Of Schemes and Kisses

Of Spies and Champions

“I was wondering if you could help me out,” Jon said to Theon who was busy topping up Jon’s mug of ale. Their drinks had initially intended to be in Sansa’s honour, but the men had quickly become distracted and drank more than originally anticipated.

“If it’s how to get your first kiss with a princess and leave her wanting more, talk to Robb,” Theon replied before letting out a hoot of excitement. Robb chuckled, glad that for once he had the bragging rights instead of Theon.

“I’ve already kissed her, if that makes any difference,” Jon confessed and Theon’s eyes enlarged, surprised that his shy friend had already made a move.

“And how did that go?” he questioned. Robb leaned forwards with interest as well.

“It was heated… She wanted more, she was pushing herself into me, but I pulled away,” Jon admitted, already regretting asking the question that his intoxicated mind had been unable to fully think about before it had slipped from his lips.

“This is incredible,” Theon breathed before chuckling to himself.

“What? That we’re getting more action than you for once?” Robb teased and Theon shook his head.

“You’re not; you haven’t got past a kiss,” he pointed out. “But that you have both come to King’s Landing and found someone you fancy is interesting. Tell me more, Jon.”

“I’m going to keep her unnamed,” Jon clarified and Theon exchanged a glance with Robb.

“It’s Nymeria, isn’t it?” Theon guessed, well aware of the connection that Nymeria and Jon had had at the feast.

“Rhaenys’ cousin? From Dorne?” Robb clarified and Theon nodded.

“She was practically all over him at the feast, not like you would have noticed since you had a princess all over you,” Theon smirked and Robb shook his head, knowing that Rhaenys wasn’t quite that attached to him.

“She’s remaining unnamed,” Jon insisted.

“It’s Nymeria,” Theon nodded to Robb before looking back to Jon. “Go on, then.”

“My worry is that she is preoccupied with another man, but she continually comes to me with affection and we connect in a way I have never done with anyone else. So how do I prove to her that she should be with me?” Jon attempted to explain. Robb raised his eyebrows with intrigue.

“Sounds complicated,” he remarked and Jon resisted the desire to grin at how little Robb knew.

“Is bedding her out of the question?” Theon said and Jon glared at him.

“Yes.”

“I feel like Nymeria would love for you to bed her,” he countered and Jon gritted his teeth.

“I’m not going to name her, and I will keep her honour intact by not bedding her prematurely,” he insisted. Theon took another swig of his drink, the other two following suit.

“Has the other man bedded her?” Theon questioned and Jon’s stomach sank at the thought.

“No,” he mumbled, glad it had not yet happened although it still seemed inevitable that his brother was going to wed Rhaenys and bed her for the rest of his life while Jon stood guard outside their door.

“Well that helps,” Theon stated before looking into the distance as he thought over the situation. “I doubt I can be much help if it’s got nothing to do with bedding. I can’t say I often charm my way into ladies hearts, just pay to duck beneath their skirts.” Jon rolled his eyes, regretting making the confession because now he wasn’t going to benefit.

“You have to give me some advice,” he pleaded.

“I think you have to impress her more than the other man involved. Show her that you are worthy of her time and love,” Robb suggested and Jon turned to him, wishing that his brother wasn’t advising him on how to win over the woman they were both interested in.

“How? He appears to have it all sorted,” Jon said with a shrug before gulping down more ale.

“The tourney!” Theon exclaimed as though he was an absolute genius for thinking of the idea. Jon stared at him blankly and Robb grinned. “There’s a tourney soon, in honour of the princess a few days before she is wed. Imagine if you won!” Jon raised his eyebrows, intrigued because he knew that he was a good fighter.

“I was unaware of that,” he muttered, contemplating the situation.

“You’ve probably been too busy being a guard to take note of whispers,” Robb remarked. “I don’t know what I did with the scroll, but I believe it said that all men who enter will be equipped with a blunt weapon of their choice, and once you are knocked down or submit you are eliminated.”

“And then as winner, you could crown your lady the Queen of Love and Beauty,” Theon added with a shrug. “I doubt you could prove your worth any more than that.” Robb laughed loudly and Jon frowned, wondering what was bad about winning the tourney.

“What’s wrong with that plan?” he questioned once Robb had quietened down.

“I’m in the tourney,” he replied before sipping at his ale, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’ve bested you before.”

“As have I,” Robb countered and they locked eyes, falling silent as Theon focused on drinking his ale instead of the tension between the two brothers.

“So we could work together to take down the others and then you let me win?” Jon proposed but Robb shook his head.

“I have Rhaenys to impress. I need to win for her, and crown her my Queen of Love and Beauty before the king,” he justified and Jon’s gaze dropped with sadness. He understood that there was no way he could possibly change Robb’s mind, so he was on his own.

“What will you do?” Theon wondered when the other two failed to speak.

“I don’t know…” Jon sighed, his hand falling into his pocket to grip the spear brooch.

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“Although it is very kind of you to offer your help, is there nowhere else we could possibly have this lesson?” Robb asked as he approached the front door of one of Petyr’s brothels. The sight of a topless woman hanging out one of the high windows, calling to the men below and attempting to entice them inside for another large payment, was making him very uncomfortable.

“My most educational books are inside here. It would be too much effort to shift them to the Red Keep,” Petyr insisted, slowing down the closer they got to the building. He wanted every spy in the vicinity to see the honourable Stark entering with his Kingsguard, and for the speculation to begin.

“Very well…” Robb muttered, keeping his head and gaze low while he walked inside. Petyr led the way, taking his time to pass the open doors where whores were preparing themselves for another client, as well as the closed ones that did nothing to hush the cries of pleasure that came from inside. Robb did his best to keep his eyes forward and ignore the noises that reached his ears, wondering how Theon could enjoy such a filthy establishment. Even the walls looked dirtied, and Robb didn’t even want to imagine what was on them, let alone the floor and door handles. Petyr smirked as they left the main area and headed up the stairs to his private office at the back of the building.

“I am glad to hear that your sister has recovered,” Petyr said and Robb gave a reluctant smile.

“Thank you. She is doing much better than everyone thought she would,” he replied. “It is a pity that she had to suffer, and that Rhaenys has such a large target on her.”

“That it is. But she is surviving,” Petyr commented, wishing that she wasn’t.

“She is tough,” Robb agreed as they stepped into Petyr’s office.

“As you have seen, I have a very profitable business here,” Petyr pointed out while he closed the door behind Robb. “One can do a lot despite starting with a small amount of funds.”

“I understand that you are talented when it comes to coins. Apparently there is no one better in the realm for the job,” Robb remarked and Petyr grinned from the compliment that boosted his ego.

“That is very true, and this is why you must not share any of the secrets I reveal to you here today. I am doing this as a favour to your family and the king, to help you be a good man for your princess,” Petyr explained, almost impressing himself with how smooth his lie came out.

“And I am very grateful,” Robb nodded and Petyr lived a heavy book from the shelf. He plopped it on the desk and opened a few pages in, beginning what he intended to be a brief lesson on balancing books and where it was best to borrow coins from if needed.

“Time has really flown. I must leave, I have to be in a council meeting shortly,” Petyr explained as he abruptly shut the book. Robb frowned, surprised that either time had truly passed quickly or that Petyr had never intended for the lesson to last long.

“Oh, well, I suppose I cannot keep you from such matters,” he agreed and they headed for the exit, Petyr swooping in and grasping the handle before Robb could open the door.

“You know, you could treat yourself to a reward for doing so well at learning a topic that most struggle with,” he suggested but Robb only frowned, not understanding his hint. “I could make it on the house, no worries. It would hardly be a loss of funds.” Robb’s face fell and a stern expression replaced his surprise.

“I am not interested,” he stated while clenching his fists, angered that Petyr would make such a proposal.

“It may be a good idea, for practice before you are wed. It’s not that far away now,” Petyr attempted to convince him, stunned that a young man was refusing a free session with a whore from an expensive brothel.

“Nothing you say will make me accept your offer. Now, if you would open that door, as you have a meeting and I have other things to attend to,” Robb said strictly, exerting his authority and doing his best to conclude the awkward and awful conversation.

“Of course, my apologies,” Petyr said with a smile, sweeping the door open and allowing Robb to exit. The Kingsguard followed Robb as he stormed down the stairs, not even bidding the smirking Petyr goodbye. He strode from the brothel and headed back to the Red Keep as quickly as he could, so stunned he could hardly comprehend what had just happened.

A spy loitering outside the brothel smirked to himself as he watched the almighty Robb Stark leave with a flushed face, the time he had been inside just long enough for a good toss beneath the sheets with one of the whores. Certain he was going to make a lot of money from the information, he turned and immediately bumped into a bald man with his hands clasped before him.

“Watch it,” he growled before moving to shove past the man.

“I have plenty of gold dragons to spend on good information,” Varys stated and the man paused, suddenly willing to hear him out.

“I have good information, all right, but I am already paid very well to share it,” he said, hoping to raise his profits.

“And I will double that if you forget what you just saw,” Varys proposed.

“Sounds like a good deal,” the man said with a nod.

“Good. Now tell every other bird in this vicinity to come to me as well. No one is to remember what just happened, do you understand?” Varys continued as he reached into his robe and lifted a gold dragon from it.

“I understand,” the man grinned and Varys offered him the coin. The man scurried off to inform his fellow spies and Varys waited patiently for them to approach him and receive their payment for forgetting about Robb entering the brothel. It was a close call, but fortunately the whispers had reached him before it was too late to help Rhaenys.

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Rhaenys took her seat to the right of her father and leaned forwards to take in the vast arena before her. She had the best view, and so she should, as the tourney was being held in her name before her wedding. Dancers kept the crowd entertained as the last few seats filled up, and then a large black steed was ridden around the arena flying the Targaryen sigil on a flag, signalling that the tourney was about to begin.

“It is a pity I didn’t enter. I would have won, but I have to be kind and not steal the attention from you before your wedding,” Aegon remarked from his seat next to Rhaenys and she chuckled.

“I doubt you could defeat some of the other contenders,” she responded, uncertain if she was referring to Jon or Robb. “There are a lot of knights participating, and other good fighters.”

“It will indeed be interesting,” Aegon agreed as the horse came to a stop before them.

“Your Highness, Rhaenys of house Targaryen, I present to you the tourney in your honourable name. May you take pleasure in watching the men’s skill and finding a champion,” the man announced and Rhaenys nodded at him to dismiss him. Once the horse was out of the arena, men began filing in. They were dressed in a range of different colours to flaunt which house they were sworn to, and Rhaenys spotted a good variety of weapons amongst the men which would make for a more interesting display of moves rather than only seeing sword fights. Once they were spread around the arena evenly, a horn was blown on Rhaenys’ command, then cries erupted from the warriors and the crowd. The men lunged at each other and engaged in sparring. Rhaenys scanned the area in search of Robb and Jon, spotting Robb first. He wore the thick brown leathers he typically sported, but grey armour provided him with an advantage of defence and a Stark green cloak was no doubt slowing him down. Rhaenys grinned, wondering if he was forced to wear that for show, and then continued her search for Jon. She found him wearing leathers and mail that were darker shades, more towards black than brown, and his cloak was black, no doubt due to him being a bastard. Rhaenys couldn’t help but frown at his colours, frustrated that he was being put down yet again, but found a will to smile once Jon knocked down his opponent and hence eliminated the other man.

Swords, spears, axes, polearms, and warhammers crashed into each other and armour, and one by one the men fell. Some submitted to avoid further bruises, aware that they were at the receiving end of a brutal attack and wished to avoid it, and occasionally a devastated man who refused to accept his loss had to be dragged from the arena. The crowd was pleased as the battle reached its end, but Rhaenys was full of nerves. In her mind it was Robb and Jon who were doing the most damage, taking down opponent after opponent, but the last thing she wanted was for them to be the last two standing. Jon ducked beneath a warhammer swing and his sword connected with the man’s side, making him stumble and fall to his knees. Having lost, he stood and made his way to an exit as Jon spun around and looked for his next rival. He was surprised to see that only Robb and one other man remained. They were engaged in a sword fight on the opposite side of the arena, so Jon waited and caught his breath, eager to see who would win. Cheers erupted from the crowd and the green cloaked man was the one who remained standing. Jon gulped and began walking towards his brother, not surprised that fate had made this happen to him. Rhaenys stood from her chair, stepping forwards to lean against the balcony and watch with horrified eyes as the two men prepared themselves.

Robb made the first move. He swung his sword forwards and was easily blocked by Jon, but Robb remained on the offensive and pressed forwards, forcing Jon backwards as he flicked Robb’s sword away time after time. After a feeble attack, the tides turned and Jon became in control of the fight. During a deflected attack, he caught sight of Rhaenys and he realised that Robb had forced them towards the royal stand, possibly deliberately. Even more determined than before to win and show Rhaenys that he was worthy of her attention, Jon cried out as he made a hasty attack. Robb noticed Jon’s focus beginning to slip and put on a charade that he was losing the fight, which encouraged Jon to continue swinging his sword inefficiently in a desperate attempt to steal the victory. Robb suddenly dodged to the side and Jon’s sword flung into the dirt of the arena’s floor, sending a jolt up his arms. This was then matched by the impact of Robb’s sword crashing into his torso. Jon stumbled and his knees buckled. He used his sword to help him balance and rose to his feet to attack once more, but a horn blew and the two ceased their combat.

“You hit the ground,” Robb informed Jon who was clearly confused by the horn.

“What? Really?” he questioned and Robb nodded while a guard rushed to Jon’s side.

“Your knees, you fell for a second,” the guard said as he gripped Jon’s arm to pull him from the arena since he wasn’t budging. Stunned, Jon allowed himself to be guided away from Robb and a stallion was led into the arena for Robb to mount. After a few victory laps to the applause of the crowd, Robb halted next to the man who was offering him the wreath of red flowers and Robb grinned widely as he accepted the flowers and placed them in his lap. He trotted across the arena and stopped before the royal balcony where his and Rhaenys’ families were. She was the most prominent figure, leaning forwards in her orange dress with an expression he could not quite read. Nonetheless Robb gave her a smile and was relieved to see her relax into one as well.

“Princess Rhaenys of house Targaryen, I would like the honour of crowning you my Queen of Love and Beauty,” Robb announced and Rhaenys’ grin widened.

“Of course you may,” she replied before bending her knees and leaning forwards to lower herself enough for Robb to place the wreath atop her head. Rhaegar appeared at her side before Rhaenys could exchange sweet words with Robb, clapping his hands loudly.

“Well done! You are certainly deserving of being the victor!” he exclaimed and Robb stole a glance at his family to see their wild smiles and how enthusiastically they were applauding him. It only reassured him that his victory was far more important than Jon’s.
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Big thanks to Mr. Darcy and CharDeeMacDennis for the comments! I'd love to read some thoughts on this chapter, especially the tourney section! :)