Jon Arryn looked at the dashing teen leading the small group before him. Back straight, clean, and dressed far too well for the road. His attire alone looked like it cost half a fortune,stitched with intricacies better suited for a royal ball than day to day use.
But the most intriguing part, or lack thereof, was the white mask hiding his face.
A burn? A bastard? Old wounds? Jon wondered.
He has Ned's trust, so I'll give him the benefit of doubt.
"Welcome to the Red Keep, Sebastian," Jon greeted the stranger.
"Greetings, Lord Arryn, Hand of the King and benefactor of my lord," Sebastian replied, bowing slightly.
"I received Ned's letter a few moons ago. He seems to hold you in quite high esteem."
The aura around the masked teen brightened almost visibly.
"Your words fill me with pride, Lord Arryn," he answered with earnest glee.
"Oh, among ourselves, please call me Jon. News from the north travels slowly to King's Landing, but eventually it does. I had been… skeptical, until I asked Ned. Magnificent work, young man."
"Thank you, Lord Arryn."
"Please, I insist, call me Jon."
"I would, my lord, if I were speaking to him right now. Circumstances matter, my lord. A chat with Jon Arryn would be delightful, but at the moment, I must address the Hand of the King. Of course, I mean no disrespect, my lord."
Jon Arryn, Defender of the Vale, Warden of the East, head of House Arryn, and Hand of the King, raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
"I quite like you and I'm glad Lord Stark has you by his side, kid," he said, his affable expression slipping into the noble, stern presence befitting his station.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
"AND HERE ENTERS, SEBASTIAN PHANTOMHIVE, HEAD BUTLER OF HOUSE STARK!" the herald announced.
Most of the court was present. The Baratheon brothers were absent, one at Dragonstone, and the other courting his fiancée… or her brother. Sword-swallowers, the lot of them.
"KID! COME! COME!" boomed a familiar, boisterous voice.
There, fat, bearded, and slightly older, sat King Robert Baratheon himself. Around him, countless swords formed his chair and a silent warning to his enemies,or potential enemies.
Sebastian stepped into the throne room and knelt.
"HAHAHAHA!" Robert roared.
His grin softened just enough to show memory.
"Who would've thought the scrawny little rat I found in the those wretched Islands would grow up into a well-mannered butler?" he mocked with fondness, still laughing.
He lifted his wineskin to drink
*tuck*
or at least tried to.
He froze, staring at the wineskin now hanging from a fork inches above his hand.
The Kingsguard drew their blades immediately.
Robert's grin widened.
"GUARDS, STOP!" he barked.
"But my King, the disrespect…" Jaime began, but Robert waved him off, laughing even harder, remembering the same insolence, in another land, in another time, with better men by his side.
"Out of your girly knives, ehh.What do you have to say for yourself, brat?" he asked, voice deeper, posture heavier.
Sebastian tilted his head, utterly unapologetic,even through the mask, showing more spine than almost all the supposed 'nobles' that robert met in his life.
"My hand slipped, my King," he said innocently, like a squire dropping his training sword by mistake.
He raised a hand.
"As a token of apology, I brought gifts. In fact, they're the whole purpose of my trip."
"Didnt miss me ehh? Sure, gifts let's see them." said Robert
In a slight of hands, he extracted a bottle out of his jacket, along with two cups filled with ice. He poured both, stepping toward the king. The guards attempted to intercept him, but Robert shooed them away, his nose already detecting alcohol from several paces.
Robert grabbed his cup and downed it instantly.
Sebastian did the same, tilting his mask just enough to reveal a hint of his face.
"AHHH—THAT IS THE GOOD SHIT!" Robert laughed, snatching the bottle for himself.
"You still sing brat?" he asked, the memory finally surfacing.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
On a beautifully decorated balcony of the Red Keep, the King sat drinking his new obsession: vodka on the rocks. Before him, the sea shimmered. Guarding him were Ser Barristan Selmy and Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer.
In a small chair beside him sat Sebastian.
"Beautiful, aye?" Robert asked.
"It is indeed quite beautiful, my King," Sebastian answered politely.
"Not so disrespectful now, eh little brat?" Robert grumbled.
Sebastian only shrugged.
"Any suggestions, my King?"
Robert leaned back, staring at the sea, the memories, the cold wind of old battles, the strange boy beside him.
"Something about the sea. And adventure."
"Very well. Something from the past, then." Sebastian paused.
"Before I begin, my King,have you heard of Valhalla?"
"Should I?" Robert frowned.
"Far, far away, there was a tribe made for battle, drinking, and fucking."
Robert perked up immediately.
Sebastian continued.
"Valhalla, the hall of heroes. They believed only a warrior's death was honorable. At their last breath, their spirits were taken by female warriors on winged horses. Then they would feast, drink, fight and fuck until the final war, Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods."
Robert was enthralled. Ser Barristan considered it a children's tale, though a fascinating one. Jaime… would rather be anywhere else.
Sebastian stomped the floor rhythmically and began to sing, deeper than expected:
"Ships on vigor of the waves are skimming
Barren summits to the verdant plains
Each horizon is a new beginning
Rise and reign—"
The trio stared out at the waves.
"Far from the fjords and the ice-cold currents
Ravens soar over new frontiers…"
Their blood stirred.adventure, battle, freedom. A ship, the sea, and no responsibilities.
"Oh-ho-oh The echoes of eternity
Oh-ho-oh Valhalla calling me
Oh-ho-oh To pluck the strings of destiny
Oh-ho-oh
Valhalla calling me
Valhalla calling me..."
And at the end of it all,death.
GLORIOUS DEATH.
A WARRIOR'S END.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Cersei Lannister loved being Queen,the attention, the power, the wine. What she hated with every fiber of her being? Her husband.
At first, Robert hadn't been so… unbearable. Crude, loud, drunk, but at least handsome and tolerable in bed. Then he grew fat… and more insufferable. Thank the gods their "marital duties" had been fulfilled long ago, or she would have truly considered renaming King's Landing to Queen's Landing.
She glanced at Jaime, who seemed completely lost in thought.
"What has you so spaced out, Jaime?" she asked, only half interested.
Jaime sighed.
"Our new guest, the northern bard."
"The disrespectful northern rat, you mean. The one whose pay is so low he has to beg for coins with stupid little songs?" Cersei smirked, thrilled by the idea of someone humiliating himself before Robert. She wasnt there, but her ladies told her what happened.
Jaime sighed again.
"You don't understand. The way he talked to the King,as if they'd known each other for years. And the show on the balcony… He's better than any bard I've ever heard. For a moment, I wanted to steal a ship and set sail. It was that good."
Cersei barely cared. Still, a northern butler familiar with Robert? That was a message worth sending to the old Lion.
But for now, she turned to her brother, voice shifting into a purr.
"A ship…"
"Yes?" Jaime said, oblivious for a second.
"My, my… and you would steal the Queen of all Westeros…?" she whispered.
Jaime finally caught on.
Valhalla be damned, he thought, giving in to lust.
Fiercer than ever, Cersei celebrated internally.
_ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ __ _
A/N: This is pure wishfullfilment and SI. Hoped you liked it