The One True Heir

Chapter 8

"Is now the right time to go on a hunt? You're down a council member and lacking a hand."

"Ned Stark is still my Hand. I have re-elected him and he's staying the Hand."

"Does he even want to be hand after the decision you came into?"

Father and son shared a look, one cold and the other bold. The servants that were helping the King prepare shuffled uncomfortably on their feet, Ser Barristan stoically looking out of the window and Lancel awkwardly playing with his belt.

"I named him Hand. And he will do his duty" the King finally said. "And you will accompany him. Learn how he does his duties" he paused, "I understand what you meant in the meeting, what you were thinking. But a Targaryen will not sit on that throne again. Understood?"

"Aye," the Prince muttered, leaving the stables in frustration. It was the same thing with his father. If the man was frustrated or if a problem popped up, he would either go for a hunt or fuck his whores. Funnily enough, the likelihood of both happening was very similar. Neither of which Edric liked in the least. He was the King, he had a responsibility to put these problems to rest before he could indulge himself.

He hadn't gone to his room from the stables, nor did he go to talk to his mother. He had also heard about what had happened when the King and Queen had gone to see Lord Stark. Though he had no details of what occurred, he didn't need to guess when word was that the Queen's cheek was red and she looked murderous but on the verge of tears. He would go to see her soon.

"More trouble for you" he heard a man's voice. It was Arya Stark and a man with a foreign accent, wooden swords in hand. That must have been the water dance master Lord Stark had hired for her. Unlike most, he was not under the illusion that Arya Stark was learning to dance. He had heard about the water dance style of combat before, and he was the one to suggest to Lord Stark about letting Arya train, while Mycah the Butchers boy was training with the other young recruits for the men at arms for The Red Keep like Edric had promised him if he showed interest in wanting to learn how to fight properly.

"Just so..." the man spoke after Arya had picked herself up, "How can you be quick as a snake, or as quiet as a shadow when you are somewhere else? You are fearing for your father, hmm? That is right. Do you pray to the gods?"

"The old and the new" Arya Stark answered.

"There is only one god. And his name is death. And there is only one thing we say to death - Not today."

Not today, huh? Edric did not disturb the student and master, walking around them to go see Lord Stark. The man was still in bed, recovering from the injury that Ser Jaime had inflicted on him.

"My Prince" Lord Stark greeted, trying to get up but Edric had motioned for him to stay in bed.

"How bad is the pain?" the Prince asked.

"Manageable now, thank you" the man answered, "I will not be taking part in any battles any time soon. Or any at all."

"You were attacked from behind" Edric commented once he had a good look at the man's injury. "A clean stab in the heels. Doesn't look like the work of my uncle."

"It was one of his men" Lord Stark clarified. "But it was Ser Jaime's attack, I can assure you."

"I don't doubt it," Edric said dryly. "You and my uncle don't get along too well, I have noticed. But you two have not been around one another long enough to dislike one another from what I hear. Why? Why do you dislike him so much?" he asked. He saw Lord Stark hesitate and assured him that being frank will not result in any kind of repercussions. The man relaxed then.