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Outside, the sun was setting. The city below was bathed in shades of red and orange that reminded me too much of the flames in the Weeping Town. Well then…
I kept that particular set of upsetting thoughts away as I made my way toward the Tower of the Hand.
It was early enough that the castle was still well alive. I ran across more servants in five minutes of walking then had worked for the past three generations at Evenfall Hall. Guards also stood at every corner, eyes forward, hands resting on sword hilts, while courtiers in fine clothes moved in small groups, whispering behind their hands. More than a few glanced at me as I passed.
I kept my pace steady. Not too fast, like I was fleeing something. Not too slow, like I was skulking. Then I felt so awkward that I just abandoned it all after a few seconds. I couldn't let the eyes of the busybodies around here get to my head.
The Tower of the Hand rose from the western bailey, connected to the main keep by a covered walkway. As I approached, two Lannister guards in crimson cloaks and lion-crested breastplates straightened at attention.
"Ser Galladon Tarth," one of them said.
"That's right," I said.
"Welcome, ser." The other guard pulled open the heavy door. "You're expected."
Inside, the entrance hall was well-lit with torches and had that particular smell of beeswax and polish that spoke of wealth. Tapestries showing Lannister victories lined the walls. The floor was spotless.
And standing there, waiting, was a knight I recognized.
"Ser Sarek," I said, unable to hide my surprise. "I did not expect to see you here."
Ser Sarek Hill turned at the sound of my voice, and his face broke into a wide smile. Broad-shouldered like I remembered, with distinctive straw-colored hair and enough of a noble-bearing to mark him as some bastard of a random Lantell or a Lanny or a Lannett.
"Lord Galladon." He caught himself, shook his head. "Ser Galladon! An honor to see you again, ser."
He gave me a deeper bow than propriety demanded, almost excessive.
I offered him a forearm instead, which he eagerly clasped. "Ser Gerion is in King's Landing, then?" I asked.
"Aye, ser. He'll be joining you tonight for supper."
"I see." I paused, thinking. "I'd thought he would return to Casterly Rock to recuperate, given the circumstances."
The circumstances being that he'd nearly died from poison in Sunspear. That I'd helped save his life, though the real hero had been Prince Oberyn who'd identified the toxin and done enough to remedy its effects.
"So had I, ser," Sarek said. "But Ser Gerion was strong enough to take ship again after a few weeks. And he wished to see to his duties here in the capital. Didn't want to leave Lord Tywin without family in King's Landing once he arrived, he said."
"A dutiful man is to be admired." I meant it, too. Gerion could have taken months to recover. Could have used the poisoning as an excuse to return home and avoid the cesspool of court politics. "And you, ser, how go your own duties? All is well after our little adventure, I hope?"
"Aye, ser." Sarek's chest puffed up slightly. "Ser Gerion has made me the captain of his guard. And here in King's Landing, I'm second only to Lord Tywin's own captain."
"That so?" I forced a smile. "I'm glad, then. It bodes well for House Lannister to have such competent men guarding them."
The bastard knight beamed at me with his brightest smile yet. He was a good and honest fellow, I knew. Loyal, a bit brave. But not one I'd trust my life with, if I was being completely honest.
I'd already seen his work back in Sunspear and judged it… adequate at best. He'd been part of Gerion's guard when the Tyroshi pirate attacked. Had been there when that same pirate was poisoned under his nose. Hadn't prevented either incident.
Still, no reason to be rude with the man and speak my thoughts to his face.
"I am glad you are well too, m'lord," Sarek said. "We all heard about what happened to your lady mother. And how you took that Whitehead whoreson's castle by yourself."
"Oh?" I kept my tone light.
"Aye. The other lads here in the keep couldn't believe it, but me and the men who fought on the Western Will set them straight, ser, we did." His eyes were bright with enthusiasm. "If there's any knight in the kingdoms I could believe took out an entire town and castle, it's Ser Galladon Tarth, I told them."
I laughed awkwardly. It seemed I wasn't completely immune to flattery, since I caught myself thinking that perhaps I'd judged him too harshly. That Ser Sarek Hill wasn't so incompetent after all.
He had the right ideas, at least.
"It wasn't single-handedly, ser, I assure you," I said. "But I'm thankful you defended my honor. It was a trying time, to be sure. But the lives and well-being of my family are all that matter to me."
Sarek nodded vigorously. "Ser Gerion lit seven candles for your mother at the Great Sept of Baelor when word came, ser. And we all said our prayers as well."
I felt my eyebrows rise. "Gerion at the Sept?"
That was certainly interesting. Fair to say I didn't know him too well, but from my time with him, I hadn't taken the man for the religious sort. He'd seemed more interested in wine and voyages and the occasional philosophical conversation.
"Aye, ser." Sarek's grin widened. "Methinks 'twas his brush with the Stranger that did it. Maybe the ser saw the Father or the Mother as he lay feverish." He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or maybe 'twas the Princess coming to pray for him that had him confused with the Maiden visiting his dreams."
I did my best not to miss a step. We'd started walking toward the stairs, and I nearly stumbled.
"Princess Elia?"
My voice came out so surprised that Sarek caught himself as well. He scratched the back of his head and gave me an embarrassed look.
"Aye, well, I suppose I'm not meant to go around spreading it." He shrugged, lowered his voice further, and took a step closer. "But Ser Gerion didn't make it a secret to anyone either. He met with Princess Elia plenty after you left, m'lord. Always had the biggest smile on his face when I announced her visits." Sarek's expression turned almost fond. "It kept his spirits alive, I think. Seeing her and all."
I didn't get a coherent answer out as we climbed the stairs. All that left my mouth was a "Huh" of utter bewilderment.
My mind was racing. Elia and Gerion. Together. Repeatedly.
Discounting the fact that Ser Sarek Hill was not only a questionable sworn shield but apparently a terrible gossip as well—though I wouldn't complain so long as he gossiped to me—it struck me that I might have just caused the biggest change to the timeline yet without ever meaning to.
Elia and Gerion. My mind couldn't help but wreck itself with the possibilities.
In the original timeline, Elia had married Rhaegar and given him two children, only to die screaming when the Mountain crushed her skull after murdering her babies.
But what if she didn't marry Rhaegar this time? What if she married Gerion instead?
Would Rhaegar simply marry Lyanna Stark? Would the rebellion still happen? Would—
I shook my head hard enough that Sarek gave me a concerned look. I wasn't trying to go down that rabbit hole again. Not here. Not now.
Besides, it didn't mean anything would happen. Princess Elia herself had spoken of her previous fondness for Gerion during her visit to Casterly Rock years ago. But she'd also hinted to Oberyn that Prince Doran might not approve of the match.
And Doran ruled Sunspear now. Which meant any business of marriages and alliances for his siblings would have to go through him.
A Lannister was a solid match for any lady of the realm. Great house, wealthy beyond measure, powerful connections. But a fourth son with no lands or titles? To a Martell Princess?
I didn't think so. Not while the possibility of snatching up the ultimate prize, the heir to the Iron Throne, still roamed in the form of an unwed Rhaegar Targaryen.
Doran Martell was ambitious enough to aim for that match. And I had no doubt he'd had a hand in the betrothal in the original timeline.
Sarek seemed awkward at my long silence. He filled it with more talking, the way some people did when they were nervous.
"Not that you didn't have your own admirers either, m'lord. Not at all." He spoke quickly, almost tripping over his words. "The Dayne lady came to inquire more than once about you, you see."
I blinked. "Ashara?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Aye, ser, the very same. I told her we only met briefly, but she asked all the same. Wanted to know about your disposition when there were no ladies around, you see. And about the fighting with the pirates. How you acquitted yourself." He gave me another apologetic look. "She asked twice about that. And I told it all, ser. Hard not to, I'll say. She has a pretty smile, the lady has. But she seemed happy with what I said."
Once again, Ser Sarek managed to make a mute out of me.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I could feel it, damn it. Though I'd admit to it only under torture.
Ashara had been asking about me. About my character. About how I fought. That was… that was interest, wasn't it? Not just polite curiosity.
I recovered from my Dornish-induced stupor faster this time.
"Yes, yes" I said. Then shook myself. "I mean, I see. Yes, I see. I can only thank you, then, ser, for speaking well on my behalf."
He smiled widely. "Of course, m'lord. Didn't even have to lie either. 'Twas a brave and gallant deed, your fighting at the ships. Worthy of a song if I have any say over it."
Ser Sarek was looking at me like a boy staring at a superhero. Bright-eyed and eager.
Gathering myself, I awarded him with my best smile and a friendly clap on the shoulder, which seemed to be enough payment for him. He climbed up the last steps to our final destination with his shoulders squared and his chest puffed up like a rooster.
At the right landing, two more guards stepped aside as we approached a stout wooden door. Ser Sarek stopped me just before opening it.
"I believe Lord Tywin, Ser Gerion, and Lord Baratheon are still in Lord Tywin's solar, ser," he said. "But the lady will be within."
I paused. "The lady?"
He tilted his head at me, as if I'd just asked an obvious question. "Aye, ser. Lady Cersei Lannister."
Then the door was opening and I was stepping through the threshold.
The room beyond was well-appointed. Rich furnishings, thick carpets, tapestries showing lions in various heroic poses. A table set for dinner, laden with covered dishes that smelled incredible.
And to the side, lounging amidst an array of red and gold cushions on a window seat, an eleven-year-old girl stared at me the way a very small, very haughty cat stares at a rat who'd just walked into the wrong home.
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