to bring luck upon their rule. Had she prepared earlier, then she might have found her first born upon the throne rather than the second. Who could barely be controlled by any person or power at the court but a few.

King Jeffrey, otherwise known as King Gray after the cold gray color of his armour which would remain spotless and his sword which would be drenched in blood when he was met on the battlefield, ruled with an iron fist to match his iron throne. Few in the court could gain his attention for very long, and even fewer could keep it and attempt something good to come out of it. Even Princess Shada, who had spent hours and days and weeks infatuated with her brother (much like many generations of the pure Targaryen line), was unable to sway him for more than an hour or two from whatever blood thirsty idea had crossed his twisted mind. He was much like the kings those clever folk would fear, Eleanor had learnt, but his charm and smile could fool even the cleverest of souls eventually.

If only life had switched both boys roles, the old Queen probably would have felt better, or at least less suspicious, about her husbands passing. And yet life had spun the way it had - and though Gray was a twisted and sadistic king, he controlled those beneath him in a way only true fear could motivate others. A way even love couldn’t keep them in line. Much to Eleanor’s horror.

Her suite of rooms still housed her fourth and final child, the small boy with a similar light blue eyes as her oldest son and the dark hair all four children possessed, called Prince Ian. The chubby young boy was barely seven, and since his father’s passing had continued to refuse and fight the attempts of counsels, family and Eleanor herself to have him move to his own suite of rooms within the royal wing of the palace. The Capitol was certainly a place that she could understand not wanting to leave one’s safety place for - often dreading stepping through her own bedroom door in a morning to face the day.

And yet, as the slightly greying, light haired woman moved into her rooms and sank into the lusciously fabric’d arm chair before her late-husband’s desk, she found herself considering just what move of those the small counsel and herself had been discussing would bring the most prosperity to the realm. Just how to get the king to agree as well, escaping her too.

—

“I like what you’ve done with your hair, Deja. Trying something from the Capital?”

The soft growl of a voice from behind her startles the young woman, hands flying to her hair as if expecting something other than the simple plaits holding the rest of her hair back in the style that her cousins from Casterly Rock did. Joanna barely flinches at the wrong name though - the light pink and silvers of her clothes were chosen just for that mistake to happen, rather than her typical reds, tans and gold’s.

“I heard that my cousin will be headed to Kings Landing shortly to wait on Princess Shada - I thought I’d get a head start on the next trend.” It takes a moment for her to mimic her cousin’s voice and mannerisms, the haughty tone tasting bad on her tongue as she turns to look at the stranger who approached her. Obviously he knew her cousin, was possibly even friends with her which worries Jo a little since she’s never seen Deja interact with someone she actually likes. “Before it becomes as out-dated as it always has been.”

The almost impossibly tall, smiling man in front of her catches her off guard when she sees him, having expected someone as intimidating as the eldest (and only) Clegane son from when she met him at his sister’s funeral as a child or as overbearingly attentive as the Stark brothers who were even taller than her father now they’d grown. A friendly smile was not something she ever expected to see when pretending to be her cousin, but that could just be her view of the other girl.

As he reaches out towards her, Joanna has to fight down the desire to turn around and run away - blinking owlishly at him in confusion until he tugs gently at her hair. “And would the colour also be a part of your trying to mock your cousin? Not sure it suits you, milady.” The blond’s smile widens a little more, twisting into a smirk as he tugs her hair again and her mouth drops in outrage.

Slapping his hand away, Jo flips her hair back over her shoulder and snubs her nose at him trying to act like Deja and not to the sharp offense that brings up. “I’m doing no such thing! She may feel a might foolish standing out from the rest of the crowd now there are no fair-haired Targaryen’s staying in the capital and her cousins have returned to Casterly Rock after the King took offence to them.” Huffing and fighting down the blush wanting to spread across her face, she waves a hand at the stranger as though to admonish him before turning on her heel. “To think you think such a mean spirited thing of me, why I never.”

Keeping up the overly pleasant and girlish behaviour that Deja had shown an overabundance of the last time she saw her several years back, the blonde found herself wanting to get as far away from the tall man and as quickly through the castle as she could get.

Hearing his footsteps coming after her, the Lannister girl finds herself cursing under her breath - words she’d never heard another Lady say but her father and his drunken port friends cajoling and shouting amongst each other around her ever since she was a young child - before trying to duck down a corridor only to be cut off again by a long arm and the man clearing his throat.

“Oh I know you’re not that mean spirited - Deja however, would be.” Jo stops struggling from trying to push past him as he speaks and there is the sound of movement down the path they just turned off of. Glancing up, she has to try and stop herself from shouting for help as the stranger leans in closer and whispers into her ear just how badly she did in trying to get past Riverrun in disguise. “And she would have said some of those very unpretty words while chasing me off the moment she saw me, Lady Joanna.”

“You knew before that though..” She swallows down the lump in her throat as she thinks about it, frowning up at the man as he gives a small nod of acknowledgement. It’s not until two servant girls bustle by down the main passage that Jo continues speaking. “Why didn’t you stop me and take me to my aunt then, Lord.. Uh.”

The blond man shakes his head, leaning back and giving her space to breathe. “I’m no lord, milady.” As she raises a brow at him, unconvinced and sure she was about to be dragged before her aunt and the Lord of Riverrun. Exactly what her entire masquerading as her cousin was in an attempt to avoid. “Ser William Baelish, at your service.”

The words did nothing to soothe her, pale eyebrow rising higher for a moment before furrowing as Joanna stares him down despite their height and status differences. “And at the Lord’s service as well, I’m sure.” Snapping back, she crosses her arms while glancing around as though to take in the area around her for any potential means of escape or overpowering the stronger man. “Well that’s all well and good, but there’s no way I’m being dragged before that bitch and her master, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Moving to shove past him, the large hand gripping her upper arm tightly pauses her just out of grasp of the large ornate vase Jo had spotted even as her other arm reaches for it. “Wait-” His hand tightens further as she tries to pull free or grab the vase, fully intending to smash it against his skull and make a run for it all over again. “Stop struggling, damn you!” William is cut off as her hand changes course, palm slapping soundly across his cheek as she pulls back as though to punch out after. “Mother help you, I’m not going to hurt you, you harpy, if you’d just let me.”

“Oh look at the knight, all chivalrous and kind, how /knightly/ of you. I don’t need your petty promises from the likes of you.” Hissing the words out, the lady goes to strike him again - though his other hand rises to catch her wrist before she can get there. “Let go of me or I’ll scream.”

There’s a second as they both stare at one another as the ridiculousness of her threat sinks in. Jo gives a deep sigh before tugging at her arm with a scowl. “Just let me go, my father thinks I’m headed to Kings Landing from here-”

“But that’s not where you do want to go, considering this get up.” Releasing her, William draws himself up to his full height as though considering the shorter woman. After a short moment, it seems like he comes to a conclusion about her and Jo tenses to prepare herself for whatever conclusion it may be. “Exactly where are you planning to run off to with your tail between your skirts, little lioness? Your grandmother and grandfather in Highgarden perchance.”

“I wouldn’t go near that insane hermit if I had to - I’m going to go North.”

She wasn’t expecting the laughter that her words brought up, and slapping out her hand towards his unprotected cheek yet again as he does not stop and the sounds of servants reach her ears from down the mazes of corridors around them. “I’m going North, I’m going to wait until my grandfather is over his fucking insanity and then I’m going home. Good day, Ser William. I hope the next time I see you, you’ve been cut back down to a normal size.”

It wasn’t like she was expecting to be able to just waltz away, but she definitely wasn’t expecting to be swept upwards over the knight’s shoulder before she even got to the corner to the main passageway.

—

The Lord and Lady Tully were walking around the gardens within the castle walls when they first heard the shouts and screams. If Ellen had not been warned in advance by the whispers of their servants that the visiting hedge knight from the Fingers was heading their way with her niece the noise and curses being screamed at full volume would have worried her. As it is, a weary sigh escapes her lips as her husband’s hand finds hers and they continue their walk around the shell of the new sandstone sunroom that was being built. Robert was a good husband to her, and cared deeply for their daughter Deja - building the room as a surprise present for when she returned from Kings Landing.

“You no good, honourless mercenary asshole! When I get free, you will rue the day you did this until your dying moment - /which is nigh!/”

The shrieks were getting closer, and the older woman barely concealed an eye roll at the choice of words before giving her husband a sharp look at the shudder of laughter she could see shaking his shoulders. “Do /not/ encourage her, Bobby. Her father sent a raven about making sure she actually went to Kings Landing rather than running off to Rufus Greyjoy’s or to turn back around and run away with Gordon Clegane /again/.”

“And we will make sure she gets to Kings Landing safely, dear, that doesn’t mean the antics aren’t amusing.” Robert Tully glances back across at her, hand squeezing hers gently for a moment before guiding her along the path towards the closest sandstone bench to sit on and wait for the young Lannister. “Ser William and the Rosby acolyte are both heading that way to see the King, I’m sure that they may be able to keep her…in hand.”

Ellen doesn’t understand the joke of his words for a few seconds until she turns to see the knight in question and her niece coming down the path. The young blonde woman bouncing with each step the knight makes from over his shoulder, feet striking out. It takes all of her composure and control to refrain from batting his shoulder as the Tully pair wait for the others to arrive. The moment the knight sets the younger woman down, he gets a fist forcefully punched into his stomach which makes Ellen grind her teeth to see.

When it looks like there’s about to be another fist thrown, the older woman gives a sharp cough - something which would had stilled her sweet daughter had she been there - and waits for Joanna to turn about as well. Instead there is another punch towards the knight, large hands engulfing the smaller ones before they can hit. Coughing again, Ellen frowns at the Lannister girl as she finally turns around and seems to shrink back from herself and her husband beside her.

“Thank you, ser, for finding Joanna for us. We were very concerned when we did not see her /despite/ her father’s raven saying she would be visiting on her way past.” The amusement was far too obvious in Robert’s tone in her opinion, getting him another sharp glance before Ellen turned her attention back to the grumpy girl at the same time her husband did. “Why you have changed since the last time we saw you, Joanna. I’d swear you’re the splitting image of Deja in that dress - aside from the hair, of course.”

“Well that was kind of the whole point.” Joanna snaps back, the mulish set of her chin making Ellen wish that the girl’s father had actually learnt to say no to his child like herself and Bobby had with Deja. While they may dote on their daughter, Ellen was certain from Jo’s actions and the whispers she’d heard about her from family and friends that William Lannister had spoilt the girl rotten and let her run wild. As the blonde elbowed the knight beside her sharply in the ribs at his eye roll, she was even surer of it. “You know, get in, find someone heading away from that forsaken cesspit that’s so very fitting of our /lovely/ King, and hitch a ride with them until Grandfather forgets I was supposed to be there.”

“Watch your tongue, young lady, especially to where you /are/ headed. The new King is not nearly as forgiving as his father was.” Ellen’s tone slips into the lecturing tone she hadn’t needed to use for her own daughter in several years since Deja threw her shoe at her handmaiden at thirteen in a fit over a dress. As Joanna opens her mouth as though to continue arguing, the older woman glances at the man beside her and nods her head at the rather awkward looking knight standing a few steps away from the rest.

Both Tully’s look over the man for a moment, as the young noble woman starts smart mouthing back. Robert gives a small head jerk in return before addressing William, speaking loudly over Jo’s continuing arguments. “Ser William, I heard you were being paid to accompany Acolyte Rosby back to the Citadel now he has studied our warring plans and strategies.”

“Uh, yes Lord Tully. We are headed back to the Citadel through Kings Landing and Highgarden the day after tomorrow once the final recordings are done.” The tall knight looks a little surprised at being addressed, eyes dancing between both Robert and Ellen’s faces to try and gather what the train of thought would be. He was careful to avoid looking at the small woman beside him, which amuses the elder one. “Harry’s friend requested that we stop by and speak with his brother and sister on his behalf regarding some personal matters with the family.”

Joanna was frowning as Ellen’s face broke out into a smile, sharing a look with her husband. Standing and moving towards her niece, the older woman glances over her shoulder at Bobby as she threads her arm through the other woman’s arm. “I think, William, that you and my lord should talk about your travel plans while I accompany my niece inside to get her sorted for her trip on to Kings Landing.”

It’s not until the pair are walking away through the garden towards the closest wing that Jo actually speaks up again, jerking her arm from her aunt’s hand. “I’m not going to court, Aunt, I’m not suited to be there.”

“That’s more than abundantly clear, but you can’t just run away into the wilderness every time you don’t like what you’re required to do.” Ellen sighs quietly as she comes to a stop beside the younger woman, brows furrowed as she considers the defiant look on the other’s face. She was nothing like her own daughter, and unlike Deja who was thriving in the cut-throat court from the strange mix of sweetness and ruthlessness she had - the chances of Joanna sinking like a rock were undeniable. “Lord Anthony will not take no for an answer the next time if you flee /again/, and even my and /your mother’s/ father is pressuring your father now.”

The Lannister seemingly kicks her heels from the rustling of skirts and stones, the harsh growl at Ellen’s words did not suggest she may actually listen. Catching Jo’s arm again, the elder begins to walk the both of them forwards towards the closest castle door, looking about cautiously before speaking even quieter. “Court is not like it has been in seasons and your father will want you home soon if you don’t try to run again.” Pausing at the doorway, even as the blonde continues to look grumpy and upset about it, she considers for a second to just let her go and send a letter back to her father that she hadn’t seen the girl until the idea of abandoning her sister’s daughter gnawed at her heart. Sighing, Ellen holds onto the other’s elbows, looking at her carefully. “So, am I writing to your father about your going onto Kings Landing, or am I writing to him to have him come and /escort/ you there?”

—

“So, tell me again what made you agree to take on protecting a runaway Lannister?” Huffing, he hisses the words to the knight riding beside him so that the woman in question couldn’t hear. As they’d had gotten through the outer gates of Riverrun Castle that very morning Joanna had claimed the spot at the front of the small party, almost clipping the acolyte with her riding crop as she pushed her way past him without even a wave of acknowledgement let alone the demure, teary apologies that he had seen ladies at court bestow whenever they were seen doing something unladylike.

Watching the blonde ahead, bouncing happily in her saddle without complaints despite their having been continuously on the road for several house, Harry Rosby couldn’t help but think having her along was asking for trouble. “All I’ve ever heard was bad things about the Lannisters, William - that you cannot trust them not to throw you for the right price.”

“She’s just a /girl/, Harry, she’s not evil or wicked.” Harry doesn’t like the laugh his friend gives as they exchange looks, him giving a withering look at the blond’s barely concealed smirk. “And even if she were, trust me when I say I can handle any trouble, or fists, she might throw at us.”

The acolyte isn’t sure what to make of the cocky tone or amused looks on the other’s face - the hedge knight typically more soft spoken and humble about his skills and abilities. Shrugging it off, the shorter man slows his horse to a trot alongside his friend to give a little more space between them and their new charge to talk. “What if you couldn’t though? My friend-”

“The Targaryen bastard?”

“My /friend/ thinks her family are dangerous. And that you were asked to.. chaperone her trip into the city because of her last guards going missing doesn’t really help in her case.” Harry gives William a glare at his interruption, half wishing the other could take him seriously for once. Coughing, the still brisk air from the morning getting to his weaker lungs, the acolyte turns his eyes to focus on the woman and her horse prancing ahead of them, unsure about their charge.

“Isn’t your friend a Targaryen? You /do/ know that the, uh, madness runs in that family, right?” William’s eyes were fixated on the woman in front of them, either keeping check that the infamous runner wasn’t planning a break for it or something else - Harry wasn’t sure. But his dismissal of Harry’s friend made the shorter man hiss a breath out through his teeth, more like a whistle than a sigh, causing all three horses to pull up and flick their ears towards him. “Pretty sure she is nothing but a bratty Lady-to-be who has yet to hear the word ‘no’ from a man.”

“Suppose you’ll be the one to do it, Ser Nobody of Nowhere.” The voice surprises him as the blonde calls back to them, glancing over her shoulder at the pair of them. After the last two tense dinners at the sandstone castle where she didn’t speak a word to anyone and left after poking her food around her plate, Harry almost thought she had no voice. “That is, if you’re able to keep up with a bratty Lady-to-be.” Her eyes meet his for a second as her words sink in before she’s gone - kicking her heels into her palomino to sprint along and down the road away from them.

“The Seven curse her!” The growl comes from the knight beside him and then William is urging his stallion after the blonde horse and rider, hoping to catch her before she can reach the crossroads just in the distance and leaving the acolyte trailing along after.

Giving a quiet sigh as he watches the pair galloping away down the path, Harry continues on at the slower pace and wishes he had some calmer travelling companions, wishing his fellow acolyte was with him. Of course that wasn’t possible with the tensions around the new king coming to power and with the well known hated between both brothers, but Harry couldn’t help but think it would have been beneficial for their research as well as the pleasant company on the roads back.

He wasn’t sure what the other was going to think of what he was bringing back with him, considering the results of their research to be completely fruitless himself. Harry was sick of racing across the country at the first whisper of someone with control over the world around them or the dead reappearing amongst the living - only for the tales to be little more than false reports or lies. But his colleague saw something that he could not understand, a pattern and a wisdom that Harry could not read behind them until the soft spoken Targaryen would lay it out for him, and that kept them both going in their studies for their Valyrian steel link.

Looking up from the path before him, Harry frowns spotting the two figures tugging and pulling at one another in the midst of the road as he drew closer and closer to where they were paused and arguing. Letting out another sigh, the acolyte joins the pair just as a small tanned hand raises up as though to swing out at the other.

“My father always approved of striking a woman who was out of place, Lady Joanna,” The coolness in William’s tone as Harry arrives beside him and glances between the heated glares each were giving each other chills him before the knight continues, his hands wrapped tightly around the reins of the runaway, “And he would show such approval to my mother frequently. I strive not to repeat his mistakes, and you have been allowed to lash out several times, but do not force my hand back.”

The girl swallows thickly, hand still lifted as though she were about to hit out at him as they fight it out through looks alone - until finally she pulls away with a snarl. Harry wasn’t aware he was holding his breath and cautiously moves between the pair without looking towards the seething hedge knight. “Now I think we have had just about enough adventure thus far, milady and ser. The sooner we arrive in Kings Landing, the sooner all three of us can part our separate ways, correct?”

William continues to glare towards her though, his stallion pawing aggressively at the ground as he drops his grasp on the reins and waves a hand with a flourish at both of the other travellers. “Ladies first.”

Ignoring the biting tone seemingly was harder for Joanna than it was for him, as both lady and acolyte turn their horses back along the path and set off at a steady pace abreast the road. Glancing behind them, Harry notices the hedge knight rubbing at his face for a moment before he turns his attention back to the woman beside who was staring ahead with gritted teeth.

Coughing to clear his throat, though it turns into a real cough after a second, the dark haired man looks behind him again to see the knight trailing after them with the same stubborn set to his face as Joanna’s. Looking back front ways, Harry once again wishes that his friend was along on the trip as well because at least he would have known how to stop the fighting before the entire trip became an awkward three day journey on the first day.

—

Watching lips pleading and gasping for air, his mouth curls upwards into a perverse grin as his hand tightens across the young woman’s throat. There’s a flicker in her blue eyes as she stares up at him, fighting between her training and her need to survive, before the girl lashes out at his arm to scratch him with her nails. He snarls back at her, closing his fingers around her neck and jerking her head around with his other until he hears a snap.

Letting go of the woman, her lifeless body sagging to the floor, the dark haired man reaches down to wipe the flecks of blood off of his hands on the flimsy fabric left on her body. “Tut tut, little whore, you were so close to getting out alive.” Gray shakes his head, stepping over the bloody corpse and moves towards his wash room. The full court was supposed to be meeting to greet several new arrivals shortly, but the constant pleasantries to come had made his fun last a little longer than usual in preparation for it.

As he rinses off his hands and arms, King Jeffrey “Gray” Targaryen turns his head to the side and smiles at the smear of red down that one of the girls’ bloody hands had left. He can hear that girl - too young and homely looking just now for him to want to play his usual games with - whimpering in the corner away from the other whores’ bodies. “Did you enjoy the show, sweetheart, or maybe you enjoyed participating more.” Catching a glimpse of the girl in the shining mirrored surface before him, the king smirks noticing the shivers of terror his words brought out.

Laughing to himself, Jeffrey ignores the knocking on his chamber door as he pulls on a clean dark red tunic and moves past the two whores still bleeding and breathing heavily on the floor to the silently sobbing girl. She probably wasn’t even fourteen, and stroking her cheek gently despite her shaking, the king grins down at her almost kindly. “Shh, little one, nothing bad is going to happen to you just yet. And by then you may just know how to avoid ending up like… what was the redhead’s name again?” When it looks like the girl was about to stammer out a name, he is already standing up, dropping his hand and tugging his sleeves down. “Oh right, ‘a whore’.”

Retrieving his fitted leather jerkin and heading out of his chambers, past the kingsguard looking slightly ill and to the louder and louder crying as he moves along the corridor towards the main court, the king smirks all the wider. The day was at least starting off well for him - though as he drew closer to the Great Hall, his face falls as the servants and guards around do not divert their gaze as often as they do closer to his rooms. Seemingly the safety of new arrivals was enough to dispel the fear the screams of both pleasure and pain that came from his bedroom. He would fix that.

“Brother dearest, where have you been hiding this morning? I missed you at breakfast.” Hearing his sister’s voice makes him sigh deeply, smile dropping completely from his face as he glances down at her as he finishes buckling his leather jacket together. The princess was smiling back at him though, with the same wide eyed happiness that she got whenever something excited her ever since they were children. “I was hoping that we could talk about my new presents coming.”

“Presents?” Jeffrey’s disinterest is obvious as the pair continue towards the Small Council chambers, the sounds of the court moving within the Great Hall slowly increasing the closer they got. “What presents are you supposed to be getting?”

Princess Shada grins up at him, moving to thread her arm through his - barely slipping her hand through before he’s jerking his arm away from her. She pouts, like she always did, and gives a quiet huff. “Lord Lannister is sending me a new lady in waiting. A bit overdue if you ask me, I added the cousin Tully girl to my collection years ago. If I recall correctly, brother, you got bored of her within a month.”

It takes a moment for him to put a face to the name as they reach the antechamber of sorts to the Hall, glancing towards the closed entrance before reclining back into the nearest armchair rather than deal with the madness of court just yet. The dark hair and eyes of the Tully girl, wavy strands of hair that would get matted at the slightest tug and her crying from even a single spank. “Not hard to get bored with someone so…”

“Gentile?” The brunette smirks a little back at him, sinking down to sit on the arm rest beside him, small hands picking up his and resting it within her lap. “You know, I haven’t had a new lady in a long while - so many of their father’s were scared before our father died and now you’re terrifying them all away even more!”

“This one must be exceptionally dull if the Lannister’s aren’t afraid to lose her.” He grunts the words out, tilting his head back a little to take in his sister. Twisting his hand over, he traces the pattern of intricate flowers along her skirt before trailing up her thigh with a smirk. “I’ll let you have her back as soon as her crying bores me.”

Shada stares down at his hand for a moment, whatever she was thinking cleverly hidden, before moving to stand up a few steps away from him after his hand trails higher up her thigh. Glaring down at him, the dark haired girl sniffs. “I think that may be much longer than I’d like to wait for her - she is supposed to be the one waiting on me, not the other way around. And that isn’t the only present coming from what I hear.”

The king frowns at her, standing sharply as the younger woman steps backwards further. Moving closer, backing towards the closest wall and smirking cruelly as he leans into the smaller one, Jeffrey reaches out to stroke a lock of dark hair as he speaks softly, “Little sister, what exactly is your other present then - since you will not share your first one with your /dear/ brother?”

“News from my /other/ dear brother, actually.” Shada’s smile drops completely, avoiding his eye as she speaks; and Jeffrey tightens his grip and tugs on the strands of hair in his grasp as she does so in anger. “Mother says that a raven arrived, and there’s supposed to be an acolyte coming today to reply back with.”

Gritting his teeth and releasing Shada, the king shoves back away from her and tugs his sleeves back fully into place before moving away towards the door into the Great Hall. “Well now, isn’t that going to be exciting for us all.”

—

“My grace, presenting to you Lady Joanna of Lannisport, Acolyte Harry Rosby from the Citadel, and Ser William Baelish.”

Jo’s nose wrinkles as she hears the announcement, shifting a few steps backwards from the large doors until the press of a large hand against her back stills her. Swallowing, she doesn’t need to look behind her to know it was the knight’s hand stopping her from running away yet again. It had taken three extra days for the small group to make it to Kings Landing, and she wasn’t even a little ashamed of being responsible for every single one of them.

The doors open before them, and it is only the taller man’s grip on the back of her rich red and gold chiffon dress that also pushes her forward along the path towards the royals, past the other members of court lounging and standing about. Her eyes fixate on the dark throne and its inhabitant as she focuses on breathing evenly and slowing the meeting down as much as she could possibly get away with even at this last time.

“I swear I will carry you the rest of the way /again/ if you don’t pick up your feet, milady.” The quiet growl into her ear makes her tense up further, heels digging into the stone flooring as best as they can while the acolyte looks across at her with a confused frown. Neither man seemed to understand her reluctance to join the court, and Jo silently wishes she could be as ignorant as the pair of them.

Stumbling slightly forward when William pushes at her to keep them moving, the blonde doesn’t show outwardly for one moment the fumble for her footing, though her stare at the king she’d never met breaks with her stumble. Glancing around the crowds, Joanna spots her cousin - looking so similar to herself in facial looks - near the dais and sneering at her from behind the princess’ shoulder. There was a man who looked like her grandfather towards the front on the west side of the hall, eyebrows furrowed and focused onto the three of them before glancing towards the throne and back again.

Joanna scowls back at him at the recognition and look of disapproval, barely controlling herself from storming away in a huff of anger and flowing material the way she would whenever her father and she got into a fight.

“A lady, a knight and an acolyte walk into a hall. Sounds like the start of a joke, doesn’t it.” The warmth in the king’s voice surprises her, eyes drawn back to the tall, dark haired man reclining in the cold Iron Throne when they finally reach the edge of the dais. Jo tilts her head, curiosity creeping in and getting the better of her as she stares back at him, not breaking eye contact even as she bobs a curtsy alongside the other two’s bows.

There’s a raucous laughter through the hall which catches her companion’s attention as the pair of them glance around at the laughing court, but she doesn’t stop looking back at the smirking man before her. She almost feels a little bad for him that such large reactions would come for him, not out of love but out of fear; shoulders relaxing as she takes a step away from the knight behind her as his hand had dropped.

“Not a very good one though.” Joanna’s not aware she was speaking until the silence falls through the hall again, biting tightly on her lip when she realises until catching the horrified and angry look upon her grandfather’s face. She doesn’t look back at the king, eyes focusing upon the man who forced her there away from her home as she adds sharply, “More than a little predictable an outcome really. The acolyte returns to the Citadel, the knight to his adventures.. and the lady throws herself off of the walls into the ocean to escape whatever awaits her.”

Fisting her hands within the folds of her skirts as she speaks, the blonde’s head jerks back around to look at the king at the sound of boots on stone and footfalls coming closer to her; blinking in surprise as he appears right before her, almost looming over her. Although there was the weedy acolyte to her left and the gigantic blond knight behind her, and hundreds of other nobility around the hall, Jo never felt more alone and defenceless as she was right at that moment staring back at him boldly.

She swallows again, gritting her teeth as the king moves closer, observing her in a way that makes Joanna almost feel like she were a cow in the paddocks of a butchers considering her slaughter or a man with a pocket full of gold in a whorehouse. “That sounds like my kind of joke, Lady Joanna. And I do so look forward to watching the outcome of your time here at court with my sister come to fruition.” The blonde shudders when he leans in closer to her, lips brushing the outer shell of her ear as he speaks in a deep, dark whisper promising more than just the words, though whether out of fear or something worse she’s not entirely sure. “So, do you promise to deliver the punch line correctly, little lioness?“

—

“Not like /that/, you idiot!” The shriek came loudly, followed by the metal brush being pulled from the princess’ hair by her hand and smacked against the other woman’s hand with a loud whack. “Did your mother not teach you anything in that plush castle of yours? All that gold seep up and rot your brain?”

Another sharp whack hit across the newest lady-in-waiting’s knuckles as the dark haired princess jerked out of her chair - a lucky thing too as the blonde’s fingers twitched out and reach as though to jerk her hair in response to the hits. One second more and the Master of Coin’s granddaughter would have found herself before the court.

Shada Targaryen didn’t notice though, feet firmly set on her path towards her bed as she flopped forwards onto the downy covers. This girl was hopeless, she didn’t understand at all why her mother sent this incompetent moron to join her ladies in waiting, nor why her brother kept asking if she was sick of her yet so he could play with the dumb blonde. As if Shada would ever admit to him that was the truth, he always took her playthings, and even if this one was a complete idiot, Shada wasn’t going to forego another of her things for him without a fight.

Even though the princess didn’t notice, the other dark haired girl in the room did. Moving across the room to grab her cousin’s hands and give her a sharp glare, Deja Tully laughed at her friend’s comments. “Oh Shada, you are a riot! My poor cousin only grew up with her brutish father, guess she never learnt anything about the finer things in life.”

“Is that true?” The princess jerks up, staring at the two cousins who looked so similar looking back at her. Her new girl, blonder than anyone in the court baring Shada’s own fair-haired cousins who were still at the breast, looked surprisingly upset for some reason, eyes glistening with unshed tears and a dark look almost like hatred directed at both of them. “Is that why your hair is always in such a bland design, and you always have those breeches on beneath your skirts? What happened to your mother, who was there to teach you about anything important if she wasn’t around? Your maester or ladies maids?”

Shada’s head tilted curiously, crawling back across her massive bed towards the other two, patting the covers to encourage them both across. She had always desired female friends growing up, and not just female servants or courtiers. Being a princess, everyone always was happy and eager to be seen as friendly with her; but the older she got the clearer it became that those her parents surrounded her with never had their smiles reach their eyes. Since then, she’s searched to have true friends in her life.

When Deja Tully was sent to the court and was able to avoid her brother’s interest so quickly, the dark haired girl had quickly become the only person the princess was truly open around. Her brown eyes were always full of life when she smiled, and was quick to share a joke with Shada through a quirk of an eyebrow or lips. It was as if her parent’s had truly gifted her when the girl’s cousin was due to be sent, but how wrong Shada thought they were.

A shove of a sharp elbow made the blonde girl move, glaring at her cousin as they both sat to either side of the dark haired princess, hands white knuckled in her lap. “No. My father was the one who taught me everything, he wasn’t away from Lannisport often at all after… After my mother passed.” Shada heard the girl swallow before adding quietly, “I didn’t need any ladies maids. You need to be a fu- damn lady to have a ladies maid.”

Shada and DJ giggled together at the almost sailors words, not often used within the Red Keep aside from the drunkard or men at arms. To hear it from a lord’s daughter gave her a thrill, that perhaps her new lady-in-waiting could be a fun plaything if not a friend like her cousin.

“Her mother got killed on her way back home to our grandparent’s in Highgarden back when the Lannister’s got too big for the boots!” Deja whispered conspiratorially in Shada’s ear, sharing a glance at the other girl looking sullen and sulky. “Her father is /the/ Lord William Lannister. You know the one who…”

The princess hid a gasp behind a hand, trying not to laugh before turning to the other girl with all the grace her mother had taught her. Resting her hand down on the other girl’s hands, Shada said as regally as she could muster, “Oh don’t you worry about any court gossip or questions any further, Joanna dear, you’re my lady-in-waiting now and your cousin is the best I have ever had. We shan’t let anyone speak any further about the disgrace your father has experienced.” Sharing a glance with Deja, the sweetness in Shada’s voice hid the conspiratorial look they shared. “Run along to your rooms and don’t worry about this evening. Your dear cousin will show you the ropes one day of how to dress and style yourself for court more appropriately.”

Watching the steely look on the blonde’s face as she got up and left, if it weren’t for the fact Princess Shada had dismissed her it would have almost have felt like the girl had stormed out of the royal chamber.

As soon as the door clicked shut after the curious look in from the guard outside, Shada and Deja collapsed together into laughter upon the bed at the crudeness and boyishness of the other. Fingers curled together lightly, both girls lay back beneath the canopy to giggle and gossip the night away.

—