I was still reeling from the conversation with Ser Gerold, my mind swimming through the implications, when someone stepped into my path.
I almost jumped.
"There you are!" Gerion Lannister stood in the hallway, his one good eye bright with concern. "I've been looking for you all over. We had practice scheduled at dawn, remember? I was even earlier than the sun this time, as my mentor commanded."
He paused, finally getting a good look at me in the morning light streaming through the open shutters.
"What the bloody hell happened to you?" His eye focused on my bruised face. "You look like you've been trampled by a Dothraki horde. Did someone try to kill you?"
I shook myself, trying to organize my thoughts. "Uh, nothing much. Just had a strange encounter with a Kingsguard."
"A Kingsguard?" Gerion suddenly laughed, the sound echoing in the corridor. "Must you always get yourself chest-deep in madness, my friend? Seriously, what happened? Which one was foolish enough to take you on?"
I turned to him, considering. "You really want to know?"
Gerion nodded ferociously. "Absolutely. This sounds like it'll be a good story."
"Very well, then." I started walking, not caring much where I was going as long as it was away from the White Sword Tower. "Help me out with a few things and I'll tell you everything."
Gerion raised an eyebrow, falling into step beside me. "Does it involve fighting another Kingsguard?" He pointed to his eyepatch. "As we've established, I'm in no position to help with that particular activity."
"Not this time, no." I picked up my pace. "Let's just say I've had enough of King's Landing for a good long while."
xxx
Under different circumstances, the tour of the city we embarked on would've been rather enjoyable.
Gerion helped me secure horses from the Tower of the Hand's stables and we rode out through the River Gate and into the chaos of King's Landing proper.
As we navigated the crowded streets, I told him the whole story. Going to the White Sword Tower to retrieve my sword. Ser Gerold Hightower answering the door looking like I'd personally insulted his mother. The brutal fist fight in the hidden courtyard.
"He thought you came to mock him about stealing his sword?" Gerion wheezed with laughter, nearly falling off his horse. "Gods, that's beautiful. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the White Bull's anger."
"It gets worse," I said.
So I told him about Malora Hightower's letter to her grand uncle asking him to keep an eye on me. Ser Gerold's interrogation about my intentions toward his grand-niece. The whole ordeal.
Naturally, I left out the glass candle. That was a secret that needed to stay buried.
By the time I finished, we'd reached the docks. The smell of salt and fish and tar was overwhelming, mixed with the general stink of the city. Hundreds of ships crowded the harbor, merchant cogs and fishing boats and war galleys from a dozen different ports.
"So now the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard thinks you're courting a Hightower?" Gerion summarized, still grinning. "And he threatened to torture you if you dishonor her?"
"That's the gist of it, yes."
"This is amazing. You have the best luck with women." He wiped tears from his good eye. "First Ashara Dayne asking about you in Sunspear. Now Malora Hightower writing letters. What's next? The queen herself?"
An image of a silver-haired goddess came to mind, only to be shattered by the mad cackles of her husband. A shudder ran through me.
"Don't even joke about that," I muttered.
Without spotting any of my house's own ships, it took us half an hour of searching before I found what I needed—a merchant captain willing to take on a passenger. The ship was called the Golden Arrow, bound for Driftmark and then down the coast with stops at several ports including Tarth.
The bastard asked three gold dragons for a cabin. Highway robbery for a short voyage, but I paid it. Worth every coin to get out of this city.
With passage secured, we rode to the markets, where I enlisted Gerion on helping me pick out gifts for my family.
For Lord Selwyn, we found a fine leather-bound book on the history of the Stormlands. For my mother, a bolt of deep blue silk from Yi Ti that cost more than the ship passage. For Alysanne, a beautifully carved wooden harp. For Arianne, I selected a small collection of colored inks and fine paper for writing.
"What about the lovely Lady Cersei?" Gerion asked as we loaded the purchases onto our horses. "Surely you should bring her something as well. A token of your esteem."
I stared at him. "Why would I do that?"
"Because my dear niece has clearly taken an interest in you." He grinned. "Trust me, Cersei only gets angry when she's interested. And because it's good politics to maintain friendly relations with the daughter of the Hand of the King, no?"
After all the talk about marriage with Ser Gerold, the idea of buying gifts for an eleven-year-old Cersei Lannister felt deeply disturbing. I didn't think I'd survive another interrogation so soon, not one run by Tywin Lannister.
But Gerion was adamant, so I selected a small silver hair clasp shaped like a lion. Expensive enough to show respect, practical enough not to seem like I was courting a child.
Gods, this city was making me paranoid.
Our next stop was the Great Sept of Baelor. Gerion insisted.
I'd seen it from a distance but never entered. Up close, it was even more impressive. Seven crystal towers rose into the sky, each representing one of the Seven. The sept itself was built of white marble that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.
Inside, it was breathtaking. Light streamed through stained glass windows, painting the floors in rainbows. The ceilings soared impossibly high, decorated with intricate carvings and gold leaf. Hundreds of candles burned before statues of the Seven.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gerion said quietly as we stood in the main hall.
"It is," I admitted.
I had always wondered about the Seven compared to the other gods of this world. The Lord of Light had certainly shown his teeth from time to time, and the magic of the First Men was undeniable. Who could say if that was a natural thing or a power bestowed by the old gods.
But the Seven? Not a peep from them, yet they were still the most dominant religion of the continent. There had to be something about them, right? I would be a fool to disrespect them, at least, for both supernatural and political reasons.
So after admiring the hall, we first lit candles before the Warrior and the Father, then Gerion also spent a long time in prayer before the Maiden, his lips moving silently. I tried to catch what he was saying, hoping for some clue about Princess Elia, but he kept his voice too low.
When I tried to ask him directly as we left—"So, how's your own search for a wife?"—he just smiled and changed the subject.
"Some things are private, my friend. Even from you."
Fair enough.
By the time we returned to the Red Keep, the sun was beginning its descent toward the western horizon. We'd been out most of the day, and I was exhausted. My face throbbed. My knuckles ached. I wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed.
But first, I needed to tell Lord Steffon I was leaving.
Gerion and I found him already installed in sprawling apartments in one of the Red Keep's visitor wings. He and his retinue were occupying a good half of the floor, twenty knights and their attendants, who had been sent by ship before we even left for King's Landing alongside Lord Steffon's own household staff.
The Lord Paramount himself had his own solar and waiting room and bedchamber. The whole deal. A guard at the door recognized us and sent word inside, and we weren't made to wait longer than a couple of minutes before being ushered into the solar.
Lord Steffon sat behind a desk covered in papers and correspondence, looking more tired than usual with dark circles around his eyes. When we entered, his grave expression brightened a bit, as if he welcomed the distraction from heavier matters.
"My lord," I said, bowing. Ser Gerion nodded as well, head low.
"Ser Galladon. Ser Gerion." Smiling, he gestured to the chairs. "To what do I owe the pleasure? And what in seven hells happened to your face, lad?"
"Sparring accident," I said, which was technically true. Grateful to be off my feet, plopped myself down with a sigh. "My lord, I wanted to inform you that I've booked passage back to Tarth. I'll be leaving in two days."
Steffon nodded slowly. "After the events in the great hall yesterday, I think that's prudent. Best to let things settle before you spend more time at court." He paused. "Though I'll be sorry to see you go. You've made quite an impression during your stay."
"That's one way to put it," I muttered.
"I'll be leaving as well in a few moons," Steffon continued. He glanced at Gerion, then back to me. "The king has tasked me with a voyage to Essos. To the Free Cities, and perhaps beyond. To Volantis specifically." His lips thinned.
My heart jumped. Lord Steffon hadn't told us the reason behind the voyage, but I knew why. This was it. The opportunity I'd been hoping for.
I leaned forward. "My lord, I'd like to join you on that voyage."
Both Steffon and Gerion looked at me in surprise.
"Join me?" Steffon asked. "Why?"
"Trade contacts," I said. "I'm trying to expand House Tarth's commercial interests. We've had some success attracting Essosi traders to Dawnrest, but I want to establish direct relationships in the Free Cities. Cut out the middlemen. If I'm traveling with you, under a Lord Paramount's banner, I'll have access to magisters and merchants I could never reach on my own."
Steffon considered this, stroking his beard. "It is not a terrible idea. Growing our presence in the east would only strengthen us. And it would give me another trustworthy sword should we run into trouble."
"I'd join you, if you'll have me," Gerion announced.
We both turned to him.
He shrugged. "What? I've always wanted to see Volantis. And someone needs to keep you two out of trouble."
"Lord Tywin would approve, you think? " I asked.
"He'll survive without me for a few months." Gerion's expression was determined. "I'll head to Tarth in a few weeks after I square everything away with my lord brother. We can travel together when Lord Steffon's fleet comes around."
Steffon laughed. "Well then. It seems I'll have quite the party for this voyage. Very well. I'll send word when we're ready to depart. Probably three or four moons from now. We'll stop at Tarth on the way, pick you both up."
We spent another hour discussing details. What I should bring, what to expect in Volantis, which magisters were worth approaching and which were known to be hostile to Westerosi traders. Gerion seemed to know more about it than both of us Stormlanders.
By the time we left, full darkness had fallen, and I barely made it back to my chambers before collapsing.
xxx
That night, just as I was starting to fall asleep, someone knocked on my door.
I opened it, expecting a servant with a message or perhaps Gerion with some forgotten detail about tomorrow's plans.
Instead, a woman stood there.
She was beautiful in the way that professional beauties tended to be with daring make up and painted lips perfectly designed to appeal. Her dark hair cascaded over her pale shoulders. A silk dress that was less clothing and more suggestion, stretching across gorgeous skin, covering just enough to highlight what lay underneath.
"Good evening, my lord," she purred, already moving toward the doorway. "I was told you might appreciate some company tonight."
I was so dumbstruck for a second that I almost let her in. My sleepy mind had completely shut down, caught between surprise and a very base biological reaction.
Then panic set in.
Was this Melisandre? Under some kind of glamour or illusion charm? Hoping to get access to my potentially magic juices in the old-fashioned way? Or was it Ser Gerold Hightower testing my virtue before the supposed wedding with his grand-niece? Some kind of medieval purity test?
I closed the door in her face and locked it. Hard.
"My lord?" Her voice came through the wood, confused. "Did I—is something wrong?"
"No thank you!" I called back. "I'm fine! Very tired! Goodnight!"
I heard her hesitate on the other side of the door. Then footsteps retreating down the corridor.
My heart pounding, I sat back on the bed, hands over my head.
Safe to say I barely slept that night. Every sound in the corridor made me jump. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat. My mind raced through possibilities, each more paranoid than the last.
By morning, I felt worse than I had after the fight with Ser Gerold.
xxx
I was accosted right away when I ventured out, heading toward the practice yard more out of habit than any real desire to train.
Gerion and Lord Steffon were waiting. They pulled me aside before I could even grab a practice sword.
"So," Steffon asked, his eyes twinkling. "How was it?"
I frowned. "How was what?"
"Come now," Gerion said, smiling encouragingly. "No need to be shy. We're all men here. We've been there. The expectation. The nerves."
"A man's first is no small thing, son." Steffon hummed sagely.
Understanding crashed over me like a bucket of ice water.
"It was you?" I stared at them. "You sent that woman to my room?"
Steffon gave me a paternal smile. "Gerion here told me of your... plight. Your inexperience. We thought we'd help you out. So, tell us. How was it?"
I let out a long breath. I'd barely gotten any sleep because of them. Because of this stupid right-of-passage thing. I didn't know whether to be relieved or furious.
Relieved won, but only barely.
"Nothing happened," I said, thinking quickly. "I drank a bit too much thinking about what happened in the great hall, so by the time she knocked on my door I barely got out of bed. Couldn't go through with it even if I wanted to."
Steffon nodded. "No need to explain further, son," he said, bringing me into a sideways hug. "It happens to every man. Cassana could tell you how many times I've let her down after one too many drinks."
He lifted up a finger, then slowly brought it down like a wilting flower getting smaller and smaller until it was barely visible.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, mind you. Perfectly natural."
Gerion nodded sympathetically from the side. "I have my stories too. There was this one time in Lannisport with this merchant's daughter..." he trailed off like it was a sweet memory. "Ah, Helena."
My face throbbed. The swelling from yesterday's fight had gone down some, but not enough. Something in the back of my eyes was pulsing too, and it made every expression hurt.
I opened my mouth to answer, to try to salvage some dignity from this conversation. Closed it. Realized there was absolutely no winning here. Just grunted in pain.
"You know what?" I said. "Sure. Why not. Thank you, my lord. That gives me some peace of mind."
I patted them both on the back and gave them the most pained smile I could manage.
"I think I'll actually go back to my rooms and get some rest. Long day ahead tomorrow."
The older men only gave me sympathetic nods as I walked away.
Behind me, I heard Steffon's voice, meant to be comforting: "Happens to the best of us, lad! Nothing to worry about!"
I wanted to die.
xxx
I spent the rest of my time in King's Landing getting food sent to my rooms. Avoided everyone. Avoided everything.
Gerion knocked a few times, but I claimed I was still recovering from the fight with Ser Gerold. Lord Steffon sent a message about dinner, which I politely declined citing the same excuse.
I just wanted to go home.
On the morning of my departure, I left quietly. No grand farewells or speeches. No last minute goodbyes. Just collected my things, made my way to the docks in the pre-dawn darkness, and boarded the Golden Arrow.
The captain looked at my face—still showing the remnants of bruises—and wisely asked no questions.
As King's Landing receded into the distance, the Red Keep growing smaller against the morning sky, I finally allowed myself to relax.
I was going home. Back to Tarth. Back to problems I understood. Projects I could actually control. No more prophecies. No more fire priestesses. No more marriage plots. No more well-meaning lords trying to cure my virginity.
There was so much to be done back home. The expansion of Dawnrest. Training the Companions. Preparing for the voyage to Volantis.
And dealing with my father and Arianne. The conversation about the glass candle and what had really happened in the Weeping Town. That was going to be fun.
But at least it would be honest. No political maneuvering or hidden agendas.
Just work. Just family. For better or worse.
The Golden Arrow caught a good wind, and we made excellent time down the coast. Within hours, King's Landing was just a memory behind us, and I couldn't have been happier about it.
xxx
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