State of Grace / Ned Stark

27. Hated Every Moment of It

"Would you check on my girls?" Ned questioned in the morning as Grace got ready. She glanced back at him through the mirror. 

"I wasnt planning on leaving your chambers." Grace mused walking back to him. 

"They are ignoring me since I told them they are going home. Sansa refused said JOffrey was the love of her life... they both are set on staying." Ned remarked. "Maybe they will talk to you. You are so good with children." Grace smiled back at him. 

"Way to my heart." Grace agreed kissing him softly before heading out. 

 "I don't want to practice today." Arya declared.

"No?" Syrio countered.

"They killed Jory. My father is hurt. I don't care about stupid wooden swords."

"You are troubled." He remarked.

"Yes -"

"Good! Trouble is the perfect time for training. When you are dancing in the meadow with your dolls and kittens, this is not when fighting happens." Syrio agreed.

"I don't like dolls and k -" Arya began.

"I love kittens." Grace cut in and Arya glanced back at her. 

"You're not here. You're with your trouble. If you're with your trouble when fighting happens..." Syrio reminded her. He was right, Arya needed to be ready when the world burned. Or froze over and she clearly wanted to learn so she lifted her sparing sword up again. 

Arya makes a move for Syrio, who quickly counters and puts her on her back.

" ... More trouble for you. Just so... 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?" Syrio pondered. " The old and the new." Arya stood up brushing herself off. "There is only one god. And his name is death. And there is only one thing we say to death - 'Not today.'"

Syrio stepped back and tossed Arya her sword back, she caught it and assumed the counter position. Grace never wanted to learn to fight like Cersei did, she learned a few defensive techniques but Arya had fire in here. Get knocked down, get back up. 

+

"More wine, your Grace?" Lancel questioned.

"Oh, what was I saying?" Robert questioned taking another long sip.

"A simpler time." Renly offered.

"It was! It was. You're too young to remember. Wasn't it, Selmy?" Robert declared.

"It was, your Grace." Barristan agreed.

"The enemy was right there in the open, vicious as you like, all but sending you a bloody invitation. Nothing like today." Robert declared.

"Sounds exhilarating." Renly mused.

" Exhilarating, yes. Not as exhilarating as those balls and masquerades you like to throw. (laughs) You ever fucked a Riverlands girl?"

"Once, I think." Renly lied.

"You think? I think you'd remember. Back in our day, you weren't a real man until you fucked a girl from each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We called it "making the eight." Robert cackled out. Renly was bored out of his mind.

"Those were some lucky girls." Renly offered with a sigh.

"You ever make the eight, Barristan?" Robert questioned.

"I don't believe so, your Grace."

"Those were the days!" Robert laughed out.

"What days were those? The ones where half of Westeros fought the other half and millions died? Or before that, when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that when dragons burned whole cities to the ground?" Renly questioned.

"Easy, boy. You might be my brother, but you're speaking to the King.'' Robert sneered.

"I suppose it was all rather heroic. If you were drunk enough and had some poor Riverlands whore to shove your price inside and "make the eight." Renly offered rolling his eyes.

"More wine, your Grace?" Lancel questioned again. 

+

"You wear your hair like a real southern lady now." Mordane remarked when she saw Sansa.

"Well, why shouldn't I? We're in the south." Sansa agreed snottily. Cersei would do better talking to Sansa than Grace. Sansa seemed more like Catelyn and since Grace was in a mood with Catelyn for taking her brother she didnt think talking to sansa would be a good idea. But she could speak to Joffrey. 

"It's important to remember where you come from. I'm not sure your mother would like these new styles."

"My mother isn't from the North." Sansa corrected.

"I'm aware of that."

"Why do you care? Do you even have hair under there?" Sansa sassed.

" Yes. I have hair."

"I've never seen it." Sansa barked.

"Would you like to?" Mordane offered confused.

"No. Where are you from anyway, the north or the south?" Sansa snapped.

"I come from a very small village in -" Mordane began.

"Oh, wait. I just realized... I don't care." Sansa sneered.

"Sansa -"

"Septa."

"Now you are being rude."

"Joffrey honey, did you get the necklace your mother picked out for Sansa?" Grace questioned. 

"Do I have to give it to her? She will think I like her." Joffrey reminded Grace. 

"Yes, it will make her happy, and ally her to us." Grace agreed running a hand through his hair he leaned into her. 

"I dont want to marry her."

"I know, you made that clear." Grace agreed. 

"I want to marry...."

"There she is-" Grace turned Joffrey around. "Go on, honey, go give it to her, make her day." Joffrey sighed before lifting his head and walking forward. Grace smiled leaning against the wall as she watched Sansa's face light up when she saw Joffrey. 

"My prince." Mordane and Sansa echoed when joffrey approached.

"My lady. I fear I have behaved monstrously the past few weeks. With your permission?" Joffrey stepped forward and offered Sansa a necklace. She turned around, for him to put it on her, as acceptance. It was his mothers idea, she picked it out before all this business with Ned stark. But Grace said he should still give it to her so Joffrey was going to listen to his aunt. 

"It's beautiful. Like the one your mother wears." Sansa declared.

"You'll be queen one day, it's only fitting that you should look the part..." Joffrey grit out. "Will you forgive me for my rudeness?"

"There's nothing to forgive." Sansa assured. 

"Good... excuse me." Joffrey offered as he turned back around and moved to his aunt. 

"That was great." Grace assured wrapping an arm around him. 

"I hated every moment of it." Joffrey corrected. 

"Thats the spirit."