ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴏ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ, ᴀ ꜱᴜɴ ꜱᴏ ʙʀɪɢʜᴛ

xi. a council meeting to decide the future

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Benjiamin's armour clattered as he entered the council chamber.

"You're late."

Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his generals.

"My apologies." He fell down in a free chair at the other end of the table. "We were ambushed by a group of outlaws. Their bodies now decorate the trees on the way to the castle."

Lord Tywin showed no reaction, which was to be expected.

"As I was saying-" one of the lords - Serrett perhaps - said- "The last we heard from Storm's End was that fighting had broken out between Stannis' forces and former Renly supporters. As to the outcome, no message has been sent."

Truthfully, Benjiamin couldn't care less about the happenings in the Stormlands. He was already well occupied with his own war and the idiotic uprisings in his lands - what some far-away pretenders were quarrelling over was of no importance to him.

"The only thing we should concern ourselves with is the Tyrell host," Lord Tywin said. "Whomever they join will become our biggest threat."

A dark haired girl went to fill Benjiamin's cup, but he laid a hand over the goblet. He needed his wits with him at all times.

"Perhaps we could now return to the issue of this Golden Paladin," one of the men said.

Benjiamin shifted in his chair, trying not to seem too interested. But oh, how glad he was that someone had brought up that bitch. She had been nothing but a nuisance to him, a thorn in his side, a pest plaguing his land. Her meddling in his affairs was one of the reasons he had decided to ally with House Lannister. Well, that and the letter by that imbecile Edmure Tully berating him for punishing his subjects.

Lord Tywin's frown deepened. "The peasant's love for her is misplaced. She is a foolish woman that will soon find her end."

"Girl."

"What was that?"

Benjiamin looked up, gaze switching from one general to the next before settling on Lord Tywin. "I was simply saying that she is younger than even me, you could not possibly call her a woman."

"Ah, I remember," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You have met her before."

He ground his teeth together. Met her. Had been embarrassed by her, would better describe their interactions.

The image of her standing above him, golden curls swaying in the wind, smiling viciously, would haunt his dreams until his dying breath.

(At least it was something pretty, for a change.)

"Aye," was all he said.

"Tell me, how is your pursuit of the Paladin going?"

Lord Tywin stared at him almost in challenge, but Benjiamin was not one of his weakling generals who easily caved to the Lord of Casterly Rock. He was the son of Elyana Vypren, the blood of the First Men, and no one, not an old lion, and definitely not a rambunctious paladin, could make him feel any lesser.

"Less ideal than I would have liked," he finally answered. "The people love her too much. Most of them would rather die than confess they have even so much as seen her."

"Perhaps you should see this as your sign to dedicate your attention to more pressing matters."

And abandon her? Never.

He raised a brow. "I have killed Harrion Karstark for you. And his entire army. The way I see it, a girl inciting riots against our forces and garnering sympathy for the enemy is the most pressing matter at this point."