Jon
Meera, Jojen, and Jon were passing through a small market in Bitterbridge while Robb paid his respects to the local lords. A few Stark soldiers accompanied them for their safety.
Their group was now traveling along the Roseroad, finally clear of the Kingswood. For Jon, it had been an unforgettable experience so far. Some good, some bad, but entirely worth it. They had tasted the finest roasted fish in the Riverlands and savored Dornish Red at the King's insistence. They had smelled things in King's Landing worse than Robb's training shoes. They had met mummers, scammers, dancers, singers, healers, and bakers, people who lived their lives to the fullest, knowing that nothing was certain except today.
Now on the Roseroad, they had ditched their previous clothes at the insistence of Ser Barristan and Sebastian. Jon had once thought the summer heat in the Riverlands and the Crownslands was annoying, but he had not expected a summer in the Reach. Small beads of sweat ran along his forehead. And just like them, he saw how the people wore thinner fabrics. Nearby farmers also sold fruit at the roadside, melons, peaches, fireplums, and more goods. He had tasted them all, enjoying every juicy and delicious bite. The towns they passed were filled to the brim with flowers of every color, which adorned and perfumed the roads.
Maybe that's why they call their bastards Flowers, he mused to himself, theorizing about how bastards were maybe named based on the abundance of the land. Flowers for the Reach, Sand for Dorne and Snow for the North. Now he was more at peace with his identity, for he had spent long moments thinking about it.
But, at the end of the day, he was just Jon. He was a bastard that is true, but he was also a brother, a son, and a friend.
Maybe someday a husband and a father, he thought, while discreetly glancing at a red headed woman with a baby in one arm on a nearby stall.
Her dress hugged her curves graciously accentuating her curves in all the right places due to the fabric clinging with her sweat. He remained stoic until a voice spoke beside him.
"She has nice, big breasts," the voice said. Jon's ears turned red while an annoying Meera laughed in his face.
"Meeeraaa," he said, flustered at being caught.
"What? Can't a woman describe the beauty of another woman?" she added, cheerfully enjoying Jon's reaction.
"Ugh," Jon lamented, looking for any distraction to get away from them.
"You had to interrupt him, Meera? I was clearly enjoying the frost our dear Snow was provoking. He sure likes to brood on the side," Jojen said with an impassive face, save for the twinkle in his moss like green eyes.
Jon looked at Jojen and doubled down.
"And you, Jojen? Tits or butts?" Jon asked, noticing a small twitch of annoyance on Jojen's face.
"Butt. A good butt for my man would be ideal. If he has a firm butt, it means his body is sculpted from top to bottom," Meera added with no shame whatsoever, or so she tried to appear. Jon detected a quick glance in Theon and Domeric's direction.
"Why do you think those bards are wearing masks?" Jojen asked, equal parts curious and trying to change the subject. Meera rolled her eyes.
"I think he is also a tits guy, unless he's a pillowbiter," Jon said with a curious look while Meera stifled her laughter.
"I am a butt guy!" Jojen roared, only to notice the nearby townsfolk giving him weird stares. Jon and Meera laughed while Jojen, usually accustomed to sensing small inconveniences in his friends' lives, fell silent.
Jojen huffed.
* Tuck. *
A child tripped, accidentally launching a small pebble that hit a nearby vinegar seller. The man stumbled, dropping one of his jugs directly in their path. Jojen sidestepped perfectly, but Meera and Jon were suddenly drenched in the pungent odor of vinegar.
Jojen smirked as they walked, while Meera tried to wipe the vinegar from her face. But Jojen's revenge was short lived as Meera turned to him with a grin.
"Deeeaar Jojeeeen, how about a sisterly hug?" she said, lunging for him. He tried to escape, but Jon was already blocking his way with a fresh jug of vinegar in hand, the seller having been made two copper stars richer for the trouble.
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Robb
The heir to Winterfell looked at the Lord in front of him with a stoic expression. He could see the disdain hidden in Lord Caswell's eyes behind a fatherly smile. He would have preferred sweating through training with Ser Rodrik or enjoying the market with Jon and his friends, but Sebastian had reminded him of his purpose: to meet every Lord and heir along their route.
There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests, he mused on Sebastian's words while making small talk with Lorent, the Caswell heir. Lorent was a young boy, perhaps Arya's age, who tried to stand taller in an imaginary battle of manliness.
"Oh my, Robb, we need to go back to the inn and check on the boys," Sebastian said from his side.
"You are not staying?" Lorent asked, his pride wounded by the early end of their meeting.
"No, my brothers await me at a nearby inn. My horse gets grumpy whenever I am away for too long," Robb excused himself, seeing a flicker of understanding in Lorent's eyes.
"Yes, yes. My father taught me that a horse is a knight's greatest companion. You should go, Robb," Lorent said solemnly. Robb kept a straight face to hide his discomfort at Lorent's naivety. On their way out, Sebastian suspiciously bumped into a nearby servant.
"Pardon, milord!" the freckled servant squeaked, and Sebastian calmly waved the man off.
They said their goodbyes and departed for the inn with the Stark guards.
"What are you scheming ?" Robb asked Sebastian once they were clear.
"Me? scheming? What are you insinuating?" Sebastian asked defensively.
Robb rolled his eyes at the antics.
"You never answered my question, you just asked your own. Now answer, Sebastian," the heir of Winterfell ordered.
Sebastian looked at his "small lording" with fondness. He ruffled Robb's hair with pride. "You're growing up fast pup. Keep it up and you'll make poor Sebastian cry," he laughed. After a moment, he continued. "News of our group is traveling fast. The Direwolves, the Lizard, and the Kraken, a bunch of unruly kids in search of glory, are now on their way to Highgarden."
Robb digested the words and sighed.
"We should leave sooner, then, before I receive more marriage offers-" he groaned.
"-I would rather face a hungry beast than deal with another old man searching for an alliance" Robb complained.
Sebastian shrugged. "You do realize you are one of the most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms?"
"When I first heard that, I thought you were exaggerating," Robb admitted.
"Not in the slightest, my lord. And you should prepare yourself, for it will only get worse," Sebastian mused.
"Does this have to do with those strict dancing lessons you insisted on?" Robb asked, his legs still protesting the seventh hour of "etiquette classes."
"A dance is a battlefield of its own," Sebastian added with mirth.
"I prefer a real battlefield," Robb countered.
"Good news, then. There is a tourney in Highgarden that coincides with our arrival," Sebastian shared.
"Really? You... but Ser Rodrik?" Robb asked, weighing the implications.
"He will look the other way just this once. But prepare for hell once this is all over" Sebastian warned.
Robb laughed, throwing an arm over Sebastian's shoulder.
"Good job, Sebastian. And you know, you've just given me a wonderful idea. How about marrying you off to one of my bannermen's daughters?"
Sebastian suddenly walked much faster to avoid him, leaving Robb laughing behind him.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
The Westerlands – Casterly Rock
Lord Tywin Lannister's Solar
Lord Tywin sat in his chair, candles illuminating the room as he worked. Even alone, he sat with a straight back and a stoic countenance. His door was flung open with force. The Halfman entered with a smirk while Lord Lannister ignored him.
"My, and I thought my dear, loving father missed me," Tyrion said, swaggering to a seat with annoyance. His efforts were met with silence. That, more than anything, stung.
"I thought you would be happier to see me. Perhaps I should pray to an eighth god of the Seven that might yield better results. Or burn me as a heretic, can't decide"
Tywin continued writing, added sand to dry the ink, and pressed his seal onto the parchment. He looked Tyrion in the eye, Tyrion looked away.
"Don't stare so deeply, or I'll blush." joked Tyrion
"Speak or begone. I am not so bored that I require your performance. If you want attention, go to the Old Toad's grave and enjoy his silence as your reward. A dead fool for a living one" Tywin said.
Tyrion tensed.
"Fine, my dear Lord Father. I bring news from afar. Lord Stark rejected our candid offer and instead offered me a lovely visit to the Wall. With no wine. He should have beheaded me then and there, but alas, I survived," Tyrion recounted to Tywin's frozen face.
"I met the boy, brilliant lad, and a heavenly cook, mind you. Sadly, he rejected our offer as well. Poor lad will drink to his grave."
Tywin nodded slightly while pouring wine for himself, offering none to Tyrion.
Tyrion looked annoyed.
"And the Wall? They are preparing for war, it seems. They are manning the ruined castles and asked me for help. It seems the crows are not as loyal to the Starks as one might think. I promised them some steel, doesn't hurt to make friends for the sake of gossip. I also heard of a small falling out between the lad and Lady Catelyn."
"And your thoughts?" Tywin probed.
"Mmm, perhaps a ruse. He did catch our attention, after all, and someone needs to pay that price. To cut a loose end. Doesn't seem like the Starks but maybe it's the woman's idea. I also recruited some of our own in Mole's Town in exchange for relocating their families to better lands. It will be a slow process, but with the lad gone, our information network can return to what it was," Tyrion shared, tensing as he waited for a reaction that never came.
"Dismissed" Tywin said, already reaching for a new report.
The Halfman laughed bitterly, even when he almost froze his balls off at the Wall, recognition remained out of reach. He was about to stand when hurried steps echoed in the corridor, followed by a furious knock. Tywin looked displeased, but Tyrion understood the urgency immediately.
"Enter, my friend." Tyrion called.
Maester Creylen entered breathlessly, fear in his eyes.
"What has you so worked up, Maester?" Tyrion asked.
"My... my Lord, urgent news. Ser Gerion has returned to Westeros, and he brings Brightroar with him!" the Maester gasped, leaving Tyrion in shock and Tywin in a heavy, ringing silence.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ __ _ _
Bonus
"Sebastian what are you? A tits or butt guy?" Robb asked, looking at his friends' curious faces.
Sebastian contemplated the existential question before giving an unexpected answer.
"Thighs…Tits and butts are temporal, my lord. But thighs? Thighs are eternal." Sebastian shared his wisdom to the group's confusion, though Jojen nodded furiously, as if he had just received the holy gospel.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _
Author thoughts: Writing this fanfic feels like writing a thesis. I had 14 opened tabs, the first book opened, asoiaf wiki, the asoiaf map, worderefence for synonims, and a bunch of articles in different wikis for small additions (old toad was a fool in casterly rock, creylen maester in casterly rock, ) Had to correct the name for the reeds sigil (they are lizard-lions, I used Lizards for short), reread previous chapter (to include Gerion Lannister, for the series péople, Gerion is the last brother of Tywin. He went to Valyria to recover the Lannister's Valyrian's blade. He failed and died in canon, not here).
Also, 25 chapters damn, the asoiaf world is massive, and it's hard to keep track with all the f troublemakers in this world (where is euron, what will varys do, what happens with the wildlings, what is happening with the dothrakis, what about dorne, young griff and Jon con and daenerys, my God).
Hopefully I can go Highgarden, Dorne and then timeskip (and end of arc 1)
Damn, so yeah, hope you like it, comments, write a review, send a stone, or not.
Have a good day.