Weeping Thorns

Chapter 18: A Morning For Death

~Kasondra~

'It smells like horse shite here.' I whisper quietly inside my mind. It was the only place I could speak my thoughts and not lose my tongue for it. Especially when Littlefinger was taking his seat directly behind me.

Sansa was to my left and Arya to my right. The youngest female was focusing on anything but the introductions of the King and Queen.

Jory was placed by my father's side and I couldn't help but notice the side smirks he would pass off to me every now and then. It was only a matter of time before he would be my husband, and I, his wife.

The first few rounds were quite boring to say the least. I meekly watched each horse and rider be tumbled over again and again. Until the Hound made his appearance. I was sitting on the edge of my seat already. Just the look of this man sent my hairs on edge. I dug my fingers into my seat, my whole body as tense as a bow string.

"Relax young fox," Petyr placed his hand upon my shoulder. Now, it was father's turn to become tense. I rolled my shoulder out from under his touch and scowled at the area he had touched me, as if it were poison. "He can't hurt you from this angle. I'm sure that savage body guard of yours would lay his head on a blade to insure the safety of his Lady."

"Leave him be." I growled with a sharp tongue. Jory knelt down to whisper something to father that I could not hear for myself. Sansa leaned closer to me and I couldn't help but see the distraught look in her eyes. She turned to our Septa but she caught the eye of the Prince. She shot him a sweet smile but he looked upon my sister with hatred.

"Don't pay him any mind." I chastised and patted her hand. I had to play the part of an innocent woman and hold my tongue. A tall shadow momentarily blocked my view and I lifted my head to see Petyr Balish with a slim smirk on his lips.

"Lovers quarrel?" Sansa seemed taken back by his brash nature. I laid a hand on Sansa's knee and saw Mordane shift beside of the young girl.

"Sansa dear, this is Lord Baelish." The old woman spoke with high pride for the man. A man who owned as many whorehouses as he could count. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and forced a smile to my face. "He's known-"

"An old friend of the family. I've known your mother a long, long time. I also know your sister as well." He added and gave me a pleasant smile that caused my spine to tingle.

"You also knew my uncle, isn't that right?" Petyr dropped his act for a split second, rage shooting through his veins. Septa gasped in horror in reached over to tap the back of my hand. Arya peered around Sansa to put in her two sense.

"Why do they call you Litterfinger-?"

"Arya!" Sansa scolded the younger girl. I was brought here to contain their anger for each other, but for right now it was pretty entertaining.

"Don't be rude!" The old hag barked once again. I sharply snapped my head to the side and glared with anger, daring the woman to speak another word to my sister. To my surprise, Petyr broke the tension.

"No, it's quite alright." He leaned down a little so he could face Arya. "When I was a child, I was very small and I come from a little spot of land called the Fingers, so you see...." He ended his explanation with a small laugh. "It's an exceedingly clever nickname."

The king suddenly stands from his seat with a tankard of wine, nearly tripping over his feet in the haste. Father shook his head in disbelief. "I've been sitting here for days! Start the damn joust before I piss myself!" He growled to the crowd. Everyone was dead silent as the Knights rode forward on their steeds. Sansa broke out into a smile, re-living each tale of a handsome knight and a pretty princess.

"Gods, who's that?" Sansa sneered over Petyr's shoulder.

"Ser Gregor Clegane." Little finger began. The man dressed in heavy steel halted his horse directly in front of the King. "They call him The Mountain." Gregor opens the tiny slit of his helmet to expose a stern face decorated with black facial hair. "The Hounds older brother."

"And his opponent?" Sansa turned her attention to the much smaller man riding beside him.

"Ser Hugh of the Vale." I answered for Petyr. The other knight lifted his face mask. He was nowhere near as frightening as his opponent, but the way he sat upon his horse showed he was a skilled fighter. "He was Jon Arryn's squire, I think. From squire to knight in such a short amount of time."

"Yes, yes, enough of the bloody pomp. Have at him!" King Robert bellowed like a boar. Each respecting knight took his stance on the opposite side of the field. A horn in the crowd blew and each man turned his horse to face the other. The crowd cheered in triumph for the glorious fight to come. The horses revered and charged forward. Sand kicked up around the stallions and nearly blinded the people standing in the crowd.

It was quite a blur from there.

A rather bloody blur.

The wooden spear snapped in half, directly into Ser Hugh's gullet. Sansa squealed in terror and latched onto my sleeve. I hushed her fearful cries and watched as the man fell from his steed, blood squirting from his throat. The gurgling continued for a few seconds before his body went cold. Nobody dare move or breath for those moments.

"Not what you were expecting?" Petyr questioned with a raised brow. My fingers itched to have my daggers. "Has anyone ever told you about the Mountain and the Hound?"

"Lord Baelish-"

"I want to hear." Sansa pleaded. I gave a simple nod but shot the man a most hateful glare.

"It's a lovely little tale of brotherly love." Sansa looked back at the man guarding the king. He payed no one any attention and kept his focus. "The Hound was just a pup, six years old maybe. Gregor a few years older, already a big lad, already getting a bit of a reputation."

Petyr leaned closer to Sansa's ear and continued his story. I had heard of this gruesome tale many times before. "Some lucky boys just born with a talent for violence. One evening Gregor found his little brother playing with a toy by the fire- Gregor's toy. A wooden knight."

"Gregor never said a word, he just grabbed his brother by the scruff of his neck and shoved his face into the burning coals. Held him there while the boy screamed, while his face melted." Petyr finished with a sly smile directed towards me.

"There aren't many people who know that story-"

"Bullshit."

"Kasondra!" Septa scolded with those old eyebrows crinkled together. I shrugged in a nonchalant way and focused my attention back to the crowd. The smell of new blood filled my nostrils in a most unpleasant manner.

What a way to spend a beautiful morning!

~Chapter End~

I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long! Please don't hate me! As an apology, a little bit of sexy Jory is waiting for you in the next chapter! (Whenever I may post it) so please enjoy!