Small-Training Grounds, Back Of the Red Keep — King's Landing, CrownLands
To say that Visenya had a lot of things on her mind would be an understatement. So many plans, second plans and secrets had been bottled up inside of her that she knew, if her hair was not naturally white; it would have turned white by now from all the stress she kept hidden.
The most unpredictable coup would soon take place and she would be in the centre of it all. Ironically, she had worked similarly when she was younger against her brother but never to that degree.
While many times Tywin had suggested her to work and try to place Rhaegar on the throne, she had refused to take the risk; not yet at least. If she had not been in Casterly Rock and Rhaegar had not stolen the Stark girl, perhaps she would have rethought that plan since Aerys was becoming madder and madder by the day.
She kept most things bottled, none truly knowing the pressure she had from multiple fronts and no one truly knowing all the details; except for her. If her younger self could see her now, having different masks and personalities for each person she would have to work with; she would have laughed.
Sometimes she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered how far she had fallen, the words of Tyrion echoing in her mind. Have I really fallen that low? she questioned herself again and again.
Her actions were justified, her plans well thought but not everyone would see it that way. If anyone were to find out, then one would agree that she had fallen far lower than she used to when she was still the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.
All those things were giving her a strong migraine and she knew no herbal tea from Pycelle would help her. She had thought to ask Qyburn since Jaime praised his skills and she could see it on how his hand was saved despite the cut.
Yet, before she would go there; she had one last remedy and it was not Tywin. Since she was young, she learnt to pick up the sword because she wished to know how to fight and defend; to be useful to her family and not the invisible and unimportant child that she was.
As the years passed, she had picked up archery and she had found both weapons to offer some sort of relief from bottled-up tension. The aching pain from her tired muscles after an hour of training, the pleasing result of a destroyed target... all those things worked rather well when her mind was too occupied or when her frustration was getting out of hand.
Many would not approve of her actions but she was past the age to truly care what the others would say. She had seen two different wars, killed dozens of men and participated in multiple battles.
No one could tell her a lady was not supposed to fight and leave with his head intact. She had proven to many that she was not a weak court lady incapable of climbing alone on the saddle of her horse but a fearsome warrior after whom she was named.
She had moved to some smaller and more private training grounds existing at the back of the Red Keep. They were less popular with the other training grounds that were far bigger and more widely known to guests and soldiers alike.
Those were smaller, barer and ironically, had been created for Naelys Targaryen. Because the Dragon Whisperer also had a calling for arms but as a lady and a relative to King Viserys, she could not be seen acting like a man; not when she had yet to be betrothed and married.
Thus, the King had created that more private training ground for her to train without everyone seeing her. Years later, it had become the private grounds for any royals to train including her brother, herself, her nephew and Jaime to name a few.
Of course, it was not as private and some could attend if they wished but few bothered; when there were the bigger grounds to occupy.
That day, Visenya had not been alone for two Lannister guards stood by the entrance. Tywin had two guards following after her ever since the Martells had arrived in King's Landing, clearly mistrusting the Prince and not forgetting the vendetta of his house against his.
Visenya knew that no Martell would harm her but he did not know that. She allowed him to place the guards because that simply could be used further to solidify her plan. To the eyes of the court, she was either a powerful lady, who exerted her power through her escort of guards or a poor wife whose husband had her controlled and spied on whenever he was not around himself.
Either way, it worked in her favour and she was not going to change that.
She took another arrow from her quiver and placed it on her bow. The bow had been carved by the branch of a weirwood tree and was specially ordered by her, having paid a lot to obtain it.
Made in a similar style of the Free Folk, Visenya had spent years designing and eventually having it made; after all those stories about the Free Folk and the children of the forest. Weirwood was special because it did not rot and was not overly flexible but neither too rigid; making it a perfect material for bows.
It had served her well over the years and she knew it would continue to do so until her passing, when she would give it to Trystan; who had also practised archery but never favoured it as much as his mother.
She carefully balanced the arrow on the string, doing it with relative ease since after all those years; it was mere muscle memory. She had three targets at the other end of the training grounds. The first and the last were the usual round targets to practise archery while the middle one was a hay dummy to mimic an opponent with paper around it to mimic armour.
Each of the archery targets had around 4 arrows each, all having hit the centre when they were released from the bow. The dummy had two arrows embedded on its unprotected neck and Visenya aimed to hit the same spot again when she took notice of something with the tip of her eye.
She lowered her weapon and turned her head, seeing Lady Brienne being denied access by the guards. The tall woman with broad shoulders was dressed in a tunic and pants while a sword was held in her hands, a simple common sword that almost any hedge knight carried.
"Let her pass," Visenya said, upon realizing that the woman had come most likely to train.
Now why she had come to the private ones and how, she was not sure but she did suspect that it was partially intentional. With all those guests and soldiers, the common training grounds were usually occupied by men and they would not make it easy for her to train.
The soldiers obeyed immediately and allowed Brienne to walk her way, gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, my Lady. I apologise for the intrusion. I was merely looking for a place to train but I was not allowed in the common training grounds."
The Dragoness now stood side by side with the woman, who surpassed her in height. She speculated that Brienne was almost as tall as the Hound, if not just a tad shorter. It was impressive for a woman and she knew men most likely found it intimidating, something she would have enjoyed seeing from close.
"It is quite alright. I will let my men know that you are allowed free entrance here," she explained, craning her head up to keep her in her field of vision.
Now I know how Tyrion feels, she thought and amused herself.
"My Lady, you do not have to do this—" Brienne tried to say but Visenya lifted her hand, silently making her stop talking.
"I am well aware but I wish to. You are our guests and you escorted my son back home," she reminded her and then the corner of her lips curved up to a small side smirk. "In addition, I do respect another woman, who has been willing to pick up a sword."
The taller woman was speechless for a moment but then bowed her head in gratitude. As she did, she noticed the sword strapped around the waist of the Dragoness and her rather casual outfit.
She was wearing tight black pants and an equally tight red under-tunic with a black sleeveless leather vest on top. It was rather casual and one might say manly for a lady of her status, whose hair was held into a tall ponytail like a common girl.
Yet, Brienne remembered to whom she was talking to and did not remain surprised for long. The Dragoness was a woman that had tasted battle and war, thus it would make sense she had different clothes for when she trained or fought; considering she even had her own armour.
It was, though, an interesting thing to see. The woman in front of her could pass for a commoner or a noble lady at best with her current attire and yet had been the same elegant and graceful woman draped in red silk dresses and golden jewellery that had welcomed them a few days ago.
Somehow, she was able to balance both when needed with equal strength and grace. She was the epitome of a woman, who could be a court lady one day and a fearsome warrior in the next.
Since nothing more was said, Visenya brought her bow and arrow back into position and aimed. Brienne knew that she should let her alone but there was something she needed to address and talk about.
"My Lady, I am well aware that we never discussed the freedom of the Stark girls," she started and the Dragoness held back the arrow, not shooting yet. "Yet, I was recently informed of what took place at the Twins; the Red Wedding as they call it."
Visenya somehow knew where this discussion would lead since it was only a matter of time before Brienne would find out about Catelyn's death. As the incident was brought forward, the Dragoness remembered why it had gone so bad.
She remembered the man who went against her plan and killed a pregnant wife and her unborn child, did not bury the dead but mutilated them for his sadistic amusement.
Lord Frey, she thought and her eyes darkened upon bringing up the image of the old sickening lord that married girls that could easily be his great-granddaughters and sired all kinds of children.
She narrowed her eyes and released the arrow only that this time it did not go for the neck as she originally intended. Instead, the arrow ended up on the dummy's manhood before a second one soon joined it.
Taking a deep breath, Visenya grabbed a third arrow while Brienne watched her in silence; clearly getting the message that the incident was not something she enjoyed. "A very dark red stain in the history of this war and a very unfortunate one," the Dragoness said and released the third arrow; never stopping imagining it was the coward old man she was harming.
"Did you know about it? When we first arrived in King's Landing?" Brienne asked her.
Visenya lowered her bow. "I did but I did not choose to bring it up. However, since we are discussing the topic; you must understand the complications that have arisen. One of Catelyn's daughters was never in our possession and the other is officially a Lion while your lady is dead and thus cannot have her children returned to her."
Her voice was professional, perhaps a little emotionless but this was how it had to be. This was not a topic of discussion, especially one she enjoyed talking about. Ever since the Red Wedding, she had barely managed to talk with Sansa because of being so busy but also because the girl had retreated herself into grief.
"I have been informed of that. However, I still have given my vow to keep her daughters safe and I wish to serve and protect her; even if she is to remain here due to her marriage," she confessed.
The Dragoness craned her neck to look back at her, taking in her features and body. She could hear the honesty in those words and based on what Jaime told her, she was a loyal woman, who followed the rules of knighthood far better than almost every other knight and of course; Kingsguard.
Despite all that, Visenya had heard how Loras was furious upon seeing her; blaming her for killing Renly when she had no true part in his death. He was not the only one as many accused her weakness as a woman as the cause of her failure to protect her 'king'.
Considering she did serve Renly, it would also be trouble and something was telling her Joffrey would not make it easy for her to bend the knee. If this idea were to even truly manifest, she had lots of work to do.
As if I do not have enough already, she thought and grabbed her quiver with her arrows; strapping it across her chest.
She knew that with her around, Sansa would be safe; not that true harm would ever come to her now that she bore the Lannister name. Yet, being allowed to be in service of the Lannisters and be around Sansa would not be something easy to suggest to Tywin.
"I will discuss it with my Lord Husband and we will see. I would advise you not to have high expectations on the subject just yet. Please enjoy the training grounds, Lady Brienne. We will discuss this again when a decision has been made," she said and started to walk towards the exit, having spent enough time training.
She needed a bath, she needed a drink and she needed to sit down and prioritize everything because time was passing and she had a lot of things to take care of.
Chambers of Sansa & Tyrion, Red Keep — King's Landing, Crown Lands - An hour before
Trystan's day had been rather empty, now that his parents had been around and were dealing with pretty much everything. He had grabbed the chance to spend some time with Jaime after so long but the Half-Lion could see that his brother had changed since the last time he saw him.
There was this exhaustion in his eyes, this odd silence and even his cockiness seemed to have been reduced; compared to what it used to be.
It worried him but after a talk with his mother, he concluded that his brother had been through a lot and needed some time.
He had found out that the man, who cut off his hand, had been dealt with and he was more than happy with it. A part of him wished he could be the one to deliver the punishment but upon learning it was the Mountain that did it, he let it pass.
His return was a happy event, now all the Lions were together under the same roof; although not for long. Soon, Cersei would be sent to Highgarden to marry Loras and the Half-Lion was not truly looking forward to it.
Yet, he knew he could not do something about it. He had doubts that his father would allow him to go and stay with Cersei, a part of him also not wanting because he did not wish to leave Sansa behind.
Jaime would not go most likely as a Kingsguard and that left Cersei, well, alone. It was not a happy thought and Trystan wished not to let his time be spent on it. Instead, he hated the chambers of Tyrion; wishing to check upon him.
Ever since the news of the Red Wedding reached them, the dwarf had been rather absent and silent even. Something more had happened at that Small Council and he refused to tell anyone, not even his younger brother.
Trystan hoped, now that a few days had passed, that Tyrion would be more willing to talk. He knocked on his closed door and pushed it open, only to see Sansa inside and not the dwarf brother of his.
"Lady Sansa," he greeted, offering a small charming smile.
Ever since he delivered her the news, he hadn't truly managed to see her. After spending that day comforting her, the Half-Lion felt odd to approach her again; so soon nonetheless. She was married to his brother and she was just a pawn in his father's plans to get his hands on the North.
He was the future heir of Casterly Rock and most likely would also be sent to marry rather soon, once the right chance was given.
Yet, he could not truly stop thinking about that evening when she was in his arms. She had trusted him with a moment of weakness where she could cry in peace, not fearing someone would mock or judge her.
He remembered her unique scent as she almost fell asleep on his chest and then how he had carried her to her bed, before taking his leave. He wished to see her earlier but he believed it was wiser to put some distance between them.
With his father just flying around like a vulture, one could never truly know what secrets he would manage to see. His mother had warned him to be mindful of his emotions and actions around her. They might be 'siblings' now but the wrong idea could easily be passed.
"Ser Trystan," she greeted back with a smile. "If you are looking for Lord Tyrion, he left to go somewhere with Ser Bronn not so long ago," she informed, suspecting that this would be the only reason he had visited her.
She doubted it was because of her, not after she must have made him feel awkward by crying in his arms like a little girl. She did not blame him for keeping his distance after that, since it was not right; considering she was married.
"I see," he exclaimed and only then noticed the dress on a limb-less mannequin that was next to Sansa. "Is this from Doroh?" he questioned and took a few steps forward.
The dress was a beautiful black in colour and there were silver abstract streaks randomly reflecting the light coming from the windows. It was long sleeved with a nice bodice, all tight but the skirt had a wider hip area and was flowing until the floor. Small parts of animal fur had been sewed as a decorative shoulder covering and there was a silver chain connecting the two shoulders; passing across the collarbone of the wearer.
Sansa smiled and nodded her head. "It is. It arrived today along with a few more dresses," she admitted, eyes looking at the dress with some nostalgia. "Doroh had told me he could try a more Northern styling in clothing but I never expected it to be so..."
"Beautiful," he said, unaware whether he talked about the dress or the mental image in his head of Sansa wearing it.
"Do you like it?" she asked him, her cheeks having the faintest of pink hue.
He nodded his head, placing his hands behind his back. "Yes... I mean, the colour will suit you. Darker plainer colours such as black or other more gentle colours like green and blue fit with your complexion and bring out the unique shade of your hair," he confessed, quickly explaining things that were usually unknown to men.
Usually, men did not know of fashion, colours or dresses; leaving that to their wives and daughters to handle. To hear someone like him, of all people, talk about matching colours and shades was something that amused Sansa and she tried not to chuckle at the idea.
The mighty Half-Lion who had killed men to save her and fought against Stannis and his men, just complimented the dress and told her what colours matched her better.
He seemed to take notice because he cleared his throat and shifted the weight from one leg to the other, trying to save himself from further embarrassment; realizing he had spoken rather openly without properly thinking of his words beforehand.
Sansa's curiosity got the best of her and found the courage to ask him.
"This is an impressive skill set, Ser," she said, complimenting him with honesty and respect. "May I ask how a knight knows of such things?"
Trystan chuckled to himself, realizing he could not save it now. Yet, her question did not mock but rather just out of curiosity, perhaps the faintest of amusement. If this would make her smile and feel better, he was willing to take that risk.
"Allow me to tell you about it while we walk in the gardens," he said, offering his hand like a gentleman. "I was informed that you have not left your chambers the past few days."
It was true and she was not going to lie. Ever since the day she learnt the news and he comforted her, she hadn't truly spent much time outside.
She remained inside doing some needlework or reading, taking small walks inside the Red Keep.
Margaery had visited her once to offer her condolences but they had not met again. Visenya had been absent, although with the incoming wedding and all those new guests; she understood the Dragoness had been rather busy.
After days inside and knowing the good weather outside, Sansa agreed to the offer. She took his elbow, her fingers feeling the muscles beneath the fabric of his jacket; a result of handling a sword and a bow for years.
She tried not to blush at the contact or the height difference as the two of them left the chambers and headed towards the gardens.