Steve joined the crowd in cheering as Rhaegar Targaryen knocked his opponent off his horse, securing his victory and place as champion. From a field of hundreds, it had been narrowed down to one, and the crowd was thunderous in its applause for the silver prince. His black armour gleamed under the sun, rubies shining, and he did a circuit of the field, broken lance raised in salute to the people

Steve and his friends were seated with the Vaiths once more, Deryk and his family welcoming and cheerful companions. Their seats were not the most central, but they still had a good view, and they could see the main stand, where the king and the most powerful lords were seated.

As they watched, a servant walked out to Rhaegar and presented a crown of flowers to him. At the Prince’s direction, the crown was hung on the tip of his lance.

Naerys had told him about the practice of crowning a lady the Queen of Love and Beauty, and he had to say he thought well of it.

“Little Elia will be so happy,” Tyta Vaith said, to her husband more than anyone.

Rhaegar approached the main stand, and from the tip of his lance, bestowed the crown of flowers upon his chosen queen. The cheers and applause, so thunderous only a moment ago, dropped off in a wave. Smiles, worn so easily, fell from faces. As Lyanna Stark stared down at the crown in her lap, Rhaegar rode past his wife and quit the field, leaving a dull roar of confusion in his wake.

“Am I missing something?” Steve asked Naerys. “That seemed like a dumb move.”

“No,” Naerys said. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. “That was a stupid, foolish decision.”

“That was not knightly of him,” Keladry said.

“How dare he,” Tyta said softly. “How dare he,” she repeated, stronger this time.

“Time to take our leave, perhaps,” Deryk said to his wife and sons.

“I think you should head back to the rooms,” Steve said to his friends. The mood of the crowd wasn’t ugly, but it felt like it might turn that way. Over on the main stand, he could see Brandon arguing furiously with someone.

“What are you going to do?” Keladry asked, even as she got to her feet.

“Have a word with the Starks,” he said. “I don’t think they’re in a good position.”

“Be careful,” Naerys said. “This isn’t something you want to get caught up in.”

“Hey,” Steve said. “It’s me.”

Most of the crowd seemed stunned, as many staying in their seats as were seeking to leave. Steve made his way out of the stands and to a position behind them where he would be able to see the Starks as they left.

It didn’t take long. He soon saw the four siblings leaving their stand, Bandon with one arm around Lyanna’s shoulders, still clearly furious, while Benjen followed and Ned brought up the rear. Many stared at them as they hurried to make their exit. Rather than join them immediately, Steve followed, a short distance behind and beside them.

They made straight for the castle, leaving the lakeside tournament grounds behind. As they passed through the gates, Steve fell in beside them.

“Stark,” Steve said to the group at large.

“Rogers,” Brandon said, voice terse. “Did you need something.”

“If you need me to, I can take Lyanna and disappear before dark.”

Brandon stumbled, almost taking Lyanna with him. He still hadn’t taken his arm off her shoulders. “Excuse me?”

“I’m told royalty is hard to say no to,” Steve said. “We haven’t known each other long, but Lyanna is a good kid, and I’m not one to stand by and watch.”

They kept walking in silence, as Brandon struggled to find an answer. Despite himself, the Stark heir allowed his pace to slow. “We are Starks,” he said. “The Targaryens can claim what they like, but the North knows one lord, and his name is Stark.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve said. “The offer stands.”

“I appreciate it,” Brandon said. “I don’t think things will go that far, the prince was just a fu - a fool.”

Lyanna was quiet, and Steve noticed that she still held the crown of flowers, clenched in one fist.

“I’ll leave you be then,” Steve said, preparing to break off.

“Rog-Steve,” Brandon said. “Thank you. I was hoping to drink and boast of the melee with you tonight, but I don’t think I’ll be in the mood.”

“Some other time then,” Steve said.

“Brandon,” Ned interrupted. When his brother turned back to face him, he gave a pointed look towards Steve. After a moment, Brandon seemed to understand.

“I’m getting married in some short months,” Brandon said, “at Riverrun. I would like you to be there.”

“I’d be glad to,” Steve said. “What would be a suitable wedding gift in Westeros?”

“Surprise me,” Brandon said. He seemed lighter now. “I would love to see what manner of gifts your homeland bestows on newlyweds.”

Steve smiled, and made his departure, giving his farewells to the siblings.

Maybe he’d overreacted a bit, and the whole thing was just a faux pas rather than a sign of bad royal attention...but his gut, and the reaction of the crowd told him he hadn’t. Time would tell.

X

A pall had fallen over the castle in the wake of the final joust, and what should have been a roaring end to the greatest tournament that perhaps the land had ever seen was instead a clouded occasion, moods downturned despite the sunny sky. Wherever people gathered, it was like they feared to be too merry, and whenever someone forgot themselves they quickly quieted.

Many kept to themselves entirely, Steve and his companions included. He had considered taking the chance to speak with some of the other nobility, to get a feel for the mood, but thought better of it. He’d probably end up coming across Rhaegar and pushing him down some stairs for being a no good cad to his wife. They passed the day in conversation instead, taking care of their daily routine of martial practice and literacy instruction. Naerys had put on some solid definition as a result of the past month and change of training. Soon, Steve thought she might be ready for more advanced instruction.

Toby slipped down to the stables at one point, checking on the horses and their cart to ensure all was well. Robin disappeared too, likely to seek out his friend Lyanna, and the adults took the chance to pack what equipment they could. There was a feeling in the air that made them want to be ready to leave as soon as they wished.

Come the evening, Steve found himself on the balcony of his shared bedroom, staring up into a grey sky. Clouds had blown in with surprising swiftness over the afternoon, and now it looked to be threatening a storm. His mind went back to Mjolnir, and the last time he had attempted to summon the mighty hammer.

He reached out, in body and spirit, seeking the weapon of his comrade. It was the little one, sure, but he’d taken a liking to it in the short time he’d--

“Fuck,” Steve said, unable to help himself as his hand spasmed in pain. His hand felt like he’d pressed it into hot coals, and he grasped at his wrist in an attempt to soothe the pain. His skin was pink and clear, but he could swear he could smell burnt flesh. The moment passed, and the pain faded, the smell with it.

“Are you alright Steve?” Naerys called out from within the bedroom.

“Fine,” Steve called back. He flexed his hand. There was something terribly wrong here, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

X x X

The storm of the previous night broke to blue skies on the final morning of the tournament. Some of the ill mood of the previous day had been cast off with it, the lords and ladies of Westeros determined to enjoy the last of the festivities. Some, but not all. The gates saw a small trickle of attendees passing through them, even as early as the morning.

From the balcony of his room, Steve watched as people below hurried to and fro, going about their business. “Naerys,” he said over his shoulder. “How quickly could we leave?”

“Very, if we needed to,” Naerys said, coming out to join him by the edge. “Do we need to?”

After a moment, Steve answered, “no. But I would like to be gone before the day’s over.”

“Toby said the horses are in good order,” she said. “The most important task will be speaking with Lord Whent and having your winnings transferred into your possession. All else can be done at our leisure.”

“We’ll take care of that last,” Steve said. “For now, let everyone know to say their goodbyes to whomever they want to. We’ll leave early in the afternoon.”

Naerys lingered for a moment. “I never thought I’d see anything like this,” she said, almost wistful.

“It’s been something,” Steve said. “But there’s more to come. Just picture what Braavos is going to be like.”

“The Titan, the canals, the bravos,” Naerys said. “I read about it once. I can’t wait to see it.”

“We can explore the city while we’re there,” Steve offered. “No need to dump the money and run. Pick up a few souvenirs.”

“I would like that,” Naerys said. “Braavos is a centre of trade, and has many books,” she said excitedly. She coughed. “We should take the opportunity to make more practical purchases too.”

“We should have about a week there, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve said. “What are your plans for today?”

“I will say my farewells to Tyta,” Naerys said. “I’m glad to have met her.”

“I need to speak with Lyanna,” Steve said.

“Lyanna Stark?” Naerys asked.

“No, the serving girl,” Steve answered. “I owe her a favour and I don’t want to run off without paying it. Barristan asked me to see him before I left too.”

“I won’t keep you then,” Naerys said, stepping away. “If we linger, we won’t have time to make any distance before sunset.”

Steve followed Naerys inside, and she went to knock on Keladry’s door, while he stepped out into the receiving room. Robin was halfway out the exit, and he called to him. “Robin, do you know where Lyanna is?”

“Yeah,” Robin said, drawing it out. “I was just going to see her.”

“I’ll tag along,” Steve said. “I want to talk to her about that favour.”

Robin brightened at that, and they left the suite behind them. As they made their way through the tower, they discussed the tournament, filling the air with casual talk. Robin had been practicing his archery with the reed ring he had taken from the archery competition, and had succeeded in threading his arrow through the target twice already.

It was with an ease that suggested Robin had been spending more time running around the tower than Steve had first thought that the kid led the way, eventually finding Lyanna sweeping in a corridor a few levels up.

Lyanna smiled when she saw Robin, but it turned into more of a smirk when she saw Steve following behind. “Come lookin’ for another favour, m’lord?” she asked.

“Looking to pay one off,” Steve said.

“You don’t waste no time,” she said.

“We’re leaving today, and I’m not going to go back on my word.”

Robin turned to face Steve, surprise writ on his face. “But the tournament doesn’t end until tomorrow.”

“I want to get clear before the roads are full of carriages,” Steve said, “and before anyone can decide to try their luck for the gold.” He looked back to Lyanna. “Did you have something you needed?”

Lyanna had looked startled at the news they were to leave that day, but then her brow furrowed in thought. Her eyes darted between Robin and Steve. “I want a position in a lord or lady’s retinue,” she said. “A good one, not someone who will beat me or use me. If that’s not an option, a place in another castle.”

Steve eyed the servant girl as her rough manner of speech fell away.

“I’ve been told I’m a decent boss.”

Lyanna did her best to appear unfazed by the offer, her expression cool, but Steve could see her toes wiggling in excitement. Her shoes were poor quality; he’d have to change that.

“I would appreciate such a generous offer, my lord,” Lyanna said.

Steve waved her off. “I don’t do things like most lords, so just call me Steve,” he said, before an image of Naerys praying for patience crossed his mind’s eye. “Unless we’re in court or something. Use your best judgement.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lyanna said. She seemed uncertain of how to respond, like a dog that had caught the postman.

Robin was struggling to hold back a wide smile, and Steve raised an eyebrow at him. Immediately, he became the picture of sober patience.

“Here,” Steve said, retrieving a coin from his belt pouch and handing it to Robin. Both kids tracked the gold coin with their eyes, and he was reminded of a few cat videos he had seen involving laser pointers. “Go and get a wardrobe sorted out, same as Naerys took care of for everyone when we arrived. Don’t worry about getting my star put on them, we can do that on the road.” He thought for a moment. “Don’t forget good shoes and some warm gear; I think Braavos is a bit of a ways north from here.”

“Braavos, m- Steve?” Lyanna asked.

“It’s just temporary,” Steve said. “We’ll be making a deposit at the Iron Bank and then returning to the Riverlands for a wedding.”

“What will my responsibilities be?” Lyanna’s shoulders were set, and she seemed almost to be girding herself for battle.

“Helping out with what needs doing. Chores and the like,” Steve said. His mind blanked for a moment as he tried to remember what Naerys had told him about what was expected of a lord. “In return I’ll provide for you and protect you, you’ll be taught to read and write, and given self defence lessons if you want. Naerys, my seneschal, will be the one giving you tasks for the most part. You’re quick on your feet and you’ve got a smart head on your shoulders, so you’ll be fine,” he said to reassure her.

Lyanna gave Robin a disbelieving look.

“Steve is very generous,” Robin said.

Steve felt like there was something he was missing. “Whatever is left of that coin after you’ve got what you need is yours,” he said. Signing bonuses were a thing here, surely. “Am I forgetting anything?”

“I’ll find Naerys if I have any trouble,” Robin said. With the hand not clenching the gold dragon tight, he took Lyanna’s hand and began to pull her away.

“Be back at the rooms inside two hours,” Steve called as they disappeared around a corner. He heard them break into a run as soon as they were out of sight, and if he heard them give a giddy laugh, well, that was only fair.

X

Barristan was easy to find, despite Steve’s initial thought that he’d have to track the man down. He found him in the rooms that the Kingsguard appeared to have taken for their headquarters, and was let in by the servants with little fuss.

“Steve,” Barristan said, sounding surprised by his appearance. Again, he was doing maintenance work on a sword, sitting adjacent to the round table at the centre of the room. “What brings you here?”

“You said you wanted to speak with me before I left, so I thought I’d drop by,” Steve said.

“Ah,” Barristan said. “Another early departure then?” He gestured for Steve to join him by the table.

“I want to be on the road by early afternoon,” Steve said.

“Good, good,” Barristan said. “Yesterday’s events have cast something of a shadow on the remaining festivities.”

“I’m not so concerned about that, anymore at least,” Steve said. “What decisions Rhaegar makes in his personal life aren’t my business.” So long as they didn’t cause trouble to the people caught in the middle, anyway. “I just want to get my winnings and be gone before anyone starts planning any ambushes.”

“I’m not sure there are any so foolish after your showings this past week,” Barristan said.

“There’s always a better idiot,” Steve said.

Barristan’s eyes went distant, as if remembering something. “Yes,” he said, with a cough. “Well. Perhaps such an idiot will be stymied by your lackluster skills with that hammer of yours.”

“Lackluster?” Steve asked. “Don’t put yourself down like that, it took more than ‘lackluster’ to knock you down.”

“Oh indeed, but that hunk of metal had little to do with it,” Barristan said, placing his whetstone on the table.

Steve pulled a face, acknowledging the point. “The melee was my first time using it,” he admitted.

“It shows,” Barristan said, voice dry. “Perhaps not to the average knight, and your speed and strength cover many sins, but it’s easy to see that your shield is your primary weapon.”

“I’ve carried it with me for years,” Steve said. Decades, if you counted his time in the ice.

“Strange choice for your primary weapon,” Barristan said.

“It felt right, first time I picked it up,” Steve said. The sense of rightness he’d felt when Peggy had shot at him had been the deciding factor, but he kept that to himself.

“Is the damage to it a recent development?” Barristan asked, peering at his own blade.

“Fairly,” Steve said. He got the feeling that Barristan wasn’t so much interested in his answer than in putting something off.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“A skilled blacksmith could likely make it whole again,” the knight said.

“Physically, maybe,” Steve said. “I don’t think that anyone here has the metal to truly make it whole.”

“Still, perhaps you could have a cap of sorts made for it, to provide you more cover,” Barristan said.

Steve made a noise of agreement, but said nothing, instead watching Barristan.

The middle aged knight sighed. “Forgive me, Steve. I have much on my mind.”

“The sort of thing you can’t talk about?” Steve asked.

Barristan glanced at him, and placed his sword on a cloth on the table. “I am supposed to be guarding His Grace at this time.”

“Schedule changed?”

“I guard the Prince, now,” Barristan said. He got to his feet and began to pace. “Arthur and I were commanded to exchange duties.”

“That’s not normal?” Steve asked. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees.

“No. A recent development. One that came after your victory.”

Steve inspected the man. He seemed conflicted. “You think it was because of our duel.”

Barristan remained silent, coming to a halt at a window. The sun shone down upon him.

“Say, you must have some pretty good stories of your adventures guarding the royals,” Steve said.

“The Kingsguard are sworn to keep the secrets of their charges,” Barristan said.

“Sounds like quite the job.”

“A high honour, yes,” Barristan said. “But a demanding one, at times.”

“Well, all you can do is what’s right,” Steve said. “Stay true to your oaths and all that.”

“...yes, just so.”

“Probably a good thing I’m leaving today,” Steve said.

Barristan turned to face him.

“Bad weather on the horizon and all that,” Steve continued, nodding towards the window.

“It is always a possibility,” Barristan allowed. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Well, I appreciate the chat, Barristan,” Steve said. He got to his feet.

“The pleasure was mine,” Barristan said. “You will be gone for a time, I presume?”

“A short while, yeah,” Steve said. “Off to the Iron Bank, but back right after to see Brandon Stark get married.”

“Riverrun, yes?” Barristan asked, brow creased in thought.

“That’s the one.”

“And after?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Steve said. “I might go north

Barristan’s expression eased, and he offered his hand. “I shall look forward to the next time we meet. You’d best remain sharp.”

“Sharp enough to put you on the ground again, old man,” Steve said, clasping the offered hand.

“Youth,” Barristan said, scoffing, but he had regained some cheer that had been missing. “One victory and they summon the minstrels.”

“I spoke with Rhaegar when I was in King’s Landing,” Steve said.

“At the feast?”

“No, in the godswood, afterwards.”

“It is the Prince’s prerogative as to whom he speaks,” Barristan said carefully.

“He was sounding me out, mostly,” Steve said candidly. “Seeing if I was going to be a threat, I think.”

“I couldn’t speak for his thoughts,” the Kingsguard said. “But a Prince must consider things that a knight rarely needs to.”

“I don’t blame him,” Steve said. “Just wanted to give you a heads up, if you usually guard the King. I’ve walked into spy games unprepared before. I learned quick so it wouldn’t happen again.”

“I appreciate the thought, Ser Steve,” Barristan said, “but such things are not the concern of the Kingsguard.”

Steve drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Just keep an eye open, or one day you’ll have to choose between what’s right and what’s easy.”

“As you say,” Barristan said, somewhat stiffly.

“Take care of yourself, Barristan,” Steve said.

“And you,” Barristan said. “If the gods are good, court will have settled when next we meet.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Steve said.

Their goodbyes said, the two men, knights both, went about their business. It would be some months before they met again, and it would not be in a situation that brought them joy.

X

Like the last time Steve had dropped in on Ashara, there was a faint scramble before she opened the door to receive him. The Dayne woman leant against the door, opening it only halfway.

“Ser Steve,” Ashara said, smiling. She did not look quite as put together as the previous times he’d seen her, but her beauty was still quite clear. “What brings you here?”

“Two things,” Steve said. “One, I’m leaving today, and wanted to say goodbye - I don’t suppose Ned is around?” he asked, glancing over Ashara’s shoulder.

“Not this day,” Ashara said, her smile dimming. “We thought he should be with family. What was the second?”

“I know you’re friends with the Princess, so I wanted to offer my...sympathies, I guess,” he said awkwardly.

“To me?” Ashara asked, brow raised.

“To the Princess,” Steve said. “I only met her briefly at the Red Keep, but what happened isn’t any way to treat a dame.”

Ashara twitched suddenly, almost as if she had been poked in the side by someone lurking out of sight behind the door. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “Did you want to ask something of the Princess?”

“No?” Steve said. He noticed that Ashara’s cheeks were flushed, and he could smell a faint scent of wine.

“Hmm,” Ashara said. She twitched again, before putting on a practised smile. “Why don’t you come in, Ser Steve?”

Steve heard the scampering of quick feet on stone, but whoever it was was hidden by the still half open door.

“Sure, thanks,” Steve said. After a moment Ashara turned and headed deeper into her suite, and he followed. “I can’t stay too long,” he said.

“That is fine,” Ashara said, looking over her shoulder at him, dark hair framing purple eyes. Steve could understand why so many men were envious of Ned.

In the sitting room, the same he had visited prior, there was another person waiting, perched in a chair with one leg curled under themselves and the other stretched out to rest on a low table. Around the table were several delicate chairs, and on it was a tray of biscuits.

“Ser Steve!” the woman said by way of greeting, smiling at him. She held a glass goblet of white wine in one hand. “It is good to see you again.” Her dark hair was only loosely bound, and it trailed around her dark shoulders.

“Lady Leia,” Steve said. He took a seat after Ashara did, across from the two women. “Hope you’ve been doing well.”

“Marvelously,” Leia said. She gestured to the tray of biscuits with her wine. “Please, help yourself, or else we shall end up fat and unwanted as we finish another tray.”

Ashara visibly bit back a comment, settling for sticking her tongue out at Leia as she picked up a goblet that was apparently her own.

Steve took a biscuit and bit into it gently, trying for better manners than his last visit. They tasted of sweet citrus. “These are really good,” he said.

“I know, this is our third tray,” Leia said, munching on another one.

Steve paused for a moment, head tilted as he considered Leia. She looked somewhat different to what he recalled.

“‘Our’ third?” Ashara asked. She sat back in her chair, relaxed.

Leia flapped a hand at her. “Yes, our. But tell me, Ser Steve, you had a message for the Princess?”

Ashara sighed, drawing Steve’s gaze. “The Princess is a friend,” she said.

“Just my well wishes; I don’t know her at all,” Steve said.

“Why wish her well?” Leia asked. She swirled the wine in her goblet. “You are right in that you don’t know her well, and she was only passed over for a trifling prize without meaning, not jilted. Or do you think that already wilting crown of flowers meant something more?”

“Leia,” Ashara said, frowning at her.

“No, I want to know what he thinks,” Leia said.

“Do you mind if I’m blunt?” Steve asked.

“Please feel free,” Leia said, eager.

“What Rhaegar did is no way to treat a woman and I’m not used to people holding their tongues about it because of who the person is,” Steve said.

“Yes, woe to the man who treats his lady wife poorly,” Leia said, but it was mocking.

“No one should treat their partner badly,” Steve said. “What Rhaegar did reflects worse on him than it does Elia and Lyanna.”

“You think he insulted both women?” Leia asked.

“Well he certainly didn’t pay them a compliment,” Steve said, and his voice was heated now.

Leia laughed, short and loud. “No, he did not.” She looked into her wine. “He did not.”

Ashara shifted, as if she was going to rise, but settled back into her seat. Her gaze was on Leia, and she took a sip of wine when she saw Steve looking. “You’ve certainly had quite the tournament, Steve,” she said. “Was it everything you were hoping for?”

Steve made to answer, but his mind was elsewhere. Something about Leia was sticking in his head, but he couldn’t quite puzzle it out.

“It was a good time. I wish my friends from home could have been…” he trailed off. For a long moment he stared at Leia.

Noticing his stare, Leia hid her face in her goblet. “Yes?”

“Princess Elia?” Steve asked.

“Maybe,” Leia - Elia said. She took another sip.

Ashara drained her goblet and sighed heavily. “You dumb bitch.”

Elia, Princess of Westeros, snorted into her wine. Steve began to realise that the pair of them were quite tipsy. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He really should have figured this out earlier, no matter that she had clearly taken steps to change her appearance from her courtly visage.

“I have to admit, I don’t feel like the smartest man in the room right now,” Steve said.

“Oh, you saw me for all of a few heartbeats at the Red Keep,” Elia said. “What kind of Princess would I be if I couldn’t disguise myself?”

“Not a Dornish one,” Ashara said.

“And here I am badmouthing your husband to you,” Steve said.

“No, please, continue,” Ashara said. “She was clearly enjoying herself.”

“You said your mother called it the stitch and bitch?” Elia asked. “We call this one the whine and cheese.”

Steve looked at the biscuit tray. “Those are biscuits.”

“We had a cheese platter earlier, hush,” Ashara said.

For the next ten minutes, Steve had courtside seats to the Princess and her friend complaining about the shortcomings and failing of the Prince, ranging from his habit of reading at all hours of the night, to the time he broke her comb because he wasn’t looking where he was walking, to being unable to obtain something called a Myrish pie when she was pregnant with their daughter. Dutifully, Steve shared a tale of the time he had seen Pepper chasing Tony around the tower in a vain attempt to get him to attend some meeting or another. Elia finished her own wine, but neither woman called for a refill, and they slowly made their way through the biscuit tray.

“Rhaegar has a tendency to keep bashing his head against the wall until it gives way,” Elia said, and there was fondness in her voice even now.

“Perhaps we need to build a wall that can stand up to his stubborn head,” Ashara said.

Elia tittered. “Not with all the slaves in Essos could you build such a thing.”

Steve put down his biscuit. “Excuse me,” he said slowly, “the what.”

“I apologise; that was tasteless of me,” Elia said.

“No, not that,” Steve said, looking directly into the Princess’ eyes. “There are slaves in Essos. Across the Narrow Sea.”

“It is the backbone of their society,” Elia said, sharing a confused look with her friend.

“Slavery. And this is tolerated.”

“It is an abomination, but not one we are in a position to change,” Elia said.

“Have your companions not told you of Essos?” Ashara asked. “Of the so-called Free Cities?”

“Briefly,” Steve said. “Naerys focused on educating me on Westeros. We never discussed more than the geography.”

“Slavery is a fact of life from Tyrosh to Asshai-by-the-Shadow,” Ashara said. “Few are the city-states that do not partake.”

Steve stared at his hands. A faint tremor ran through them.

“Steve?” Elia asked. She reached out as if to lay a hand on him, but thought otherwise. “Are you well?”

“Slavery,” Steve said again, “and no one has ever attempted to change this?”

“Braavos is a city founded by fleeing slaves, and they have become a great power since the fall of the Valyrian Freehold,” Ashara said.

“The Freehold was a slave empire?” Steve asked. “When did they fall?”

“Some four hundred years ago,” Elia said. She shared a glance with her friend. The polite and friendly man they had been laughing with was gone.

“But slavery continues.”

“Braavos forced the capitulation of Pentos seventy years ago, and outlawed slavery,” Ashara said.

“Four hundred years, and only one more city has liberty for all,” Steve said flatly. “And it was forced on them.”

Ashara winced. “They still practice indentured servitude.”

“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction,” Steve recited. “Freedom is not a privilege of the powerful. It is a human right.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Elia said. “This must be very different to your homeland.”

“I’ve met people here who are good and kind,” Steve said, looking between the two women, “but my home would consider this a barbaric place.”

“Essos and its slavery?” Elia asked.

“Westeros and its feudal system,” Steve said, mouth twisting. “But Essos is...it sounds beyond the pale. My home isn’t perfect. There’s a lot that needs to be fixed, and a lot of shame in our past, but slavery is one thing we got right. We fought a bloody civil war over it. Seven hundred thousand people dead in four years, but we did what was right.”

“So much death, and you would see us as the barbarians,” Elia said. Her tone was neutral.

“We would,” Steve said. “Part of that is because it wasn’t too long ago that our society looked just like this.” He paused, searching for the right words. “We’re privileged to be able to look at something and decry it, but we have our own injustices. I hope that in another century or two, people will look back and call us barbarians.”

“A strange perspective,” Ashara said.

Steve smiled without humour. “I’ve had a unique experience that lets me look at a society from the outside.”

“Slavery is truly an abomination,” Elia said. “But even if the Conquerer had thrown Westeros against it when he took the throne, we would still be fighting it.”

“Some things you don’t do because you think you can win,” Steve said slowly, “you do it because it’s right.”

“Such a war would cause untold death and suffering,” Elia said. She was watching him closely now, eyes keen despite the flush of alcohol in her cheeks. “Perhaps more than slavery itself.”

“Suffering isn’t something you can balance and judge the worth of. Everyone deserves to be free,” Steve said. “‘We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable, that all are created equal and independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent and inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.’.”

“That is quite the declaration,” Ashara said.

Steve sat back in his chair, having almost risen out of it. “It’s uh, an important part of home,” he said. “Sorry, I get carried away sometimes.” He thought back to the time Tony had recorded him giving a high school speech and played the Battle Hymn of the Republic over it. At least he couldn’t go viral here.

“No,” Elia said. “Some things are worth getting carried away over.” She looked past him, and her eyes were distant.

There was a moment of silence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed a faster change from relationship woes to railing against the evils of slavery,” Ashara said.

Elia giggled, and Steve cracked a smile.

“Well, at least I know what I can do with my winnings now,” Steve said.

“Will you purchase and free slaves?” Elia asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said. His mind was not on the purchasing of slaves, but on steel, and ships. Braavos was founded on freedom from slavery. Perhaps he could ask a few questions while he was there.

“Ned tells me that you will be coming to Riverrun for his brother’s wedding?” Ashara asked.

“Brandon invited me the other day,” Steve said. “I’m happy for him.”

“Good,” Ashara said. “Good.” Her smile was secretive.

“I must return to my quarters soon, or I will be missed,” Elia said with a sigh. “Thank you for today, Ash,” she said to her friend, before turning to Steve. “And thank you for your thoughts. They are appreciated.”

“El-er, Princess,” Steve said, bowing his head slightly.

“I hope we can see each other again,” the Dornish Princess said.

“I look forward to it,” Steve said. “I hope things work out with your husband.”

“Rhaegar will do as he does,” Elia said, “but I know he will be there for our children, and that is all that matters.” She drew a lock of dark hair out of her face. “Safe travels, Lord America.”

Ashara saw the two of them to her door, and they departed, going their separate ways. Steve saw a discreet guard emerge from another door down the hall and join Elia, and then he rounded the corner and was away. It was almost time to leave.

X

The steward of Harrenhal was a severe man, and he reminded Steve of an accountant he had once seen dressing down a member of Strike before the whole Insight business. The dozen guards he had with him almost felt like set dressing, although four of them bore heavy wooden chests that caught his eye. They were made of dark wood with a faint sheen of lacquer, with metal loops for handles on the sides and flat tops. They lacked adornment, but were clearly of quality make.

When Steve had passed word that he wanted to collect his prize money, he had been guided to an empty room on the ground floor of the Tower of Ghosts, away from all the bustle of the tourney. Whether the Whents kept their vault in the tower, or if it was just misdirection, he couldn’t say. With Naerys and Keladry at his side, he had waited for a short while, discussing various nothings. Now that the steward had returned, they could get to it.

“Lord America,” the steward said formally. “We have here your winnings for the axe throwing, and for the melee, totalling twenty thousand gold dragons. If you would kindly inspect them to your satisfaction.”

The four guards carrying the chests set them down in the centre of the room, and stepped back. Naerys had coached him on what to expect, so he stepped up to them and opened each one. Piles of gold gleamed up at him, seeming to add a lustre to the lamplight of the room. He dug a hand down the side of one chest, reaching deep, and retrieved a coin. He eyed it for imperfections, acting as if he knew what he was doing. After a moment, he flicked it to Naerys, and moved on to the next chest while she performed her own inspection.

Naerys had told him of inspecting the vaults of Sharp Point with her father when she was a child, but had confided in him that it had never held wealth close to what lay before them now.

Chest by chest, Steve reached into the gold and dug around, ostensibly ensuring that they were each filled with gold and nothing but, and picking a coin at random to flick to his companions. He glanced to them, and received a nod from each in turn.

“I’m satisfied,” Steve told the steward. He closed the chests and pulled the latches shut.

“Very good,” the steward said. “I will have the men carry your prize to your suite.”

“No need,” Steve said. He began stacking the chests atop one another. “I’ll take them to our cart myself.” He dropped into a squat and lifted the stack from the bottom, rising easily. He could just see over the top of them with his arms extended.

A few of the guards exchanged glances.

“Shall I inform my lord that you are departing then?” the steward asked. There was just the faintest hint of disapproval in his tone.

“We may trust Lord Whent, but we would rather be on our way before any more disreputable sorts are aware,” Naerys said. “I’m sure you understand.” Her voice carried its own censure.

“Of course,” the steward said.

“Appreciate your help,” Steve said. “You have a good day now.”

He turned to leave, Keladry already leading the way, hand on the sword at her hip. Naerys kept to his side as they left the tower and emerged back into the Flowstone Yard, watching passersby distrustfully.

Steve eyed his friend, taking in the practical navy dress she wore. “We’ll have to get you something that will let you wear your sword with a dress,” he said.

“That would be quite the statement,” Naerys said, eyes flicking to Keladry and back. “But useful for the future, perhaps.”

“I figure we’re teaching you to use a sword, you might as well be able to wear it,” Steve said. They had rounded the Tower of Ghosts now, and were passing the old sept, near to where they had first set their tent up. As it was just after midday, on a day with no events to keep people occupied, there were plenty of folk going about their business, and Steve could feel eyes upon him and the chests he carried.

“You mentioned the desire to outfit Keladry with new armour,” Naerys said, “perhaps we could find a capable artisan at the same time?”

Ahead, Keladry twitched as if she wanted to turn around, but she remained focused forward.

“Not just Keladry,” Steve reminded her. “You’re not getting out of it either.”

“You cannot mean to outfit me in plate,” Naerys said flatly.

“That might be a bit much,” Steve said. “But I reckon we can find you something. Can’t have you getting wounded against some untrained bandits again.”

Naerys rubbed at her arm. It had healed by now, although there was still some lingering soreness, and a thin scar. “Perhaps an arming coat,” she said.

“And some leather armour, however they call it,” Steve said.

“A brigandine,” Keladry said, over her shoulder. “Ser Steve, the half plate you purchased for me is hardly a week old, it is too soon to buy another,” she added, back stiff.

“That was a rush job,” Steve said, waving her off. “You need something custom.”

They were in the thick of the tent village now, as they grew closer to the stables. Steve was a recognisable figure, and it wasn’t hard for anyone they passed to put two and two together and come up with twenty thousand gold dragons. The chests seemed to mesmerise those they passed - at least for a moment. After that first second, frowns would cross the faces of the covetous, as they visibly tried to reconcile the chests that surely must contain all that gold with the single man easily carrying them.

“As you say,” Keladry said.

Steve knew that tone. He used it himself all the time. “I do say,” he said.

“If you insist on outfitting us with new armour,” Naerys said, and her smile was sly, “then you should do the same for yourself.

“I already have armour,” Steve said, unsure why he was arguing.

“You have armour from your home,” Naerys said, “but you don’t have plate armour, fit for a battlefield.”

“I think it would do pretty well,” Steve said, brow raised. “It was made by Tony Stark, one of the greatest smiths in the world.” A few nearby ears perked up at his words, rewarded for their eavesdropping, and he winced. He could only imagine the rumours that would spawn.

“It may be, but the first thing people think when they see it isn’t how impressive it is, it’s curiosity at its oddness,” Naerys said. “You need armour to match you.”

“You saying I’m impressive, Naerys?” Steve asked.

“That is - objectively - yes,” Naerys said. “You are quite tall and have proven your strength.

“Does what armour I wear matter that much then?” Steve asked.

“Not as such, but impressions matter,” Naerys said. “And...you don’t have a way to repair your suit.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve said, frowning. His suit had been picking up small nicks and wears here and there. Nothing that came close to threatening its integrity, but it hadn’t exactly been fresh off the line even when he first arrived in Westeros.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about such things with a set of plate,” Naerys said. “And if your suit truly is superior, it could be saved for fights that matter.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being talked into something else here?” Steve asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Naerys said. “Plate armour will suit you very well, however. A star, front and centre on your chest of course, and your reds, whites, and blues could be included in the underlayer…”

Steve shook his head at her. Naerys had grown in leaps and bounds ever since getting out of Sharp Point. He was glad to see it.

The stables loomed ahead of them now, the building reaching almost a quarter way up the curtain walls, and running from the southern gate to the south east corner. There were many entrances, stablehands and other servants going in and out, this way and that, as they went about their business. Horse stalls lined either side, some single occupant, others large enough to hold a small herd. A farrier was reshoeing a horse in a section with a small forge, and over there a set of six white horses were being fastened to an ornate carriage. The entire structure stank of horse.

Keladry led the way to where Robin, Toby, and Lyanna were preparing for departure. The cart that had carried them from King’s Landing had been sold and replaced with a larger four wheeled wagon, and an additional pair of mules purchased. It sat before a large stall, within which all of their horses waited calmly. Toby was inside with them, shaking his finger at Redbloom as he spoke with the horse. He spied Dodger laying under the wagon, gnawing on a meaty bone.

“Right here Steve,” Robin called as he noticed them, gesturing to the back of the wagon.

Keladry jumped up onto the wagon, and between the two of them, they began to take the chests from Steve, placing them into the centre of the wagon where space had been left for them. From the looks of things, everything else had been packed as much as it could be while they were waiting for the most valuable cargo.

As he lifted the last chest for them to take, Steve noticed two jumbled sets of armour in the back corner of the wagon. “Is that…?”

Naerys noticed where he was looking. “I asked the boys to leave it somewhere within easy reach,” she said. “I can hardly sell it piece by piece at a whim if we have to dig it out from within the wagon each time.”

“Got it, and at half the price,” a girl’s voice announced as she approached them. Lyanna came trotting up, carrying a heavy folded up piece of canvas. She hesitated as she saw Steve, unsure how to greet him, but offered a quick curtsey before tossing the canvas up on the wagon.

“How’d you manage that?” Robin asked.

“I know what jobs he skimps out on,” Lyanna said.

Steve noticed that she was wearing a new dress, replacing the old threadbare one. “Clothes shopping go well?” he asked, as he stepped up to help Robin spread the canvas across the wagon to cover their belongings.

“Yes, my lord,” Lyanna said. “I have what’s left here.” She held out a pouch of coins and shook it.

“Didn’t I tell you that what was left over is yours?” Steve asked. “You didn’t buy the tarp with that, did you?”

Lyanna hesitated, answering his question.

“Speak with Naerys and she’ll fix you up for it,” Steve ordered. He ignored the whispered ‘told you so’ from Robin to Lyanna.

Nearby, Naerys overheard him and gave him a nod, but she was distracted, apparently listening to a pair of nearby young men who were rubbing down a horse.

“They’re killing me, Marten,” one boy said. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen. “Ser tells me that suffering builds character, but if I have to wear these sabatons one more time, I think I’ll cut my feet off instead.”

“You there, squire,” Naerys called out. The complaining squire looked up and around, finding the group looking at him. He pointed at himself, checking he was who Naerys meant. Receiving a beckoning gesture, he glanced at the star on Steve’s shirt for a moment before hurrying over. His fellow lingered further away, watching them uncertainly.

“How may I serve, my lady?” the kid asked.

“Your armour is giving you trouble?” Naerys asked.

“Oh no,” the squire said, suddenly worried. “Just the complaints of a squire. My lord outfits me well.”

“Hmm,” Naerys said. “Look at these,” she said, retrieving the boots of Hayford’s armour and handing them over.

The squire inspected them quickly. “All seems well?”

“Would they fit you?”

He goggled for a moment. “I, I think so?”

“A copper star and they’re yours,” Naerys said.

Now the boy’s jaw dropped. “Do you jest?”

“If you don’t want them…” Naerys said, hand rising as if to take them back.

“No! I’ll take them,” the squire said hurriedly. He turned and rushed to his friend. “The star you owe me, now,” he hissed out.

“I was going to get a cup of Arbor tonight,” the other boy complained, but he began to dig in his pockets.

The squire rushed back, fist clenched around the copper star like it was a gold dragon. “Here, my lady,” he said.

“Thank you,” Naerys said. She accepted the coin, and the squire beheld his prize.

“Do you mind, can I ask why you’re selling just the sabatons?” the squire asked. He caught sight of the rest of the armour on the back of the wagon.

“They belonged to a fool named Lord Hayford,” Naerys said. “I’m sure I’ll find a few willing folk to buy the rest of the pieces between here and the coast.”

The squire stumbled off with the explanation, rejoining his friend, who clapped him on the shoulder at his luck. Naerys watched with a smile, for all the world looking like a cat surrounded by feathers.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Robin said from atop the wagon.

“I’m sure he’s satisfied,” Naerys said.

“Hayford won’t be,” Robin said, smirking.

Toby emerged from amongst the horses and mules. He was wearing his old clothing, and there was a streak of slobber on his shoulder. “Redbloom and Bill had a bit of trouble, but it’s sorted now,” he reported.

“Bill?” Steve asked.

“One of the new mules,” Toby said. “‘E’s ornery.”

“You’ve got it under control though,” Steve said. He looked over the large stall, filled by their horses. Fury and Swiftstride, Redbloom, Qēlos and Malorie, Khal and Quicksilver, plus the four mules. They had the beginnings of a herd going. He swore Bill the mule and Redbloom the warhorse were eyeing each other with ill intent.

“Course I do,” Toby said. He wandered over to the wagon to help in tying the cover down to its sides.

In short order, they did what needed to be done for them to leave, checking that everything was secured properly and what they might need on their journey was close to hand. Saddles were checked, weapons were stowed, and tips were handed out to the stablehands that Toby had deemed acceptable enough to help him care for the horses during their stay. They were doing their last checks before taking their leave, when a familiar voice called out to them.

“Ser Steve!”

Steve looked away from Fury’s saddlebag, where he had been ensuring his shield sat securely, to see who had called him. He smiled as he saw Ned approaching, alone, but in good spirits.

“Ned, you’re in a good mood,” Steve said.

“I have cause to be,” Ned said.

“What’s the news?”

Steve’s companions kept themselves ‘busy’, but bent an ear to their conversation. Toby glared at a passerby who slowed a bit too much as they passed.

“I received a raven,” he said. “I would say more, but I’m still waiting on another.” He seemed to be implying something.

“That’s, good for you?” Steve asked. He wasn’t sure what the ravens implied, although he knew they were the local equivalent of Harry Potter owls.

Naerys was beaming though, off to the side. She said nothing, but Ned returned her smile.

“I had heard you were taking your leave, and I wished to speak with you before that,” Ned said. “I see I just caught you.”

“Yeah, we’re on our way,” Steve said. “Braavos calls.”

“Then I will wish you safe travels,” Ned said. “You will make it to Riverrun in time for the - for Brandon’s wedding?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Steve said. He hardly knew the Starks really, but it was the kind of new friendship that left you looking forward to seeing them again. “Any suggestions for a wedding gift?”

“Something that you think will serve the newlyweds well,” Ned said. He hesitated. “I know Ashara speaks highly of the perfumes one can buy in Braavos.”

Steve peered at Ned for a long moment. “Huh. Ashara says.”

“We are still waiting on a second raven, of course,” Ned said.

“So what would be a suitable gift for a Stark man getting married?” Steve asked.

“Traditionally a more martial gift, but a Stark would appreciate any gift given by a friend,” Ned said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve said. He glanced about, making sure none but his friends were listening in. “How’s your sister?”

Some of the joy left Ned’s face. “Well,” he said, “but she has kept to our rooms for the past day. I’m not sure if Brandon will have us attend the farewell feast tonight.”

“I hope it all goes well for you,” Steve said.

“As Brandon said, the North knows one lord, and his name is Stark,” Ned said. He shook his head. “Before you go, I wanted to thank you, for giving me that push to talk to Ashara.”

“It was more a push onto the dancefloor, but I know what you mean. It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Ned disagreed. “I think I would have regretted it, even without knowing what I missed.”

Steve shrugged one shoulder. He didn’t have the best track record with romance.

“There’s nothing worse than only seeing what you might have had in hindsight,” Steve said. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You speak with experience,” Ned said quietly.

The sounds of the stable, metal on metal and horses whinnying, hung in the air between them for a long moment.

“I’ve been around the block a few times,” Steve said at last.

“I won’t ask more of you,” Ned said, “or hold you up any longer. I look forward to seeing you in Riverrun.”

“Take care.”

They clasped hands, and Ned gave a slight bow to Naerys, then a nod to the others. He took his leave, and Steve turned to his companions.

“Are we ready to go?”

A chorus of positive replies answered him.

“Then let’s mount up.”

Robin pulled Lyanna up onto the wagon with him, taking the reins of the mules, while Keladry mounted her palfrey, Qēlos, and Toby scrambled up onto his sandsteed, Quicksilver. Dodger leaped up atop the wagon and circled in place a few times, making himself comfortable before sitting.

“Steve, some help?” Naerys asked.

She was wearing her dress, and there was no wooden step close to hand to help her mount side saddle. Steve took her gently by the waist and lifted her up, depositing her comfortably in the saddle.

“Thank you,” she said, looking away, out to the rest of the stables.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said. He mounted Fury, the warhorse tossing his head eagerly as he settled into the saddle.

“Lead on, Ser Steve,” Keladry said.

Steve touched his heels to Fury’s flanks, and they began to make their way out. Behind him, Keladry and Naerys fell in, with Toby behind them and Robin guiding the wagon bringing up the rear. Servants and knights alike cleared the way as they emerged from the stables and began to make for the southern gate of the castle.

Hundreds of stares, admiring, covetous, disgruntled, and curious, followed them as they made their way, the tent village to their right and the stables to their left. They passed the new sept, a septon watching them as they went. The man’s expression was pinched for some reason.

Before they reached the gate proper they passed the Hunter’s Hall, and he remembered the good evenings they’d spent there. He would remember it fondly, not least of all for the song Naerys had sung so sweetly.

At the gate, there was a maester with an assistant waiting under a small lean-to. The man was a familiar one, Baldrich, the man who had supervised the first melee and the axe throwing.

“Lord America,” the maester greeted as they neared.

“Maester Baldrich,” Steve said.

“You are making your departure?” the man asked, consulting a parchment before him.

“We are,” he said. “Lord Whent was busy when I asked his steward, so could you tell him I said thanks for his hospitality?”

“I will do so,” Baldrich said. He wrote something on his scroll. “Have you plans for the future?”

“Braavos,” Steve said. “From there, who knows.”

“Best of luck to you, my lord,” Baldrich said. His gaze flicked between Steve and Keladry, a subtle half smile on his face. “To your companions as well.”

They continued on, passing back through the thick walls and emerging back out into the world. Although they had passed through this same gate every time they went to the lakeside tournament grounds, something felt different about it this time. This time, they were leaving Harrenhal behind them.

“Come on,” he said over his shoulder, nudging Fury into a faster walk. “I’m ready to see more of this place.” He heard hoofbeats, and a moment later, Naerys joined him. They shared a smile.

It was good to be on the road again.