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The Song of Link Lannister

Summary:

He was once the Hero of Time, the Hero who failed Hyrule.

After Link is slain by Ganondorf in Ocarina of Time, he is born again as a Lannister of the Rock on the eve of Roberts Rebellion. How will he change the game? Winter is Coming, the dead will march, and the fate of Westeros hangs in the balance. Can Link become a Hero once more or will he doom Westeros as he did Hyrule?

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

 

Ganondorf laughed as he swung his dark blade down, crashing into Link’s shield, shattering the already damaged shield into mere kindling. The black steel of the blade bit into Link’s arm, tearing into his flesh as if it were a hot knife going through butter rather than muscles, tendon and bone. Link bit back a cry of pain as rivulets of hot blood poured from his wound like the rushing Zora river. Link hopped back, avoiding yet another slash from the Demon King’s ugly blade. The Hero of Time feinted left and slashed to Ganondorf’s side, hoping to cut through the man and end the duel but to no avail. The Gerudo caught Link’s blade, the Master Sword , with his own and struck Link in the face with his gauntleted fist.

 

Link’s nose broke with a crunch , blood gushing down his face as he stumbled. Ganondorf laughed once more. The King of thieves stabbed, aiming for Link's chest, but the hero slapped his blade away and slashed at Ganondorf’s face. The man stumbled back with a roar of pain, clutching at his now ruined eye. Link moved in for the finishing blow and swung his blade downwards. Clink. Time seemed to halt to a stop as the Dark Lord caught the blade of evil’s bane in his gauntleted hand. Ganon’s dark blade thrusted into Link’s stomach, ripping through his Kokiri tunic and chainmail.

 

Zelda screamed in horror and Ganondorf laughed as Link collapsed to his knees, blood pooling on the floor below him. “For a boy, you were skilled. But not skilled enough to kill a God.” Ganondorf boomed, his eyes glowing crimson with malice as he summoned a sphere of crackling dark magic in his open palm.

 

“Zelda…I’m sorry.” Link muttered, guilt and self pity washing through him like a tidal wave, hurting him more than any of Ganon’s sword strikes. The Hero of Time, who was foretold to bring back the light to Hyrule and save it from the Dark Lord’s tyranny, had failed.

 

“I am not a cruel God, hero. Give me the Triforce of Courage, and I shall give you a clean death, if you refuse you shall die screaming. Either way, I will have what is mine!” Ganondorf said, a cruel smirk on his face. Link was dying, he knew, there would be no winning this fight, the sword in his gut told him that much. 

 

Link summoned all the courage and strength left in him and spoke. “Never. I will never bow to the likes of you!” Ganondorf’s smirk turned into a grin as he laughed once more.

 

“Then you shall die terribly, Hero !” The ball of darkness flew from the Evil King’s palm and slammed into Link’s chest. The Hero of Time screamed and saw no more.


The red and gold banner of house Lannister rippled in the breeze coming from the Sunset Sea as Link glared at it from the peak of Casterly Rock. It was said that the Rock was taller than both the Hightower at Oldtown and the Wall in the North. “Why can't I come with you Uncle?” Link asked the man standing next to him petulantly.

 

“Because your Lord Father said so, Link, and I agree with Tywin for once. Old Valyria is a dangerous place for one so young.” His uncle Gerion said gently, as he placed his broad hand on Link’s shoulder.

 

“I can look after myself! Ser Broom says I’m a prodigy with the blade like Jaime and I’m half horse with how well I can control Epona.” Link shouted angrily. He excelled with the blade due to the experience he had in his past life. Sometimes Casterly Rock’s Master-at-arms, Ser Benedict Broom, would joke that he came into the world with a sword in his hand, but he would never say such a thing in front of his father. Lord Tywin Lannister never tolerated any talk about his beloved Joanna Lannister, whom Link had killed coming into the world. It seemed that in both lives, Link would never know his mother.

 

Gerion dropped to one knee in front of Link, and caught his chin, forcing him to look Gerion in the eyes. “I swear to be back before your one and tenth nameday, you never know, I might find some Valyrian Steel arrows for you.” Gerion said with a wink before sobering and turning serious. “You look tired, are the dreams bothering you again?” Gerion asked.

 

“The dreams always bother me Uncle.” Link said shortly. It was true, he would always dream of his past life, most of them dreams would be nightmares. The worst of them would always be of the night he died, sometimes it would differ, his memory of that night was foggy. Gerion and his older brother Tyrion always tried to comfort Link and distract him from them. Tyrion with tales of his other brother Jaime and Gerion would teach him to juggle or some mummer's trick. The last time Link had met his brother and sister, he was just a baby, it was said that King Robert didn’t like visiting the Westerlands and that was why they never visited. Other, darker rumours said that his sister didn’t wish to visit him because he killed their mother. Gerion called them a load of rubbish, but Tyrion would never say.

 

“Well do try and get more sleep, Link. Maybe even try some milk of the poppy.” Gerion smiled with sympathy, Link hated milk of the poppy. “Now come, it’s time for dinner, I hear the cooks are cooking something from the Reach tonight!” Gerion said with a grin before tickling a laugh out of Link as well. Gerion never failed to make him feel better. They descended from the peak in companionable silence. It was said that the Rock was impregnable, in its long, storied history Casterly Rock had never fallen to a besieging force. Even after thousands of years of being mined, the Rock was still rich with gold veins, this made House Lannister the wealthiest house in Westeros. One of the many things he and his father clashed on was their opinions on the Rock’s wealth and the smallfolk. Link believed that the smallfolk should be generally treated better and that their gold should be shared not hoarded. Lord Tywin on the other hand, disagreed, he viewed the smallfolk as mindless sheep to be used and controlled.

 

Once they arrived in the great hall, the sun had long since set. Like all the other rooms and halls in Casterly Rock, the great hall had been carved into the mountain itself. A great ironwood table had been set out, imported from the North due to the quality and strength of the wood, at the head of the table his father sat on a solid gold throne, its armrests moulded in the likeness of a roaring lion, his family sigil. The Lannisters were a huge family, with many side branches and cadet families, but most of the main branch were in attendance that night. To his father’s right sat his uncle Kevan. Kevan was a tall, broad but portly man with green eyes and a strong jaw. To his right his wife and three children sat, the eldest, Lancel, being of an age with him. Across from them, his aunt Genna sat. In her youth, it was said that his aunt was a beautiful woman, but with age she had gotten fat. His aunt was an intelligent woman who loved to dote on him, she was the closest person he had to a mother. Her four children sat next to her, the youngest being a few years younger than him. Her husband Emmon Frey was sat at the end next to his brother, Tyrion. A slight from father no doubt. Tyrion and his father’s relationship was complicated to say the least. Tywin viewed Tyrion as a stain on their family’s legacy and hated how much he whored and drank.

 

He was to sit to his father’s left, next to him sat his cousin Tyrek who was of an age with him. Tyrek was son to his father’s younger brother, Tygett who died of the pox. Tyrek was a quiet boy, who had never quite understood Link or why he defied his father so much. Link smiled at him as he sat and Tyrek hesitantly smiled back. Gerion and his bastard daughter Joy Hill sat next to Tyrek.

 

Dinner was always a quiet affair, with little chatter and less laughter. His father hated laughter, some said that it reminded him of how weak his own father, Tytos, had been and how he loved to laugh. A thick soup of barley and venison was served first, after that came fresh trout baked in clay. Once the main courses had finished sweetbreads and baked apples with cinnamon were brought out for them to eat. All the while, his father had not said a word to him, only talking occasionally with Kevan about some report or the other.

 

The only person to go against the unspoken rule of not being lively was Gerion, who made sweet little Joy laugh so much her thick venison soup came pouring from her nose. Link and Tyrek laughed along with them, until Tywin looked over with his cold emerald gaze, snuffing out all the joy and merriment like a flower wilting in a Northern winter. Link moodily turned back to his lemoncakes after that but couldn’t eat anymore, finding his appetite ruined by his father’s actions. It was said that his father’s joy died when his mother did. It’s fitting that my death in Hyrule killed the people’s hope and my birth in Westeros caused the death of my father’s joy.

 


As he dismissed himself and walked the long walk to his chambers, he realised that there was one positive to his terrible dreams. They reminded him of the cost of failure. I will not fail again.

 


 

Hello everyone! I am Linkpotter98, and this is my first story, the Song of Link Lannister. For new readers this is a story about what if the hero of time was born as a Lannister, and how he would react and change the events in the books. This Westeros is based on the books only. For regular readers I have rewritten this first chapter because I wasn’t pleased with it. This is my first fanfiction after all, there is always room for improvement. 

 

Thanks for reading and please review, I am always open to constructive criticism!

Chapter Text

Chapter 2:

 

That night he dreamt of an endless sea of green trees. Of a childhood friend. Of a song and an ocarina. Of happier times and the innocence of a child.

An innocence he would never feel again.

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One comfort that he would forever be content in doing was swordplay. With it he felt as if he was still just Link. A hopeful boy on a quest to defeat evil with his fairy companion at his side. Some nights he wondered if he should just steal a sword and some gold and become a hedge knight. To sleep under the stars and help people without needing to be a Lannister. But then he thought of the sadness that he would leave in his wake. Once he had heard that his Uncle Gerion was going on a quest to reclaim the Valyrian Steel Sword Brightroar , the ancestral blade of his house which had been lost for centuries in the ruins of Old Valyria, Link seized his chance and begged his father to allow him to go with his Uncle, to make him proud. 

“No.” His Father said softly.

“Father please, I’ll do everything Uncle Gerion tells me to, I’ll even-”

“NO!” His father suddenly roared, every bit the lion of their sigil, making Link flinch back.

“You may not accompany my brother on this foolish quest of his! You are a Lannister and you will give up on these foolish dreams of adventure and glory at once. You will focus on your responsibilities as a member of this family.” He spoke thunderously.

“Do I make myself clear?” He asked harshly.

“Yes father.”

His Father was a cold man indeed.

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Link hated goodbyes.

He had hated saying goodbye to Saria and the rest of the Kokiri and he hated saying goodbye to Uncle Gerion. 

The usually golden Sunset Sea seemed to have lost its lustre as Link stared at the dockhands loading his uncle Gerion's ship, the Laughing Lion, with supplies. It was a huge warship, only the best for house Lannister, even if his father thought it a fool's quest. Tywin Lannister may have called Gerion a fool for going to Valyria for Brightroar , but Link knew that his father hungered for a Valyrian Steel sword more than any man in Westeros. His family stood on the docks of Lannisport to all give their goodbyes to Gerion, even his father was here, though he only gave Gerion a curt nod. Is he incapable of feeling anything but disdain and anger?

At last, his uncle turned to him and wrapped Link in his broad arms for a hug. "Don't cry, Link. I'll be back before you know it, look after everyone here for me will you, son? But please, most especially, look after yourself." Gerion said as Link sobbed in his arms. Even as he hugged his uncle goodbye for what could be the last time in many moons, he could feel his father's disapproving gaze drill into the back of his head.

"Please uncle, take me with you! I could squire for you and polish your armour as you go to Valyria." Link pleaded with him, before his uncle separated from him. An unusual solemness seemed to weigh on his usually jubilant uncle’s shoulders as he looked upon his family. Gerion gave one last hug to Link’s baby cousin Joy, and with a wink to Link, he was gone. It tore at Link’s heart to hear his cousin Joy's cries as her father sailed away at Lannisport, and it made him even more angry at his father as Link saw his eyes look at her disapprovingly. By the Seven, she was barely more than a babe.

It wasn’t long afterwards that his father announced that he and Tyrion would be travelling with him to King’s Landing for the Crown Prince Joffrey's sixth name day. It would take them two weeks to get there and he had to pack accordingly. For the first time in a long while, excitement crawled in his stomach. Not to see the royal family, he would take Tyrion’s word for their characters, but for the Kingsgaurd. To put himself against Barristan the Bold or his brother Jaime was a dream. A dream he was sure that his brother Jaime at the very least would indulge in. His father couldn’t prevent him from swordplay, it was a key part of a Lord’s education after all. A part of him wondered whether his sister Cersei would be like Zelda, but as soon as he thought of it he banished it from his mind.

Zelda was Hyrule’s bright blue sky and endless green pastures, she was the sweet ringing laughter of children and the looming peaks of Death Mountain. She was beauty and grace personified, wise and lovelier than the sun bleeding against the sunset sea. Zelda was dead and gone, left to rot with the ashes of his beautiful homeland.

Zelda had been the brightest jewel of Hyrule, the very soul of his quest whose memory had warmed him on the very darkest of days and there would be no replacing her. 

There was no use dwelling on impossibilities.

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The morning was cool as they left the Rock in Uncle Kevan’s capable hands. As cool as any summer in the West could get, that is, which still made him shift in his saddle and fidget under his crimson travelling cloak. The trip would take them roughly two weeks due to the large retinue they were taking with them, and as they travelled through the rough hills and the rolling plains surrounding the Goldroad he was reminded of the endless lush green plains of Hyrule Fields and the mountainous area surrounding Death Mountain. It made him feel bitter about the lush fields being turned black under Ganondorf’s regime. 

Tyrion broke him out of his unpleasant reverie, trying to speak to him about something or the other.

“-Deep Den tomorrow. Are you even listening brother?” Tyrion said, faintly amused.

“Sorry, you were saying, brother?” Link asked, his ears flushing red.

“I said that we would arrive at Deep Den tomorrow, where we will stay for the night before moving on. We will then continue on to King’s Landing where we will meet our oh so lovely family!” Tyrion said in a mocking tone.

“Enough Tyrion” Their father said with a tone of finality from atop his majestic destrier, its coat of auburn shining like burnished copper in the morning sun. Tyrion scowled hatefully, his ugly face twisting into something monstrous.

As Tyrion started to tell a story about a brothel, their Lord father nudged his horse forwards, to ride ahead of them, incensed at Tyrion’s antics. Good riddance, Link thought scornfully. He then proceeded to ask Tyrion questions on House Lydden and its current head and Lord of Deep Den.

______________________________

Link did not like Lord Lewys Lydden.

He was the fattest man Link had ever seen, including the King of Zora, who had been so fat that he was seemingly rotting in his ornate throne-like chair. The sweet smell of decay hung around him like a cloak and he shamed his house with his actions. This did not make Link dislike the man, no, what he truly disliked about the man was his treatment of his wife, or lack thereof. 

He publicly scorned and shamed her with his disgraceful parading of paramours and whores around him and Deep Den castle, giving them gifts and jewels rightfully meant for her, given that she was the Lady of the keep.

If that was not enough, he made cruel, mocking japes about her and her personality, enjoying the tears that pooled in her eyes that refused to spill over, enjoying the pain that he made her suffer through. It made him want to duel Lord Lydden himself for her honour. 

But he knew his father would scorn that, and as much as he would like to defy his father, he knew, in this world of politics and drudgery that he had only vaguely heard Zelda reference in his past life and which maester Creyelen lectured him daily, was full of consequences for the brash and righteous actions that he longed for. He knew, even if he didn’t want to accept it, that Lady Lydden was helpless in her misery. 

No Link thought, No I will not allow her to suffer this way. Was I not the Hero of Time, charged with protecting the weak and helping the helpless? If he didn’t do anything he would be no better than his cold father, who cared for nothing but the name Lannister.

No he would help Lady Lydden, no matter what came in his way.

Hi everyone, I’ve edited this chapter but I’m still not quite pleased with it. I don’t particularly like how I’ve depicted everyone’s characters that much and it’s too much telling rather than showing but I digress. If I have time, I will properly rewrite this chapter from the ground up at a later date, this will have to do, for now.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3:

One thing Link remembered from this endeavour was that he hated planning.

He had always preferred to go into things headfirst, damning the consequences, both on his quest to save Hyrule with Navi, and as a young child with Saria by his side. 

At first he wanted to get a used privy bowl and pour the contents over Lord Lydden’s head, whilst he was in the courtyard talking to his father, but by the time he had located a privy, which stunk, the Lord Lewys had taken his leave to go to his room with one of his many mistresses.

With that plan in tatters he had to think of an entirely new one, and with the time constraint he had, they were leaving in the morning after all, it didn’t leave him exactly hopeful. 

It took him hours to come up with his new master plan, the sun had gone down hours before, the idea was so evil he laughed out loud. His answer was one of his worst enemies back in Hyrule. One of the evilest monsters to roam Hyrule, and surely created by Ganondorf himself for the sole purpose of thwarting him at every turn.

Cuccos

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On paper the operation was rather simple, nothing he hadn’t done before. Under the cover of the early morning darkness, he would steal a cucco, or chicken as people called them in this life, from one of the coops in the courtyard attached to the kitchens, and then sneak into Lord Lydden’s rooms and place it on his bed. So instead of waking up with a beautiful woman sleeping on his chest, it would be a cucco clucking in his ear. The timing had to be perfect so he could be in the main courtyard of the castle and ready to go on time without arousing any suspicion from Lord Lydden, or worse, his father.

The plan went off without a hitch, until it didn’t.

He encountered his first, and arguably biggest problem as he hopped through the kitchen window into the courtyard with the cucco coops. How was he going to get the cucco out of the coop silently without alerting all of the other cuccos of his presence, which would cause enough of a commotion that would get him caught? He didn’t know.

So he decided to do it anyway.

The eight coops were all fairly big structures fashioned from wood and coated in a deep red paint, fit to house around twenty cuccos each. The coops were situated in random positions along the courtyard; he opened the gate of the closest cucco coop to the kitchen window silently and squeezed through the entrance of the coop. As soon as his foot touched the old floorboards of the coop it let out an ominous creeeeek .

He froze, preparing to run out at any moment, but thankfully, the wretched creature remained in its deep slumber. He slowly reached out and wrapped his arms around the closest cucco on his right, gripping it gently, but firmly, the way one might hold a babe, which he had only done once in his life. And as he slowly snuck out of the coop, made his way back through the kitchen window, which was a challenge by itself, and got safely back into the kitchen, he let out a sigh of relief.

Which was a big mistake.

Somehow, him letting out a sigh of relief awakened the stupid bird, from its slumber. And as it peered its deep void like eyes at him, Link, for the first time in his new life, felt true fear.  

The cucco parted its long red beak, as if to let out a big cluck, which would have no doubt alerted the guards to his location, and promptly fell back asleep.

Thank Farore he chose a stupid cucoo.

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From then on it was simple, Lord Lydden’s guards were as, if not more, incompetent than Zelda’s were, making it easy for him to stealthily enter the Lord Lydden’s chambers once they changed rotation. Now came the hard part, to leave the infernal beast with Lydden without being caught in the process.

The room he entered was certainly gaudy, filled with elaborate tapestries depicting ancient battles and rare jewels, but truly nothing compared to the ostentatious and opulent halls of Casterly Rock.

As Link gently pushed the door to the bedchamber open and entered the room, the woman who was supposed to be asleep had a crossbow levelled at him.

“Who are you?” The woman asked with a harsh whisper, even as the crossbow in her hands trembled. Link swallowed and shifted the chicken in his arms. The one time he acted his physical age, his life was threatened.

She was a woman of Valyrian descent with deep indigo eyes and shining silver hair, he noted, and Link had to turn his eyes away from the woman in embarrassment, due to her state of dress, or lack thereof. Lydden broke the tense silence with a snore that would wake the dead. Pity welled in Link’s stomach for the girl, even as she threatened his life. The girl was no woman grown as he had first thought, she looked to be only a few years older than he. For such a disgusting man to sleep with a girl who looked to be only just a few years flowered was wrong.

“And why do you have a chicken?” She asked, more than a little incredulous.

“My name is Link, my lady, and I’m here to-”

“Kill Lord Lewys with a chicken.” She said, bemused.

“No- I’m not here to kill anyone, just to humiliate Lord Lydden.” Link sputtered, his face flushing beet red with embarrassment. Link breathed in and out, calming himself before looking the woman straight in the eyes, before saying passionately, “to humiliate him for the shame and humiliation he puts upon his Lady wife every day, a taste at what she is forced to suffer with no respite with no way to fight back.”

She then lowered the crossbow completely and said, whilst stretching like a cat, “Explain to me why I shouldn’t scream and wake the fat Lord up right now”

Link sighed, he should have known that this was a stupid idea. Gerion had always told him that he should jape more, why do I ever listen to you Uncle?

“You say sweet words, but milord Lydden pays me with sweeter gold.” She said, voice dripping with false sweetness.

Link steeled himself and grimaced, it always came down to coin in the end. “Lord Lydden’s gold may be sweet my lady, but I am the heir to all the riches of Casterly Rock, and a Lannister always pays his debts.”

Her indigo eyes widened as the crossbow fell from her limp hand and her already pale skin paled further. “Of course milord Lannister, I apologise for my behaviour.” She said, obviously petrified now, whilst doing a shaky curtsy.

“Just call me Link, none of them fancy titles, and don't be sorry, I'm the one who broke into these rooms with a chicken.” Link said, shame clogging his throat for terrifying her with just his name alone.

“I’ll help you, I swear, please I beg you, I’ll do anything-”

“I shall not harm you, my lady, I swear. All you need to do is take the gold, leave these chambers and tell Lord Lydden that you left after he fell asleep last night.” Link said, interrupting her, whilst handing her the bag of dragons that he had taken from his allowance for the trip to King’s Landing. He could see the sun slowly creeping its way up the horizon, it wouldn’t be long before he would be expected to meet with his father and brother, he didn’t have much time left.

“Many thanks, milord.” The girl said, and with one more shaky curtsy, she fled the room.

After she left, Link crept towards the bed where the Lord slept, and carefully bent over Lydden to gently place the infernal creature on Lord Lewyn's huge chest only for the pungent stench of him to hit his nose and make him almost drop the bloody bird. He then quickly crept from both chambers, and when he got to the common halls where he saw servants milling about, he threw caution to the wind and ran all the way back to his rooms and jumped on his bed just in time for the maid to come in and ‘wake him’ from his slumber.

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As Link sat next to Tyrion with a cocky grin in the great hall of Deep Den, everyone in the hall from his father to the ‘lowliest’ of servants heard a choked scream with the distinct voice of the Lord Lydden.

Seeing his opportunity as everyone around him rushed about in a hurry, to see what happened to their Lord, a laugh burst from his throat, and so with his quest completed, turned his head towards Lady Lydden, who was coincidently looking right at him, and winked.

Unaware of the furious eyes of his father drilling holes into the back of his head.

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It's a wrap! I want to just quickly say I'm extremely surprised at the reception that my story has been given, so THANKYOU!

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

 

That night he dreamt of a burned castle town. Of a redead’s scream and of the horrors at the bottom of the well. In a cavern with skulls lining the walls and bones piling on the floor.

Of a Dead Hand creeping closer and closer, its arms grasping him tight with long and bloody fingernails. The Dead Hand’s eyeless sockets peered right into his soul and its mouth opened impossibly wide, trying to take a bite.

It ended like all the others of its kind did.

With his death.


He wanted to go back to the Rock already.

King’s Landing was spread across Blackwater Bay like an infection covering the shore as far as he could see with merchant stalls and granaries, almshouses and orphanages, taverns and brothels all packed on top of each other on its narrow and unorganised streets, corrupting the Blackwater with its rot. Visenya's hill was crowned by the Great Sept of Baelor with its seven crystal towers. Across the city on the hill of Rhaenys stood the blackened walls of the Dragonpit, its huge dome collapsing into ruin, its bronze doors closed now for a century. The Street of the Sisters ran between them, straight as an arrow. The city walls loomed above them, high and foreboding, nigh on twice the size of Lannisport’s deep red walls.

On Aegon’s High Hill, the Red Keep sat. One of Maester Creylen’s many lectures came back to him as he marvelled upon the seven colossal drum towers topped with iron ramparts, the vaulted halls and massive curtain walls. “ Maegor’s reign was wicked, but his life was one of luxury.” The maester’s words rang true as Link looked upon the pale red stone fortress, the seat of King’s.

For all the Red Keep’s majesty, the city itself was a travesty; the scent of shit and squalor assaulted his nose long before the city came into view and the sight of half starved, resentful smallfolk shamed Link for wearing the golden lion of Lannister. No doubt they remembered the brutality of the Sack at the end of the Rebellion when Link was just barely more than a babe. 

But the biggest disappointment that King’s Landing had to offer was the Royal Family, his family. He didn’t even know how it went that wrong.


The Red Keep was certainly an imposing place. Whilst not nearly as big as Casterly Rock, it still represented power. It was the very heart of the Seven Kingdoms and the King’s power.

They were welcomed into the Red Keep by several servants with the ancient guest right of bread and salt and a man who donned armour of gilded gold and a stainless white cape, with cutting jade eyes and hair of liquid sunlight. This must be his brother Jamie, the infamous Kingslayer, what other Lannister had the white cloak of a Kingsguard after all.

“Father.” Jamie said, nodding his head.

Never one to beat around the bush, their father asked, “Where is your sister?”

“The Queen holds court, father.” Tywin’s eyes brimmed with a cool fury as he stalked off with only a nod to Jamie and sympathy welled within Link for his sister. Tywin Lannister was not a man who appreciated taking orders; especially from his own children.

As his father walked off, Jaime turned towards Tyrion, and started to greet him, his earlier arrogant demeanour gone. Anxiety clawed in Link’s stomach as Jaime turned towards him to appraise him. Will he hold Mother’s death against me? Tyrion had told him tales of Jamie since he was but a babe, how he had fought alongside the Sword of The Morning and Ser Barristan the Bold against the Kingswood Brotherhood. Will he be everything Tyrion says, or is he like Father; cold and callous?

Suddenly, Jaime broke out into a wide grin “Last time I saw you, little brother, you were but a babe in my arms, look how you’ve grown.”

“It’s an honour to meet you at last, Jamie. Uncle Gerion often says that I look akin to you at my age, whilst Ser Benedict Broom says I wield the sword as you did.” Link said and Jamie’s cutting smirk widened. The old master-at-arms was a gruelling task master, but fair. Ser Broom had been a friend of Gerion’s and Link could recall many a night where both men had regaled Link and his younger cousin Tyrek with tales of Jaime’s prowess as a boy before he had squired for Lord Crakehall.

Gerion hadn’t been wrong, they were the spitting image of each other, the only notable differences were that where Jaime’s golden hair was curled, Link's fell flat and straight on his head and  where Jaime’s cat-like eyes were dark like the emerald in his Aunt Genna’s jewellery, Link had their Father’s eyes, bright green and flecked with gold.

“We will have to test Old Broom’s words in the training yards later, Link. How is my favourite Uncle?” Jaime asked with a cocky smile.

Tyrion shook his malformed head with amusement, “gone in his quest to reclaim Brightroar from Valyria.”

Jaime raised one golden slender brow but otherwise let the matter drop. Tywin Lannister had called his brother’s journey a ‘fool’s quest’, and Link had no doubt that Jamie was inclined to believe their father.

“Come Brothers, we don’t want father biting our heads off for dallying.” Jaime said.


The Great Hall was huge, bigger than any of the golden halls in Casterly Rock. Tapestries of great hunts and banners of the crowned stag of the royal House of Baratheon hung from the walls. Even with nigh on a hundred Lords and Ladies in attendance, the cavernous hall seemed near empty. A long plush carpet stretched from the doors of oak banded with bronze to the most converted seat in all of Westeros.

The Iron Throne.

The greatest symbol of power in all of Westeros. It was an asymmetric monstrosity made up of twisted metal, jagged edges and spikes. Steep metal steps led up to the throne forged from the blades of Aegon’s enemies. It was a huge and ugly thing, and sat upon it was the Demon of the Trident himself.  

He was near as imposing as the throne itself, with his bright stormy blue eyes and body of corded muscle. The King’s crown of obsidian and gold seemed to rest uneasily on his head of wild dark hair. Robert Baratheon’s cheeks were flushed a ruddy red as he took a long drought from his jewelled goblet whilst he listened to the proceedings of the court with an air of frustration and disinterest. Is the King… drunk?

The woman who he assumed was his Queenly sister was surrounded by the women of the court with a goblet of wine in hand, talking to their father. She was as beautiful as the bards said, but her beauty was marred for a moment when an ugly scowl flashed across her face. 

As propriety dictated the three of them, Link, Tyrion and their father, Jamie having gone to the side to guard the entrance when they arrived in the Great Hall, kneeled before the King only rising when he motioned them to do so. The King then dismissed them, muttering about “fucking Lannisters”

Their father walked off to speak with someone or the other, planning something that would make children become orphans no doubt, and so Tyrion led them to their sister Cersei.

“Ahhh sweet sister, it’s been too long no? May I introduce you to our youngest brother Link, the pride of Casterly Rock and a prodigy with the blade, if Jaime isn’t careful, another Lannister will replace him on the Kingsguard.” Tyrion said, as if making some grand big jape that only he and Cersei understood.

Cersei moved her eyes, which at this point were looking at Tyrion with disdain, over to him. If Jaime's appraising had made him nervous, this made him feel like an ant under a giant of old’s boot. 

“Your grace, it is an honour to meet you. I fear I was too young to recall our last meeting” Link said with a bow, for once thankful of his septa and her constant droning of courtesies. Cersei looked at him with such derision, he thought she might order the guards to take him away to the Black cells, but suddenly, the scorn was gone, replaced by a false happiness.

“Hello dear brother, It is a pleasure to meet you, I have thought of you often and I’m sure you are doing our family proud.” Cersei said with a smile, a false-hearted smile, whilst holding out her hand, waiting for it to be kissed, like she had done with Tyrion just a second ago. He complied, and as he pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles, she grimaced slightly.

He was sure that if they were in private, Cersei would be nowhere near this pleasant towards him, for the same reason that his father was so cold towards him he was sure, the death of Joanna Lannister.

“Your Grace, if you will excuse me, I am eager to rid myself of the dust from the road.” Link said with a bow to a disinterested Cersei, he had no doubt slighted her without him even knowing it. Din damn them, he hadn’t even been in King’s Landing an hour and already he loathed the false pleasantries of courtly politics and being forced to endure it made him itch for a fight. He knew his father would no doubt be displeased if he headed to the training yard straight away for one reason or another, so he decided to do what calmed him in the Rock, take a walk in the godswood. His mother was said to have loved the godswood in the Rock, or so Gerion said, and they reminded him of the Lost Woods, of a home long since torn from his grasp.


As he walked in the general direction he had found the godswood to be in he heard the laughter of children, when he investigated further he found it to be a group of eight highborn boys in a circle, covering his view of what was in the middle of the circle. Each boy looked to  be about six name days old, and on further inspection only two boys were laughing, the others were a chalky white colour.

Unexpectedly, one of the boys broke away from the circle and ran into the bushes, making the recognisable sound of retching. He was about to follow to see if he was alright, but he now had a perfect view of the middle of the circle, and what he saw caused the acidic taste of bile to rise in his throat.

It was a pup, most likely only a few days old, being tortured, its tiny legs were broken and twisted in different directions, with needles impaling it. White hot fury coursed through him at the sight of it and he quickly pushed through the other boys and grabbed the boy who was torturing the poor pup.

“What are you doing!” Link shouted, incensed. “You're torturing the poor creature! Don’t you see how much you're hurting it, you wretched fool?” The ringleader’s eye’s had widened in disbelief and his pale. Thin cheeks had flushed bright red with fury. With his golden curls in disarray, the cruel child looked similar to how cousin Lancel had reacted when Tyrek had thrown flour over him. 

“I am your future King, unhand me at once!” the petulant child commanded. “Ser Barristan!” the boy shouted.

A man with greying blonde hair outfitted in the enamel plate and pristine cape of the Kingsguard came running through the trees of the godswood, sword drawn. When he saw the scene before him, he faltered. Then he spoke in a commanding, but not unkind voice, “put the prince down, boy."

Link dropped the child with a terrible feeling of foreboding blooming low in his stomach, like he had just committed a grave mistake. It would just be my luck to assault a prince.

“I want his hand Ser! It is the law!” Prince Joffrey called out in his reedy, childish voice.

Link glared at the stupid child and resisted the urge to punch the blighted prince, Link doubted that his father would be pleased. To use his family name against Lord Lydden’s mistress had made him uneasy, but against Joffrey it nearly felt right.

“I apologise, your grace, that was… unseemly of me, but to maim me would be to harm your kin. I am Lord Link, son of Tywin Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock, and your uncle, my prince.”

Joffrey’s cruel smirk turned to a petulant pout. “Mother will hear of this!” He called before scurrying off, Ser Barristan and the rest of the noble boys in tow.

As Link set to burying the poor pup who had died from the Crown Prince and the other boys’ abuse, he knew that he was screwed.


I edited this chapter, because by God was it bad before. I’m still not too happy with it, but I’d need to completely rewrite it and I simply don’t have the time.

Read and Review!

Chapter Text

Chapter 5:

 

His father’s solar was dark when he walked in, illuminated by the silver moonlight and a few sparsely lit candles, which were dotted around the room.

All of his siblings as well as his father were present in the solar. Tyrion was sitting in a chair by the great fireplace at the side of the room, whilst Jaime was standing by the door as he entered, appearing as if he wanted to flee this family meeting as much as he did. Cersei was standing to the right of their father with a crystal goblet of arbour gold in her bejewelled hand as she smirked at him with a glint of triumph in her emerald eyes. 

His father was waiting for him, which in of itself worried him, Tywin Lannister waited for no one. He sat in an old, oaken chair, engraved with a pride of lions roaring. Link could have snorted if the mood that hovered in the solar weren’t so grim. Tywin was dressed in the red and gold of house Lannister, and Link only had to look in his cold jade eyes, the same shade as Link’s own, to know that he was furious.

As soon as the door behind him closed Cersei pounced.

“How dare you!” she breathed. “Joffrey is the future King, your nephew! You should be bowling to him, not shaming him.” Where Tywin was as frigid as the Wall, disdainful and derisive in his anger, sweet Cersei was explosive like the Doom Gerion had been so interested in.

Link blinked, indignant anger curling around his heart. “Joffrey deserved to be shamed, Prince or not. Future King he may be, his cruelty was wrong.”

“Joff was merely playing as boys do and you humiliated him!” Cersei shouted.

“He was torturing a pup, sister-”

“Enough!” His father said sharply, cutting through their argument and plunging the room into a tense silence.

“Joffrey is your kin, boy, and we do not turn against family. Your insolence is at an end, too long have I let your childish japes go unpunished. You will not shame House Lannister, not like my fool brother.” Link felt an angry flush rise in his cheeks at the slight against Gerion. Tyrion and Jaime sought to interject but Tywin silenced them with a look.

A satisfied smile split across Cersei’s ruby lips and Link felt dread swirl in his stomach. “You will appear tomorrow morn before the court to say a public apology to Joffrey.”

“No, House Lannister will not be shamed.” Cersei’s smile curdled and Link could have laughed, “apologise to Joffrey in private. You humiliated Lord Lydden, one of our principal bannermen, in Deep Den. For that I forbid you from the archery contest. Disappoint me again, Link, and you will find me much less forgiving.”

Link fought off a groan, he knew that he would come to regret that damned plan, how did his father know it had been him? Link glared as he watched the flames dance in the hearth, not only would he miss out on the archery contest, he had to apologise to Joffrey as well. In private or not, he was sure that it would kill him.

It was so unfair.


As Link walked to the training grounds to exert his anger from the mortifying morning he had just experienced, he pondered over his dilemma. He could either follow his father’s orders, or he could blatantly disobey him and enter the archery lists. 

To disobey his Lord Father would surely incur his displeasure, but then whatever action Link took always seemed to make Tywin wroth. He cared not for glory or acclaim, but the winner’s purse was an exorbitant amount of gold, far more than even his allowance. One gold dragon was more than most smallfolk made in a year, never mind forty thousand. 

I can do both! Link thought. He could enter the archery lists as a member of the smallfolk with his father being none the wiser. He would have to make an excuse as to why he wouldn’t watch the archery contest, but he could do that later.

Just as he finished his train of thought he came upon the training grounds. The grounds were teaming with knights and squires alike, a gleaming sea of silver and iron, each one glinting with challenge and a hunger for glory.

As he picked up a tourney sword and shield from the rack, he spotted his niece, Myrcella. Out of the two royal children, only Myrcella had the King’s colouring, with her inky hair and stormy blue eyes, whilst Joffrey, with his golden curls, jade eyes and cruelty very much took after his Queenly mother.

He shook his head and focused on the grounds before him, taking notice of a tall squire who had just fiercely disarmed another boy. Link grinned, his grip on the tourney sword tightening with anticipation. The squire looked to be a couple of years his elder and wore the sigil of a triple spiral, consisting of red, green, and blue on white, over his surcoat. A Massey then, Link noted.

The Massey squire had taken notice of him by the time Link reached him and grunted. “You’re to be next then are you?” Massey had a surprisingly soft voice that belied his great hulking size. Link only nodded in reply.

The other squire, a Frey who Massey had just beat, scurried out of the way to make space for their bout. Everything around him dulled, the hot scent of sweat and fish and shit were washed away and the riot of colour and steel that surrounded him melted from Link’s vision like morning dew in the summer sun. Time eroded away until only Massey remained, his breath escaping his thin lips in great heaving pants and his lank blonde hair falling in his earth brown eyes. Link raised his sword and shield, and for the first time since he had arrived in King’s Landing, felt at peace.  

Massey launched himself at Link with a roar, his dull and ugly greatsword snapping out like a butcher’s cleaver. Link evaded the attack with an easy side step and felt a smile spread across his face. This was what he was meant for, not trading barbs with a boy prince or his mother. The squire whirled around to face him, lashing out with his greatsword as if it were a club.

Disappointment threatened to shatter the calm peace instilled within him by battle as Link evaded another of Massey's blows. The boy was strong and fast for his size, but in the end he was simply that; a boy. No dreams of darkness and failures haunted him. Link had no doubt that Massey would grow to be an able swordsman and could have defeated any other boy put against him, but not Link. In another life he had felled dragons and shades with just the strength of his sword arm, and it was that strength that drove him now. Massey never stood a chance.

Massey swung at Link once more, and Link met the squire’s blade with his own. The blunted steel clashed and Massey flinched. Link parried and feinted, eroding the boy’s defence as surely as the sunset sea did the cliffs of Lannisport. Link struck out at the boy’s leg, then at his sword arm and his chest. Each time the words of the Rock’s master-at-arms, Ser Benedict Broom, rang in his ears, “dead, dead and dead!”

Massey tried one final, desperate lunge with his blade and Link disarmed him with a wave of his sword. Link brought the blunted sword to the squire’s throat as Massey fell into the dirt.

“I yield” the Massey squire muttered, his face ruddy red with exertion and shame. All at once the peace was shattered, and time continued around him. 

Link laughed as he helped the squire up. ”Well met, Massey. I am Link, of House Lannister. That was a fine bout, should we go again?”

The Massey squire nodded, taking up his sword, a smile blooming on his face. Link returned to his fighting stance, grinning all the while, happy that mayhaps he had made a friend.


Hello everyone, this chapter has been edited on the 28/04/2024

This was undoubtedly the worst written of my earliest chapters and was such a slog to get rewritten, but I'm so happy it's done.

Read and review!

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

 

That night he dreamt of Ganondorf again. Of his dark beams of energy, of how when they hit, he fell like a puppet who had its strings cut. Writhing and screaming on the floor, he felt his bones break, his blood boiling and freezing all at once. He felt his soul being torn apart at the seams, each tear and split more painful and harrowing than the last. 

 

Gannondorf smiled, triumph shining in his eyes as he said “Bow down to me boy! Proclaim me as your King and God, give me the Triforce of Courage and you shall live.”

 

Link only laughed in response, a weak and pitiful laugh that ended in a violent coughing fit, but a laugh of determination all the same. Ganondorf was not impressed. “Fine hero, have it your way!” The Demon King boomed with a mocking laugh. Ganondorf’s eyes gleamed as he flew towards Link, his great ugly black blade poised to strike.

 

Link awoke with a gasp, the dream had not been a pleasant one. He shook away the unpleasant memories and let a grin form on his face. Today was the day , he thought. The day of the tourney. 

 

For the past few days, he had been training in preparation for the tourney, with his new friend Triston Massey, Triston was always laughing and always up for a fight, he reminded Link of his uncle Gerion and how much he missed him. He’ll be back, Link thought, he swore it that he would. 

 

Triston had been worried for Link when he had told him of his plan to disobey his father, he cautioned Link to be patient to which Link replied with a grin and said “I’ll be fine Triston, I swear, my father will never know.”

 

Triston shook his head, his pale hair shining in the sun, and squinted his laughing blue eyes at Link. “Why not enter the squire’s melee as well, if you're going to enter anyway?” Triston shouted more than asked, the other squires looking over at them with suspicion.

 

Link winced and said, “Keep your voice down, someone might hear. For why the archery contest and not the melee, well it's more likely that my father would be at the melee than the archery contest and I would be spotted in the chaos of the melee.”

 

Triston only shrugged in response.

 

—---------------------

 

Link had decided that to avoid being caught out for not being able to be in two places at once, he would say he was sick and stay in bed. With his father being none the wiser he would change into the most plain and threadbare clothes he owned, with a hood to cover his face. His plan was perfect!

 

He had called for a servant to tell his father that he was sick and that he may not be able to attend the tourney today, all I have to do now is wait! Link thought with a grin, and so he waited, and waited. It had been almost an hour before Grand Maester Pycelle finally arrived.

The old man was slouched and breathing quite heavily, revealing his bald, spotted head. Pycelle had a long snow white beard that went down to his stomach, and when he opened his small mouth to take a big gulp of air, he saw that it hid the Grand Maester’s missing teeth and warts. 

 

His maester’s chain rattled as he walked forward, and what a chain it was. Encompassing rare metals like platinum, silver and steel fitted with an assortment of jewels like amethyst, rubies and emeralds as decoration. Pycelle stood up straight and smoothed down his red velvet gown with gold accents. Lannister colours! Link realised with a jolt. It seems that Pycelle is my father’s man, Link thought.

 

Pycelle finally looked up at him with his pale, watery eyes “Hello my young Lord,” he wheezed “terribly sorry for taking so long, Maegor’s holdfast can be confusing at times, even to me.” Link looked at him in confusion but nodded along anyway, hasn’t he been stationed here since before I was born he thought. “It is to my understanding that you are feeling ill today, tell me my Lord, what is wrong?” He asked.

 

“It’s my stomach, Grand Maester, it’s terribly sore.” Link said weakly. Pycelle nodded in sympathy and stroked his beard whilst letting out a ponderous “hmmm”.

 

“Well it seems, my Lord, that you won’t be able to attend the tourney today I’m afraid.” Success! Link thought with triumph, and made a disappointed face for Pycelle. The Grand Maester saw this and quickly said “Do not worry my Lord it is only a stomach bug that will be gone quickly enough in the coming days, there will be other tourneys. I will tell my acolyte Walder to keep you company today so that you do not feel all alone in this room.” Pycelle nodded, pleased with himself and quickly said his farewells and left.

 

Link felt his face drop and let out a loud groan of frustration. Don’t panic. He thought to himself. We'll figure something out.

 

The door opened and Link quickly made a sick face. The man who walked through was undoubtedly Pycelle’s acolyte, equipped with the traditional long grey maester robes. Walder was a thin pimply man with a weasel like face, and as Link thought about it the acolyte reminded Link of his Aunt Genna’s husband. A Frey! Link thought. Acolyte Walder looked around his room with greed and envy. That’s good, Link thought as he looked over to the monthly allowance his father gives him, I can work with this.

 

As Walder sat in the chair next to his bed Link said, “Look Walder, I’ll give you this bag of gold dragons, my monthly allowance, if you tell Pycelle that I stayed in bed all day resting, okay?” Greed flashed in the Frey’s dark eyes and he nodded repeatedly. “Do we have a deal?” Link asked, suddenly very nervous.

 

“You have yourself a deal, Lannister.” Walder said with a huge grin on his face, showing his crooked teeth.

 

As soon as Link handed Walder the money, the Acolyte fled the room in glee and with a dangerous glint in his eye. When the oak door bange closed, Link jumped out of his bed in a flurry of motion. I’m going to be late! Link thought. He quickly got dressed and fled his room, sprinting through Maegor’s Holdfast, passing nobles and servants both without sparing them a glance, and then exiting the Red Keep itself. 

 

He ran down to the tourney grounds with his bow in hand and cloak secured in place writhing through giant crowds of people until finally he got to the grounds. He paid the fee for admission into the tourney and registered himself under the name of Mido.

 

The archery tourney itself was pretty simple, he got three shots and the competitor with the worst gets eliminated and the more rounds there were the further the target was away from the competitors.

 

As he walked into the arena he noticed ten archery targets had been set up. Nine other competitors then, he thought. He noticed his other competitors were all nobles or knights with shining armour. I’ll beat them .

 

The horn was sounded for him and his fellow competitors to begin. As Link drew his bow back all noise around him drowned out until all that mattered was him and the target. The arrow released with a sharp twang and embedded itself into the target with a dull thud. Bullseye! Link thought with a relish. He looked over and noticed all but one of his competitors hit the target. 

 

This process continued until there was only Link and two other competitors, the target was the furthest it could be away from them, this would be the last round. Link drew his arrow back and focused on his breathing. I can do this, he thought I will prove my father wrong. His arrow released and hit the bullseye once again. 

 

The crowd cheered and Link grinned, he had won! King Robert called him up to the podium where he and the rest of the Royal Family were sitting. He ran more than walked there and kneeled before the King.

 

“Reveal who you are, and claim your prize!” King Robert boomed with a laugh, waving the winner's purse at him. Link stood up as he was bid and tentatively took his hood down, aware of how the entire crowd’s eyes were on him and him alone.

 

Cersei gasped in horror when she realised it, but Robert only drunkenly laughed. He threw the purse at him and laughed once more at the dismay that was on his family’s faces. He felt his father’s eyes drilling a whole into the side of his head but ignored him for now.

 

Link looked out to the cheering crowd and saw the smallfolk there, saw how thin and hungry they were, even if their faces were lit up in delight, and he knew what he had to do. He bowed once more to the King and jogged down to the smallfolk. He handed the bag of gold dragons to a Lannister guard telling him and some others to hand them out to the smallfolk.

 

They chanted his name in thanks, they chanted the name Lannister in thanks even more. Link frowned, he didn’t want fame or recognition for any good deeds he did, all he wanted was redemption for his failures.


As he turned around to face his father at last, what he found shocked him. Tywin nodded at him in approval and just for a moment he smiled at him. It was a small thing, only the slight upturn of his lips and gone so quickly that he thought he imagined it. His father was pleased with him.

 

I'm sooooo sorry on how long it took to get this chapter out but I have some incredibly important exams on right now. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and review, seriously it helps me grow as a writer and I do take your criticisms into consideration and try to grow from them. But yeah Bye!

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

 

Link was quickly led away from the King's podium by Lannister guards after the cheering of the small folk had died down. They escorted him through the winding, stinking streets of King’s Landing and up Aegon's hill to the Red Keep.

 

As the gates to the Keep opened, Link saw how much quieter the castle was without the King and most of his court, it was almost peaceful. The Lannister guards continued to escort him throughout the castle and into Maegor’s holdfast. When they finally arrived at his room, the captain of the guard turned to him and spoke.

 

"Lord Tywin has commanded you to wash and dress before the melee and joust M’lord. He has then commanded me to escort you back down to the tourney grounds in time for the melee."

 

Link thanked the tall man with a nod as he entered his room. As he closed the heavy oak door behind him, Link saw a bronze Bath set out before him, filled with steaming hot water, just how he liked it. He quickly changed out of his sweaty clothes and set out a crimson silk tunic, embroidered with the golden lion of house Lannister, with a black cloak, breeches and boots for him to wear after his wash.

 

As he sank into the bath, Link let out a sigh of contentment, the tired muscles in his back finally releasing the tension that had built up in them throughout the archery contest. As he washed, his mind wandered to his father and what his reaction would be to his defiance. He didn't look that angry. Cersei on the other hand… Link's thoughts trailed off as he sank deeper into the comfort that the bath presented. He stayed in the bath long after the water had gone cold, pondering on memories and friends long lost, he wondered about his Uncle Gerion and what he was doing, what adventures he might find in Old Valyria. He’ll be in Old Valyria by now, surely fighting dragons and long dead Valyrian sorcerers. Link thought with a laugh.

 

A knock on the door interrupted his amusing thoughts on his favourite uncle, and with a jolt Link realised that once again, he was late. He hurriedly got out of the bronze bath and dried  himself with a towel whilst throwing on his clothes.

 

He opened the Oak door to the Captain's scowling face, his golden eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, his thin lips stretched into a frown.

 

"We are late to the melee M’lord" the man said with his gravelly voice. Link flushed and scratched the back of his head, abashed.

 

"Sorry Ser, I lost track of the time." Link said with an apologetic smile.

 

"No need for the apologies milord, and I am no Ser, just Lann from Lannisport." Lann said with a reassuring smile, “We best be on our way if we want to catch the rest of the melee M’lord.”

 

“No need to be proper Lann, just call me Link, my father’s the Lord” Link said with a cheeky grin and a laugh as they went through the confusing, but beautiful and luxurious maze that was Maegor’s holdfast. As they left Maegor’s through the drawbridge and out the Red Keep into the stinking streets of King’s Landing, Lann told Link About himself.

 

“As I said before, I was born in Lannisport, the best place in Westeros. Me mother was the daughter of a candlemaker, so when I was younger I was always helping her and me Grandad run the stall. I never knew me Dad, and me mother would never speak of him, I’m a bastard you see. I signed up to the Lannisport city watch when I wasn't much older than you M’lord.”

 

"Link!" A familiar voice shouted, interrupting Lann. He whipped around to see Triston jogging towards him with a smile on his face.

 

"Well done on your win Link! I watched it from the stands with my father, he was amazed at your skill." Triston said as he caught up to Link.

 

"Thanks Triston." Link said with a friendly smile

 

"I'll talk to you later, Link. I've got to go and help my father prepare for his joust later."

 

"Tell your father good luck from me, see you at the feast Triston." Link said as he waved.

 

"Goodbye Link!" Triston shouted as he ran after his father who was no doubt up ahead.

 

Triston's father was the brother of the current Lord Massey and was a knight of good skill. Triston said that he had taught him all he knew when it came to the arts of war and that he was a good father.

 

Lann opened his mouth to continue speaking but closed it again with a click sound when he realised that they had arrived once again to the tourney grounds. As they approached his family’s box, Lann reverted to his stony silence, his face carved from ice and his green eyes no longer held the light of mischief and happiness they had when he was talking of Lannisport. Even his own men suffer under father’s reputation, Link thought darkly.

 

When they arrived at the box, only his father and Tyrion were in it, Tywin was frowning in distaste at something Tyrion had said, whilst his brother laughed at his own joke, a goblet of wine in hand.

 

“Ah, dear brother, I must congratulate you on your win earlier. It was simply marvellous to see the expression on our sweet sister’s face. A memory that I will be sure to cherish forever. “Tyrion said with a wry smile and amusement dancing in his mismatched eyes.

 

“Your welcome Tyrion” Link said with a conspiratorial grin. His Father turned his disinterested eyes from the melee that had already begun to Lann.

 

“You are dismissed Captain” Lann shot Link a small smile before bowing to his father and scurrying off as fast as he could. Tywin finally turned his eyes to Link. “We will talk about your win tonight boy, after the feast. Yes, tonight you will explain to me why you continue to defy me.” he said coldly. Tywin then rose from his seat and left the box. Tyrion and Link watched in silence as Lord Tywin sat next to Robert and Cersei in the Royal Box. Listening to her poison and Joff’s lies no doubt, Link thought bitterly.  

 

“Don’t be so grim, dear brother, father is pleased with you.” That was pleased? Link thought in shock and confusion. Seeing Link’s bewildered look, Tyrion continued with a kind smile “In his eyes, you have done more for house Lannister by accident in a day than I have in my entire life. Your act of charity has repaired our standing with the smallfolk.”

 

Suddenly everything clicked together in his mind and he let out a gasp as he realised it. “The Sack of King's Landing.” 

 

Tyrion smiled and said "Precisely brother. The small folk have hated everything associated with the name Lannister since the Sack-" Rightly so "but your actions today have reversed some of the hate that the small folk hold towards us."

 

Link tilted his head in confusion as he asked "Why would father care? He is always saying how the opinions of those he deems lesser than himself meant nothing to him. Why would changing the small folk's opinion please him?"

 

"Because Link, our father is a hypocrite. Everything he has built has been from his reputation. The small folk having more love towards us means that they will be loyal to the name Lannister. That is why father is pleased. Now watch the rest of the melee before you miss it entirely." Tyrion said with a smirk.

 

The melee lasted for 2 hours with almost 40 people taking part. Every competitor fought with blunted weapons in a small clearing that no doubt held great green luscious grass before the melee took place, but was now only mud and blood. Fearless Thoros of Myr came out on top with his blade of green fire, spooking his competitors so much that he easily swooped in and won every short duel he partook in. Like Link, Thoros was presented the winners purse by King Robert and quickly left afterwards.

 

The last part of the tourney took part later that day, and he couldn’t wait to see his brother Jaime in action for the first time. Someday soon, it will be Epona and I who will be winning all of the tourneys. The master at arms, Ser Benedict Broom, of Casterly Rock called him a prodigy in jousting, marvelling at his ability of controlling his stead. His Uncle Gerion and brother Tyrion had always joked that he was Jaime come again.

 

Silence gathered around the arena as the herald announced the challengers “Ser Walder Rivers of the Twins faces off against Ser Maldon Massey of Massey’s Hook.”

 

Triston’s father! Link thought as he immediately leaned forwards in his seat. The two knights suddenly charged at each other, great clouds of dust being kicked up in the air as their horses charged. Triston’s father was crouched down low on his horse whilst Ser Walder stood upright. They both hugged the rail as they got closer, until finally a great big crack sound echoed around the arena as Maldon’s lance shattered into a million pieces against the Frey knight’s shoulder whilst his only slid off of Maldon’s shield, Ser Walder only barely managing to stay on his horse.

 

Triston handed his father a new lance with a grin, but before Link could blink the two knights charged at each other once again. They hugged the rail as they got closer and closer. The knights brought up their lances to aim, but instead of the crack he was expecting to hear it was a wet squish. NOO! Link thought in horror as he saw the cause of the wet sound. The Frey knight's lances had rode up and went through Maldon's throat, killing him instantly. Maldon fell from his horse with a dull thud, blood squirting all over his polished armour. 

 

Triston, Link thought as he ran from the box through the stands, pushing through the throng of people. Horrified screams were sounding all around him as he tried desperately to get to Triston, to his friend. He heard the guards scrambling, shouting through the crowd to try and catch up with him, but he was too quick. 

 

When he finally pushed through the crowd he saw Triston sobbing over his father’s body with Massey men trying to pull him away from his father and the silent sisters hovering behind them.

 

“NO! Please no.” Triston shouted, tears streaming down his face, the Massey men finally able to pull Triston away from his father, allowing the silent sisters to tend to Maldon.

 

Link slowly approached Triston and placed his hand on the taller boy’s shoulder before saying. “I’m sorry Triston, I'm so very sorry.” Triston only nodded and continued weeping for the father that was forever lost to him.

 

________

 

Link didn't see Jaime joust in the end but he didn’t care, his friend had needed him and he would do anything for his friends. Triston would be going back home to Massey's Hook, to bury his father and stay with his Lord uncle, he and his father had only been in King's Landing because of the tourney.

 

Tyrion told him that Jaime had won the joust and crowned Cersei his Queen of Love and Beauty. Ahh yes, Cersei, the epitome of love and kindness, Link thought sarcastically as he walked through the halls of the Red Keep, on his way to the Great Hall for the feast. He looked up to the main dais where his family were seated with the King and his Hand. The hall was packed with people from all over Westeros. It was a boisterous affair with bards singing lively songs like The Bear and the Maiden Fair and Lords laughing at one joke or another, King Robert laughing most of all.

 

He sat down in the empty seat next to Tyrion just as the servants brought the food in. Platters of ribs roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs, salads of sweetgrass, spinach and plums, roasted onions that were dipped in gravy were among a few of the dishes that the servants brought. 

 

Tyrion turned to him with a goblet of wine in hand and sympathy written on his face. “How is your friend?” Tyrion asked softly.

 

“He’s grieving. He and his father were close, but Triston’s strong, he’ll persevere.” Link said. His father was a good man who loved his family, mine on the other hand.. Link scowled at himself, No! That's a horrible thing to think, Triston’s father is dead. As cold and loveless as my father is, I am lucky to have one, Link thought, berating himself.

 

He picked a few slices of the honeyed chicken and a portion of the salad for himself with a goblet of iced milk, sweetened with honey to wash it down. As he ate, he glanced at the glutinous Lords that ate in the hall, how they compared to the thin small folk in Flea Bottom. With his appetite gone, Link sat back in his chair and thought of Hyrule and its people, how different they were to Westeros.

 

He sensed, rather than saw his father’s eyes on him. He looked over to see his father rising from his chair and looking expectantly at him, Link rose from his chair too, said his goodbyes to Tyrion and followed after their father just as the dancing started. Like earlier that day, the halls of the Red keep were deserted, except for the occasional guards doing their rounds.

 

When he finally arrived at his father’s temporary solar, Tywin was already seated behind his desk in his chair of lions, the fire roaring beside him. His father was writing a letter and didn’t look up at him until he had finished and Link was seated in a chair opposite him. 

 

At last his father spoke, “You took your time.” he said imperiously. “You defied me today, I explicitly told you that you were not allowed to participate in the tourney but you have gone against my orders once again.”

 

“Because the punishment in the first place was unjust. Joffrey should have been punished as well!” Link said in outrage. 

 

Tywin acted as if Link didn’t even say anything and continued on “I must admit, some good has come of this. Today, you managed to improve the standing of house Lannister, even if it was only with the small folk, and for that you will be rewarded, but if you ever defy me again there will be worse consequences than not being allowed to participate in a tourney.” He said, his eyes as hard as flint. 

 

Link only nodded in resignation as a response. Wait did he say reward? Link thought in confusion. Tywin must have seen his look because he then said, “Yes, you are getting a reward. Whilst Tyrion and I go back to Casterly Rock you will stay here and be cupbearer, then squire for King Robert. It is a great honour, I was cupbearer and squire for King Aegon V when I was your age.”

I have to stay with Cersei and Joff! Link thought, dumbstruck with horror. “Thank you father, may I be excused?” Link said, as polite as he could, still reeling from his so-called reward. It's not a reward It's a punishment from father disguised as a reward Link realised. Tywin nodded and waved his hand, signalling for him to leave.

 

As he left the solar and walked through the corridors of the Red keep, he realised that for the first time in his life he wanted to stay in Casterly Rock.

_________

Hello! I know It has been a while and I deeply apologise for that, life has just been getting in the way. Between revising for even more important exams in June, getting covid, ect. It has been hectic but that is no excuse. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading! Please, if you have time, review it really does help out.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8:

 

He dreamt of a woman that night. A beautiful woman with hair that shone like the sun and two emeralds for eyes. She wore a simple dress that was as white as snow, which fluttered in the wind like clouds on a warm summer's day as she danced and laughed in a field of gold and red flowers around a great oak tree. The woman looked like Cersei.

 

I know her , Link realised. Father had a painting of her in his solar, above the hearth. "Mother" Link whispered hoarsely, his heart aching with longing.

 

His legs brought him towards her, acting on their own accord. She stopped dancing and turned away from him, day went to night in a second and the flowers wilted before his eyes. The tree died, its once bright green leaves gone, leaving a lone crow on its dead branches to peer at him with three beady eyes.

 

When he finally reached her, her white dress was no longer so pristine. It was stained with a deep crimson, blood he realised with a start, and when she turned around to face him, she was crying tears of blood. 

 

Where before, her eyes had danced with merriment and shone with life, now that light was snuffed out, devoid of life. Her once lustrous golden hair was now matted with sweat.

 

"You did this to me" Joanna Lannister said, condemning him, "You killed me" 

 

"No," Link said in a strangled whisper, "Please mother.-"

 

"You are no son of mine." Joanna said coldly.

 

Link flinched back, like he had been struck, and in that moment it was like his father was standing there instead.

 

 

The nightmare haunted Link long after he awoke. It cast doubt on everything he had thought he knew about his mother. His favourite uncle Gerion always used to say how much his mother would have loved him, and for something, even if only a dream, to disregard that, hurt him deeper than any of Cersei’s cruel barbs ever could.

 

Where are you uncle? Link thought as he looked into the night sky, remembering the nights where Gerion would tell him of ancient heroes who could control the stars, wondering if Gerion was looking at the sky in Valyria and thinking of him. 

 

It had been six moons since his father and Tyrion had left King’s Landing for the Rock, seven since his uncle had left on the Laughing Lion to Valyria. Life in King's Landing was hard, being the King's cupbearer he had to follow him everywhere to serve him his wine, and he drank a lot of wine. King Robert was similar to Lord Lydden in the way he whored and drank constantly, but was not nearly as fat as Lord Lydden and Robert had one thing that Lord Lydden would never have. A warrior's spirit, tales of the Demon of the Trident reached far and wide. Robert’s actions hurt his sister, Link knew and for that he pitied her.

 

Before his father had left, he told him that he would formally become the King’s squire on his one and tenth nameday, which was only a moon away. He would have his lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle in the mornings and then train with the master of arms, Ser Aron Santagar, in the afternoons. Ser Aron was a vain but honest man, who liked to set Link against 2 squires at once after he saw his ability with the blade. Link took to everything the master at arms set him to like a fish to water, whether it was jousting against other opponents with a lance, archery and of course each sword Link was presented with, he mastered it all. He liked to think of it as a remnant of his past life, where Zelda and Ganondorf had been able to master old magicks and unfathomable powers with their triforce pieces, he had been able to use any weapon he was presented with as if he had been a seasoned veteran, wielding it for decades.

 

The only weapons Link took difficulty in was a warhammer and a spear, he could barely even lift a warhammer off of the ground (a great feat for one as young as him, if Ser Aron is to be believed) and he never encountered a spear in his past life to use as a weapon. Where he excelled at combat, he struggled with his lessons with Pycelle. He was learning the different houses of Westeros and when on its own is not impossible, Pycelle’s droning voice made it incredibly boring. When he turned one and ten they would be moving on to the Blackfyre rebellions which would be something to look forward to Link supposed.

 

His father had commanded him to take a sworn shield whilst in the capitol, to ensure the future of house Lannister he had said. He chose Lann from Lannisport, the captain of the guards he had befriended, he much preferred Lann than Joffrey’s new sworn shield, Sandor Clegane. The Hound, as he was called, was one of the tallest men Link had ever seen, taller even than the King himself. One side of the man’s face is a ruin of scars, black flesh with scars that ooze red and his ear only a hole. He reportedly got these gruesome burns as a child, when his bedding caught fire, but some say his older brother, the Mountain, was involved. Sandor was a deeply cynical and short tempered man, who hated anything and everything to do with knighthood. The man was dutiful, following every order without fault. Possibly too dutiful. He stands by and says nothing about Joffrey’s antics, just like everyone else. Link thought bitterly.

 

Joffrey, whilst horribly cruel, was still only a small boy of six, so had some form of an excuse. His sister Cersei on the other hand was a grown woman and had no excuse for the cruelty she displayed to servants and towards him. She took any chance she could get to insult or belittle him.

 

___________

 

That afternoon Link was training with his brother Jaime. As a Kingsguard, Jaime was usually very busy with guarding the royal family, but had a free shift for the afternoon so had decided to spend it with him.

 

Jaime had decided he wanted to see how good he really was with the blade, wanting to see if Ser Aron Santagar's boasts held any merit. Link, affronted that Jaime was so quick to dismiss his martial prowess, immediately accepted Jaime's challenge.

 

They were circling each other with the other squires looking on. Jaime armed with a wooden longsword, peering at Link with his green cat-like eyes. Link was armed with an oak shield and a bastard sword, eyeing Jaime with caution.

 

Jaime made the first move, he swung his longsword down, meaning to hit Link in his padded head. Link brought his shield up and blocked the blow with a grunt. By Nayru Jaime’s strong Link thought. Link quickly riposted, aiming for Jaime’s open side, but he parried Link’s attack and yet again brought his sword down, aiming for Link’s torso this time.

 

He grit his teeth and felt his bones rattle after he blocked Jaime’s strike. Link tried to feint left, but Jaime saw through it and struck out again. He cut and slashed at Link relentlessly, forcing Link on the defensive, with every strike he blocked or parried his arms grew heavier. He cursed his ten year old body, wishing for the strength of an adult as Jaime continued his assault.

 

In Jaime’s arrogance and underestimation of Link, he had over extended, leaving his side open. Link twisted his body and swung his sword, aiming for Jaime’s unprotected side, but Jaime pulled out of reach just in time with a grin on his face, quick as a cat. Link pressed forward, catching Jaime’s longsword with his shield and slashing at Jaime with his sword.

 

In a flurry of motion, Jaime brought his sword forward and met Link’s blade with his own. Link, knowing he would lose in a battle of strength, deflected Jaime’s blade away from his own with a grunt, disengaging. Relying on instinct, Link shield bashed Jaime in the face and brought his blade up, swinging for his brother’s throat, but even disorientated and surprised Jaime was able to slap Link’s blade aside and thrust up into his open guard, his longsword resting against Link’s throat.

 

A defeated sigh escaped as Link whispered “I yield”

 

Jaime laughed and said “Do not worry dear brother, you are only ten. You performed better against me than most grown men would.” 

 

Link only nodded in response. I need to be better, I will not fail again. He thought with determination. As the brothers sat down, wineskins of water in hand, Link’s thoughts wandered to their mother and his nightmare.

 

“Would mother have hated me?” Link asked tentatively, eyeing Jaime from the corner of his eye.

 

Jaime smiled at Link, eyes shining with sympathy. “Our mother loved you, Link, never doubt that. Do not listen to Cersei and her barbs.”

 

Link nodded and rose, doubt lingering in his mind. “I best go and attend the King brother, thank you for sparring with me.”

 

Jaime laughed and said “Any time dear brother, now go attend our fat oaf of a King.” Link frowned at his words but left with a wave anyway.

 

_________

 

Long after the sun had gone down and after Lann was asleep, Link would explore the Red Keep to his heart’s content. Discovering secret passageways that hadn’t been used in decades.

 

One night Link had found himself finding a room that was long abandoned. Tapestries of dragons hung from the walls, depicting battles and clashes between dragons and armies of men. Aegon's conquest Link realised. The tapestries were finely made with jewels and garnets adorning them.

The biggest of the tapestries depicted the burning of Harrenhal, the deaths of Harren and his sons, the end of his line.

 

Tomes that looked to be hundreds of years old lined the floor, blanketed by dust and grime. Link crouched down and looked at the only book that seemed to be in a state fit to read. The Prophecies of House Targaryen the cover read. Link dropped the book as if he was burned, he had experienced enough failed prophecies in his last life.

 

In the centre of the room there was a stool, and on the stool a harp sat. The harp was fit for a child, with silver strings and crimson rubies adorning it. It reminded him of Sheik, of Zelda and how they would play music together. He took the harp and raced back to his chambers, all the while resolving to get lessons in the high harp as soon as he could, to honour Zelda.

 

This particular night, Link had decided to follow one particular deep passageway. He walked in the dark, dank passageway with only a small torch for what felt like hours until Link found himself in a large cavernous hall with dark piles of rubble beneath each of the walls. Not rubble, Dragon Skulls, Link realised as he walked further into the room. He looked to the largest skull in the room, Balerion the Black Dread. Link was in awe of it, its teeth as long as swords and jaw so wide it could swallow him whole. 

 

This is the dragon that burned Harrenhall. One of three that conquered Westeros. Link thought in reverence. He was relieved that he only had to slay Volvagia in his old life and not a monster of this size. The dragons' eyeless skulls seemed to watch him as he walked among them, judging him.

 

Soon, he heard footsteps and the faint echo of mens' voices as they came closer to the dank cellar. Fearing that he would be caught and later berated by Cersei, Link fled through the secret passageway, leaving the skulls of the once great Targaryen dragons behind him.


He ran through the passageways, never looking back, until finally he saw some dim light at the end of the tunnel. Cool wind hit his face as he found himself looking out over the waters of Blackwater Bay. Link felt himself pale as he realised his grave mistake, in his haste to flee he had taken a wrong turn. Instead of finding himself in front of his rooms in Maegor’s holdfast, he was outside of King’s Landing entirely. How deep do those passages go? Link wondered. There was one thing that Link knew for certain. Cersei was going to kill him.

________

Thank you for reading! This chapter took a while due to me getting new WiFi and because the duel between Link and Jaime was really hard to write. Read and review!

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

 

As the waves of the Blackwater rush crashed against the sandy shores of Blackwater Bay  Link contemplated his situation. He could head back through the secret passageway and run the risk of getting truly lost in the tunnels or he could run into the people that were in the passageways. The only other option would be to try and sneak through one of the many gates of King’s Landing.

 

What would Navi do? Link thought, his heart longing for his fairy companion. He knew that if he were to try and sneak into the city that he would have to wait until curfew was over and the gates would be open, at daybreak. This was without even mentioning the dangers that King’s Landing itself presented with Link being weaponless.

 

His torch was steadily waning as the hour of the nightingale came to an end, I do not have much time left , he thought as he paced along the enclosed bay. The servants would be at his rooms to wake him an hour after dawn had broke so he had about two hours until he would be found out.

 

With his torch dying on him, Link knew that he would have no hope of traveling through the winding passageways in complete darkness. So, with no other option, Link made his way to the Iron Gate.

 

As Link trudged through the wet, squelchy sand his thoughts wandered to King Robert and their first meeting with him as his cupbearer. 

 

________

 

He walked through the great oak doors of the Royal apartments, Jaime letting him through with a grin and an encouraging nod. The room he was met with was richly furnished with myrish carpets and great tapestries from Qohor and Lys depicting great battles and greater beauties.

 

Above the hearth, rested the head of a great stag with eight and ten points on its antlers. Finally, Link's eyes rested on the King himself. Robert was seated in a great ironwood throne with a great silver goblet of arbor gold in hand.

 

As soon as King Robert’s stormy blue eyes snapped to him, Link knelt and bowed his head. Robert let him kneel for a second as he guzzled down the dregs of his arbor gold, with a drop of it dribbling from his mouth into his great beard.

 

He slammed down the goblet onto the table with a content sigh, bidding Link to sit down in the admittedly smaller, but no less grand, ironwood chair across from him with a loud "Rise!" That echoed across the large chamber.

 

"So, you're the brother that Cersei keeps moaning about." The King said, his face stony.

 

"Yes, your grace, I am." Link said, without fear, looking into Robert’s dark blue eyes.

 

Robert laughed in response, the sound bouncing off of the walls, nearly deafening Link in the process.

 

"Your brother tells me that you're a prodigy with the blade, Santagar tells me that you're the damned Warrior Reborn whilst your sister tells me that you're nothing but a sullen boy. So tell me, Lannister, what do you say?" The King asked once he had stopped laughing.

 

Link took a moment to think on his answer before replying. If you say that you're amazing at swordplay and that you beat all of the boys your age and above, Robert will think that you are nothing more than an arrogant child. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his father’s whispered in his mind. But if you are too humble Robert will think you weak. Link shook his head to rid him of his thoughts and opened his mouth to speak the truth.

 

"I think, your grace, that I am good. Possibly better than my brother Jaime when he was my age, but something I have learned is that the sword is not everything." 

 

Link paused as Zelda’s horrified eyes flashed in his mind. He swallowed thickly and continued.

 

"My brother Tyrion always says that as people we all have our different abilities. Jaime and I, we have combat, whilst Tyrion has his intelligence. My point is your grace is that yes, I may be great at most things martial, but I struggle with things others find easy, like histories or house words."

 

Robert only looked at him dubiously as he stewed on his words, and then all the tension in the King's shoulders evaporated with another booming laugh.

 

"It has been a very long time since someone has been so honest with me about themselves Lannister. You are nothing like your sister." Something dark passed over the King's face as he said this.

 

"Now! It's time you get me more wine boy, this goblet won't fill itself!" Robert shouted with another booming laugh.

 

_______

 

As the sun bled across the waters of Blackwater Bay, Link made his way to the Rosby Road. One hour remains Link thought to himself, grimly. The Rosby Road was almost deserted except from two lone travelers on old horses that looked ready to drop dead from exhaustion. 

 

As Link traveled closer to them, he realised that the two travelers were holy brothers in simple brown robes, a far cry from the silk that the High Septon reportedly covered himself in.

 

"What brings you to Rosby Road so early, young one?" The older holy brother asked, curious.

 

"To get into King’s Landing holy brother, will you help me?" Link asked impulsively.

 

"You will have to walk." The younger holy brother said as he spurred his old horse into a trot. Link scrambled to follow after the Holy men.

 

"What brings you to King’s Landing?" Link asked the elder brother.

 

The man smiled at Link kindly as he said, "to help the poor and to see the Great Sept of Baelor. We wish to show our devotion to the Seven by traveling across the Seven Kingdoms, visiting septs and helping those in need."

 

Link nodded, his curiosity sated. As they reached the walls of King’s Landing, the gold cloaks stopped them and asked them their purpose. The kind man told them what he had told Link, they were holy men to see the Sept of Baelor. The gold cloaks let them in with a nod and a suspicious glance.

 

When they entered King’s Landing, the sun was surely above the waters of King’s Landing and Link knew that he had less than an hour to make his way through the winding, cramped streets of Flea Bottom and King’s Landing to get to the Red Keep. He hastily bid the Holy brothers goodbye and set off running through the stinking streets of Flea Bottom, if Link could even call them streets. They were unpaved side alleys, so tight and cramped that the buildings nearly touched.

 

Around every corner there seemed to be gaggles of men drinking cheap ale and eating bowls of brown, gambling and betting in the rat pits. Some would leer at Link, with danger in their eyes, analysing his dirty, but still highborn clothing. He needed to leave Flea Bottom, or he could end up in a pot of brown.

 

In every direction or street he went, a group of men followed. There were three men in total, the largest being nearly double his size. I'm being followed , Link thought with a hint of anxiety, I must hurry. He picked up his pace and started to run in the direction of Aegon’s high hill, dodging butchers and half starved orphans as he went.

 

As he ran into another alley he came to a stop. "Oh Gods no." Link whispered, his way blocked by a tall rotting fence. He spun around to see the group of men, grinning with morbid delight.

 

"Well looky what we got here Gared, a little Lord." The tallest and no doubt the leader of the trio said with unrestrained malice. "Come with us milord and we promise that it'll be quick."

 

"Never!" Link shouted in defiance, eyeing a small rotting pole made from wood sticking out from the ground.

 

"So be it little Lord." The man said with a deranged grin. The smallest man lunged at him with long thin arms, contrasting his short legs, as Link reached for the pole and pulled it from the ground with a grunt of exertion. Link swung around, using the momentum from pulling the pole out of the ground and hit the man reaching at him, presumably Gared, across the jaw.

 

The force of the hit caused Gared's face to explode in a mess of gore, teeth and blood spraying from the man’s mouth. The man let out a low moan and went down like a sack of bricks.

 

Link rushed the second man and bashed him in the knee with the pole turned club, causing the man to fall to one knee with a high pitched whine. He brought the pole up once more and quickly bashed it against the top of the bald man's scalp, and to Link’s horror, the pole exploded in a shower of splinters and blood as soon as he did. The man went down with a thud.

 

Before he could blink, the final man was upon him, raising a large meaty fist to strike him. Link ducked and rolled away from the punch, kicking the man's legs and causing his knees to buckle as he went. Without pause, Link hit the man as hard as he could in the head, causing him to go down as well.

 

That was too close, Link thought as he wiped his dirty hands on his dirtier doublet. Before he could react, the leader of the trio launched himself from the ground and struck Link so hard in the stomach that he saw stars. The man grabbed Link off of the ground by his doublet and reared his hand back to strike him once more, but before he could the man's mud brown eyes widened and he dropped Link to the ground. 

 

The leader gurgled and coughed on his own blood before collapsing, revealing a young girl, only a few years older than Link himself. The girl, Link realised, was beautiful and clean. She had silver blonde hair that shone like a shower of silver in the dim lighting, and lilac eyes. Paired with her unblemished porcelain skin, the girl looked like a Targaryen from one of Grand Maester Pycelle’s history books. 

 

In her hand, she wielded a bloody knife that she had no doubt used to stab the man who was terrorising him.

 

"What?" The girl asked shortly. Link blushed a deep crimson, realising he had been staring all that time.

 

"Sorry my Lady-"

 

"I'm no Lady!" The girl interrupted.

 

"Oh er, sorry for staring. Thank you for the help with him." Link said awkwardly as he nodded at the fallen man, blushing deeper than he thought possible.

 

"No problem, I never liked him anyway." The smallfolk girl said, unbothered by her actions. "Who are you then?"

 

"My name is Link my La-" the girl's glare disabused him of his next words. "My name is Link." 

 

"Link what?" The girl asked rudely. "I know your highborn, so there's no use lying to me." 

 

Link racked his brain for an answer, he didn't want to actually tell the girl his name. Even with his actions on the day of the tourney, he didn't think this girl would appreciate him being a Lannister. Triston's face flashed before his eyes and he had an answer.

 

"Link Massey is my name, what's yours if you don't mind me asking?" He asked with trepidation.

 

"The names Val, short for Valonqar." Val answered.

 

"Valonqar?" Link asked. Valonqar was High Valyrian for something, he knew that much from old Pycelle. Little something, oh what was it? Link wondered.

 

"Yes Valonqar, it means little sister in High Valyrian, people call me that cause I'm like their little sister you see." Val said smugly.

 

That was it, little brother! Link thought, kicking himself.

 

"I thought it meant little brother?" Link asked carefully.

 

"No! The septa said it means little sister and thats that!" Val exclaimed angrily. 

 

Link only nodded, to tired for an argument and Val, taking his nod as an agreement smiled a dazzling smile full of pearly white teeth.

 

"I'll bring you to the septa if you want Link! Then we can go out and have an adventure!" Val said excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

 

"I can't, I need to get back to the Red Keep, but I'll visit you soon." Link swore to her, full of sympathy.

 

Val's put out frown turned into a brilliant smile once more. "I live in the orphanage, with the other kids. I'll see you soon!" Before Link could do so much as blink, Val was gone with a wave, going through a small hole in the rotting fence.

 

"Bye Val." Link whispered with a smile. The Red Keep! I don't have much time left! Link thought, berating himself for spending so much time talking with Val as he ran out of the narrow unpathed streets of Flea Bottom, towards the great square of King’s Landing at the foot of Visenya's Hill. 

 

Not far from the square, there was an entrance to the tunnels below the Red Keep. The tunnel, whilst dark, was not nearly as dark and difficult to map out as the one that saw him outside of King’s Landing in the first place.

 

Link ran as fast as his legs could take him, he ran until his lungs and already tired muscles screamed for reprieve until he finally reached the bustling Square. Merchants sold many goods from the brightest Tyroshi dies to the finest Dornish Red's. Link ignored them all, continuing until he found the dank entrance to the tunnels. 

 

Link grinned at the sight of the entrance and made sure to breathe through his mouth as he ran through the passageway, rancid sewer water splashing all over his boots and breaches. I should burn these clothes when I get back to the Keep, Link thought with disgust.

 

He ran through the tunnels for what felt like hours, panic creeping up his spine. Cersei can't find out, I need to get back. When he finally saw the rays of light at the end of the tunnel, he could have wept with relief. 

 

He almost killed the maids from fright when he came running out of an unused storage cupboard, he grinned and shrugged apologetically in response, before quickly speeding through the halls of the Red Keep and entering Maegor’s holdfast through the drawbridge, the guards giving him  bewildered and disgusted glances as he passed. 

 

When he finally reached his gaudy chambers, he saw that a fire was roaring in the hearth, just how he left it. Worryingly, he noticed that the fire hadn't died out since he left but once he saw that the decoy of pillows he had put in place was untouched all his worries and anxieties left him.

 

He quickly stripped out of all his clothing and happily threw them in the hearth and watched them burn with great satisfaction. He asked, never ordered, the maids to draw him a bath and sank into it with relief.

 

Crisis averted, thank Farore. Link thought as he watched the sun rise higher in the sky, the start of a new day.

 

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Thanks for reading! I hope you all liked this chapter and please review, I love  talking to you all and hearing your opinions. This might be my last update for a little while because I have some really important exams coming up. Thank you!

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

 

His name day came and went, and with it came gifts. Jaime gifted him a Qohorik forged bastard sword, tinted a pale gold. Weapons and armour created in Qohorik forges were superior to any made in Westeros, with only the coveted Valyrian Steel being superior to them. 

 

When Jaime presented the blade to him, light reflected off of it, giving it an appearance of having an ethereal glow. The pommel of the blade was a roaring lion of pure gold with rubies for eyes and a leather grip. The sword was not unlike Jaime’s own gilded longsword. 

 

Link looked at the magnificent blade with awe as Jaime said, “Now our blades can match brother, though you will have to grow some more before wearing it on your hip.”

 

Link thanked his brother profusely for the gift, knowing that it wasn't cheap to buy such a thing, even with Lannister gold. As the two brothers walked through the halls of the Red Keep towards the throne room where court was in session, Jaime told Link stories of fighting side by side with legends like Arthur Dayne against the Kingswood Brotherhood.

 

“With Dawn in hand, Arthur had no equal.” Jaime said, his cat-like eyes distant.

 

Link nodded sagely before saying, “He must have fought with honour”

 

Jaime barked a short and harsh laugh, turning to look at Link with dark, hooded eyes.

 

“Honour gets you killed, Link. One way or another, look at Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, see where honour took him. Honour is a lie men tell themselves.” Jaime said, his voice dripping with cynicism.

 

Link was astounded. “That's not true!” He exclaimed, “honour is not a lie. Honour is a goal, something to hold yourself to, a standard. Take Ser Aemon the Dragonknight or Ser Duncan the Tall for an example. They were honourable men but that didn't kill them, Ser Duncan died in the tragedy of Summerhall and Ser Aemon was killed defending his brother from assassins.”  

 

Jaime wasn’t convinced. “Those men of song may have been honourable but that honour still killed them as it did Arthur Dayne.” Jaime said, tone harsh and unyielding.

 

As Jaime said this, Link’s mind went back to his conversation with the King earlier and how he mentioned his friend, Lord Eddard Stark.

 

“Lord Eddard Stark is called one of the most honourable men in Westeros and he still lives, he is the one who slew Arthur Dayne in battle.” Link said with triumph.

 

Jaime once again laughed a short harsh laugh, before saying with a mocking smile, “Ah yes, the honourable Ned Stark. He still failed in his honour, he has a bastard does he not? Whilst it is true that Stark killed Ser Arthur, it was nothing like the songs make it out to be. Take this one lesson to heart dear brother, life is not a song. Now enough of this arguing, today is a day of celebration.”

 

To this, Link only nodded, not expecting such a reaction from his brother. His heart sank as he realised that Jaime wasn’t as perfect as Tyrion’s stories made him out to be. The two brothers continued the walk to the throne room in silence. Link pondered their conversation as they walked through the halls of the Red Keep, wondering how far Jaime’s cynicism went and what he had against Lord Eddard Stark.

 

As they walked through the great doors of the throne room the brothers went their separate ways, Link retreating to the corner of the hall with Lann, whilst Jaime made his way to their sister Cersei. The Queen was in a jubilant mood today, acting pleasant towards most that came to court. Not everyone it seems, Link thought as he noticed the poisonous glare Cersei sent his way.

 

Many a Lord and Lady wished him a happy nameday and inquired on how he was progressing. He was not so arrogant to believe all these sycophants were sincere, no Link knew that the only reason they bothered to speak with him, an untested boy of little repute, was for his father.

 

One such Lord that approached him was Lord Eustace Brune of Dyre Den, even at that moment, Link could still hear the droning voice of Grand Maester Pycelle telling him the histories of houses like House Brune from the Crownlands.

 

“Lord Link may I wish you a happy name day, from what I hear someday you will be as good a swordsman as your brother Ser Jaime.” Lord Eustace said, his hand hovering over Link’s shoulder but not quite touching it in case Lann might interrupt him.

 

“Has there been any word on your uncle, Ser Gerion, from his journey to Old Valyria?” The man asked with curiosity.

 

“No, I am afraid there hasn’t been any word on my uncle, but I have full confidence-”

 

“Ha!” Lord Eustace exclaimed, “I apologise my Lord, but your uncle was foolish to venture into such an accursed place. Your Lord father on the other hand is a truly great man.” The Lord said, oblivious to any offence he may have caused.

 

Link felt fury rush through his veins at the Lord’s words, how dare he say such things! Gerion is worth ten of father and Lord Brune both. Link thought with vehemence. 

 

“Thank you for your kind words my Lord, they mean a lot, if you would excuse me.” Link said hurriedly, eager to escape this situation. Lord Brune nodded and shook Link’s hand with a manic grin, the man then leaned in and ruffled Link’s hair, furthering Link’s discomfort and fury.

 

As the man walked off, as pleased as a peacock, Link turned to see Cersei glaring at him once more, her eyes filled with hate and strangely fear. What have I done to make her fear me? Link thought with no small amount of worry.

 

Jon Arryn held court today on the Iron Throne, Robert was no doubt in his chambers, drinking and whoring. Each morning, Link was required to attend court, just because Cersei knew he hated it. A petty punishment, but one he still felt all the same.

 

Before the Lord Hand could make his next decree, Cersei cleared her throat and looked to all who attended court that day, her gaze silencing all it fell on. 

 

“My Lords and Ladies, his Grace and I have a very important announcement to make.” Cersei said, her head raised proudly. “I am pleased to announce that I am with child.” The moment she finished the hall erupted in applause for the happy news and Cersei’s gaze turned to him, seemingly mocking him for the loss of his well wishers.

 

Link only gave Cersei a beaming smile full of teeth in response. He was grateful for the bootlickers looking elsewhere, he found their words and grasping nature’s uncomfortable at best. With Cersei distracted by the congratulations she was receiving, Link quickly left the Throne Room and made his way to his lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle.

 

As he walked through the halls of the keep, his thoughts turned to his sister Cersei and her pregnancy. Now that she’s pregnant, Cersei will be in even fouler moods than usual. Paired with the sickness and cravings of pregnancy his sister’s barbs and pettiness would increase tenfold.

 

Thoughts of Cersei’s potential morning sickness made Link remember the last time he was sick. Ever since he was a small child, Link could only recall being sick once. Two years prior, at the end of the futile Greyjoy Rebellion at the Tourney at Lannisport. Just before all the nobles of Westeros were to arrive at Lannisport, he fell ill with redspots. Due to all of his siblings not contracting redspots when they were children, he was unable to go to the tourney and meet Cersei and Jaime.

 

He would never forget the crushing disappointment that he had felt when the maester had ordered that no one was to see him and that he wasn’t allowed to attend the tourney. Link could still remember hearing the shouts and jovial cheers of one of the many feasts held during the tourney echo through the Lannisport manse.

 

The only member of his family who was able to comfort him was Gerion, who, like Link, had contracted redspots when he was a child. He could still remember his Uncle’s warm smile and self-deprecating japes whilst he told him stories of the wonders of the world and knights like Ser Arthur Dayne and Symeon Star-Eyes. It made Link appreciate his Uncle even further when he missed the tourney to comfort him.

 

Come back soon Gerion, I hate this stinking viper’s den. Link thought with desperation, after so many moons without word from his uncle on his expedition to the ruins of Valyria, many at court had expressed doubt on him coming back to Westeros. No! Gerion can’t be dead, he swore to me that he would be back, he thought angrily. He must be on his way back or lost, and if he is lost father will surely send men to find him, even if he believed Gerion’s quest to be folly he can’t abandon his brother.

 

Noticing Link’s dark thoughts and expression, Lann made to reassure Link. “Pay no attention to the spineless leeches at court milord, I’m sure your uncle, Lord Gerion, is fine” Lann said kindly, with a comforting smile.

 

Link only nodded in reply, banishing the thoughts of his uncle from his mind whilst the pair arrived at the room where his lessons were held. Link nodded to Lann once more as he left him to face Pycelle alone.

 

As Link entered and closed the door behind him, the Grand Maester rose from his chair and made his way to the front of the room. Link hurried to his seat absentmindedly thumbing the silver lion brooch that Tyrion had gifted him along with books detailing the adventures of Ser Duncan the Tall and his then squire, King Aegon the Unlikely.

 

“Good morning Lord Link, in preparation for your future lessons on Daemon Blackfyre and his family’s failed rebellions, you will first learn the extensive histories of house Targaryen up to Daemon Blackfyre receiving the sword, Blackfyre. ” Pycelle said in his persistent droning voice.

 

Link could only slump in his chair as he realised that lessons with the Grand Maester would always be boring. 

 

____________

 

After his lessons with Grand Maester Pycelle, Link made his way to the King’s chambers to officially begin his squireship. Thank Farore those damned lessons are over. Link thought grouchily. First Pycelle tries to kill with boredom from describing in vivid detail the life of Aenar the Exile, then he tries to murder me with numbers.

 

Link’s internal complaints came to a stop as he entered the King’s compartments with a nod from Ser Meryn Trant guarding the entrance. As per usual the king was steadily drinking from a jewelled goblet, though absent of any company. Most days when Link had served King Robert as his cupbearer, the king would be in the company of Thoros of Myr or other drinking companions. So for the King to be alone meant two things. The first was that Robert wanted to speak with him alone, but the second, and more likely, was that the King was in one of his foul moods. During such moods, Robert would lament the fate of the late Lyanna Stark and curse Rhaegar Targaryen even more vehemently than usual.

 

The King looked up at his squire once he heard Link tread on the myrish carpets, grinning at him as he looked at Link with his stormy blue eyes. The King finished his goblet of wine and continued to stare at Link as he bowed and made his way to pour the King another goblet of Dornish Red.

 

“You are my squire now Lannister.” Robert said, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, “As your knight I must take charge with your martial education, so you will take lessons with Ser Aron Santagar with the other squires as I have other duties that take my attention.”

 

Link felt himself deflate as heard the King’s words. He liked the Dornish master at arms well enough but to learn from the King himself, one of the most renowned warriors throughout the seven kingdoms, would have been a great opportunity.

 

The King must have noticed Link’s disappointment as he smiled once more. “Today though I shall watch you in the yard, to see the truth behind you and your admirers words.” Robert said with amusement.

 

As they walked through and over the drawbridge of Maegor’s Holdfast, the King once again recounted a blow by blow description of his duel with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident to all who would hear, which was quite a lot of people by now, Link noted. The King attracted sycophants like flames attracted moths.

 

Once they reached the Red Keep’s training grounds, Robert called out to Ser Aron who was going through a drill with the other squires and pages. “Ser Aron!” Robert boomed.

 

“Your grace, how may I be of service.” The Dornishman asked after falling to one knee. The training grounds were boiling, the sun causing the obsidian in the King’s crown to sparkle.

 

Robert motioned Ser Aron to rise with an impatient wave before saying, “I want to see the measure of my squire’s talent.” The King then turned to him, and with a grin said, “Lannister, you will spar against Ser Aaron with tourney blades and if you lose I will make you squire for Sandor Clegaane for a week” 

 

Link opened his mouth to protest, Clegane wasn’t even a knight and was a foul man to be around, but begrudgingly swallowed his protests. King Robert was the King , he couldn’t be insolent with him like he was with Lord Tywin. His father would stare at him coldly and dismiss him, but Robert was temperamental and prone to rage especially when drunk as he was now. Link nodded to the King and went to get a blunted bastard sword from the rack with a shield whilst putting on some boiled leather as armour.

 

Standing before Ser Aron with all the squires watching, Link was filled with adrenaline, I will not fail, not like I did with Jaime or the thugs from Flea Bottom. I will win! Link swore with righteous fury.

 

“Are you ready boy?” Ser Aron asked gruffly but not unkindly. Link bounced on the balls of his feet, his body singing with anticipation, and nodded, readying his bastard sword and shield into proper position. Time seemed to stop around him as he evaluated the man. After training with him for seven moons Link was familiar with Ser Aron’s style, he favoured speed rather than brute strength and enjoyed putting on a show, especially for powerful men like the King. I will have to use that against him, Link thought.

 

Ser Aron made the first move, slashing his blade as quick as a whip, aiming for Link’s torso. Link blocked with his shield and quickly slashed out at the Master at arms’ arm, the knight reacted just like Link wanted, blocking the attack with his sword rather than hopping back, leaving the Dornishman’s side open. Link took advantage of this and bashed his shield into Ser Aron’s unprotected shoulder, causing the man to stumble, before forcing the man on the defence with a flurry of slashes and stabs.

 

The knight blocked every one of his strikes and kicked out at Link, causing him to hop back, creating the space that Ser Aron had dearly wished to create between them. They circled each other once more, Ser Aron twirling his blade as he did so. Every time the knight blocked his attacks, he favoured his right side whilst doing so, no doubt still hurting after having Link’s heavy shield bash against his shoulder. The Knight’s breaths came out in pained huffs compared to the start of the fight and his face was covered in a light sheen of sweat. A plan formed in Link’s mind as he leapt out to continue their dangerous dance.

 

Link feinted to the right and the tired Ser Aron took the bait, Link reared back and slashed his blade into the man’s protected ribs causing him to flinch in pain. Link took advantage of his natural reaction and bashed the pommel of his sword into the man’s jaw, causing Ser Aron’s head to snap back. Link then bashed his shield into Ser Aron’s shoulder once more before slapping the man’s blade away from him with his own and brought his sword up to the master at arms’ throat.

 

“Yield Ser.” Link said with finality.

 

“I yield.” The Dornishamn said with a pained laugh.

__________

 

That night Link did what he did near every other night, he went to visit Val. Sometimes he would go down to Flea Bottom like he did tonight, disguised as a member of the smallfolk with only a dagger in the dead of night without any guard. Other times he would go as himself, Link son of Tywin and Joanna Lannister, heir to the Rock. He would give out all of his coppers to the people with Lann and a retinue of Lannister guards at his side.

 

On nights like this though, Link was alone with Val on a rooftop overlooking the city of King’s Landing and its people celebrating the news of a new Royal child on the way. This particular night, Link had brought his harp with him. His teacher was astonished at his rapid progress with the instrument, calling him a prodigy like many others have done. Their praise made him melancholy and made him think of Zelda.

 

“I've never heard this song before Link.” Val said, her silver hair shimmering in the moonlight.

 

“That's because it's very rare, Val. From a far away kingdom called Hyrule. It’s called the song of time and the stories say that if played with a special instrument it can send the player back in time.” Link said softly, sadness and guilt almost suffocating him.

 

“Tell me more about Hyrule Link, it sounds like a land of adventure!” Val said, her grin and shining eyes showing her eagerness.


So he did. Link told Val all about Hyrule, from its creation by the Golden Goddesses, to all the different races of Hyrule. When he told her of the Gerudo she laughed and wished to be just like the warrior women. In response, Link only smiled sadly. He even told her of his quest, changed to have a more happy ending, just like the songs of all the great knights. Val loved the story of the Hero of Time, for it was just that, a story. Jaime was half right. There is honour in this world, but life is not a song. The songs are just idealised versions of the Knights they detail, most of whom did not have a happy ending. Just like me.

 

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Hello everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long but I had some trouble with it and I'm still not sure that I am happy with it. My exams are thankfully over now, which is a relief. I can now focus on writing this story. I spent quite a bit of time planning out the details of this fic and the ending of it. I have decided that there will be four parts to this fic, part one has around one or two chapters left.

 

Thanks for reading and please review it helps a lot!

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

 

Link sighed with content as he blearily rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, feeling fully rested for once. The dreams of his mother had only grown worse as time went by. Each dream differed slightly, whether it was his mother appearing to him dying in her bed of blood or Zelda condemning him as well. Two things remained constant though, his mother’s vitriol and more disturbingly, a three eyed crow. 

 

Link had desperately tried anything to get rid of the dreams and the ghosts within them that haunted him. Nothing Pycelle tried worked, not even dreamless sleep. After one especially harrowing nightmare, Link had delved into the catacombs of the Red Keep, to the ancient room where he had discovered the old harp and tapestries of house Targaryen. 

 

He scoured through the old tomes the room held, anything containing a possible relief to his dreams. His discoveries were a mixed bag. Some of the books described Valyrian rituals of blood sacrifice and fire, whilst others told the tale of a prince that would bring the dawn. That one time led Link to the conclusion that Targaryens were truly mad.

 

One particular book told Link a different story. Centuries of Targaryen's, he found, had what the books described as dragon dreams, dreams that told the future in some way. The most famous example being Daenys the Dreamer, who dreamt of the Doom of Valyria and saved her family from destruction.

 

Instead of trying to do a dubious ritual that would probably kill him, Link decided to do what, in Link’s opinion, the most sane Targaryen, Aegon the Unlikely, did. Write the dreams down. This way he could analyse the horrors in his dreams and see if they have any connection to the future, or in Link’s case, the past.

 

During his studies with the Grand Maester, Link had come to admire Aegon the Fortunate. In all of his lessons on the Targaryens and their inevitable downfall, he had come to realise that Aegon V was the Targaryen King who cared most for his people. Whilst Jaehaerys the Conciliator healed the wounds from his uncle's reign and ensured that the Seven Kingdoms would remain one realm, and Daeron the Young Dragon was a prodigy in strategy, it was the Unlikely that truly loved his people.

 

Gerion would tell him stories of how he was a good King and a greater man. His father Tywin disagreed of course. He remembered when he was small, smaller than he was now anyway, before the futile Greyjoy rebellion, of a conversation he had with his father.

 

"Aegon the Unlikely was a weak King who couldn't even control his own children. He let his naive ideals almost destroy this kingdom." Tywin had said, his eyes pale chips of jade, unyielding and cruel.

 

"He was a good man and a good King. Westeros would be better with men like him in it." Link had said in response, waving a chubby hand in frustration. Tywin had only frowned deeper in distaste before turning away to peer deeper into the gaudy fireplace.

 

"I will not suffer your presence boy, not when you continue to blithely ignore me. Leave me." Tywin near whispered. Link had frozen in shock, it was his sixth name day and he had been excited to spend time with his father, who was always so cold and distant.

 

"I said leave. I will not suffer your insolence now, not on the day that you killed your mother." His father had said, his voice colder than the fiercest Northern winds.

 

That was the day he realised that his father would never truly be a father to him, that only Gerion would tell him of the adventures of Ser Duncan the Tall and Aegon the Unlikely, that only his Aunt Genna would dote on him when he was especially melancholic.

 

Link would visit the people of Flea Bottom quite frequently, to try and connect to them as Aegon the Unlikely did. Most of the time, he would be disguised as a fellow member of the smallfolk, dressed in clothes that he had bought off of a stable boy for a golden dragon. When he had handed the coin over, the stable boy's eyes had grown as wide as dinner plates. Those times he would leave the Red Keep during the hour of the wolf and explore with Val at his side.

 

With her, he would eat greasy bowls of brown, no matter how foul they were and how much they made him gag, and play with other orphans from the orphanage. She introduced him to her Septa, Jeyne, who was more of a big sister to her than septa. Jeyne then told him stories of Val as a babe, and how she ran the orphanage. Val, like most of the other children in the orphanage, was found abandoned by Jeyne on the side of the street. I’m lucky, I could have been born to a whore and abandoned on the street to die, like Val. How would I have been able to be like Aegon then? Link thought as he stared at the rotting walls of the orphanage as Val chatted away about some adventure they would have later.

 

As Septa Jeyne called Val and the other, smaller children for their supper, Link stared at the rotting wooden walls of the small orphanage. Link felt a wave of guilt hit him, Tywin Lannister may be a terrible father and Cersei a terrible sister, but at least he had family who cared, like Tyrion, Jaime, Gerion, Gennna and the rest. He lived in luxury whilst the people of Flea Bottom lived in poverty. It wasn't fair, but Link had quickly learned that Westeros was an unfair place.

 

Soon he found himself alone outside, with only Septa Jeyne standing in the entrance peering at him with her Hazel eyes. Jeyne was a short plump woman, with greying brown hair and a long hooked nose.

 

Jeyne must have seen him staring as she blushed. "I know it doesn't compare to the Red Keep milord Massey, but our funds have run thin ever since the silver prince died." Jeyne said, before blushing a deeper red after mentioning the silver Prince. Rhaegar Targaryen. Link realised, giver of alms and raper, it seems he took atleast one thing from his grandfather.

 

After his encounter with Jeyne the Septa, Link had given her his monthly allowance, a bag of gold dragons, silver stags and coppers, a fortune that most members of the smallfolk wouldn't make in twenty years. Once he handed the bag to her, the woman cried out and hugged him, fat crocodile tears running down his face all the while. Link left Flea Bottom that night with a smile on his face tinged with melancholy, feeling like he was back in Hyrule again, helping ordinary people with Navi and Epona by his side.

 

Other times Link would go out with a retinue of red cloaks and give out coppers to the people of King’s Landing; the mothers with their new babes, orphans who, unlike Val, had no septon or septa to care for them. Every time he left the Red Keep and ventured into the city below, Link learned something new. Whether it was about the lives of the smallfolk themselves or about their opinions on the arbitrary ways of the nobles that called King’s Landing their home.

 

It was in them moments that Link most keenly felt the disgust he held for the nobles of this world, for men like his father, Tywin Lannister, who would never stop grasping for more power, and himself for being able to live in luxury as he watched the swollen stomachs and the bulging eyes of the half starved smallfolk.

 

Link knew that eventually Cersei or his father would find out about his escapades to Flea Bottom with Val, he had heard stories about how extensive the Spider’s spy network was throughout Westeros. Something about Lord Varys felt off to Link, whenever he would see him in court, the King’s Master of whispers would titter and flatter him like he does to every Lord but every once in a while Varys would flash him a knowing look or a secretive smile. Link knew that it was only a matter of time before his secrets were revealed. 

 

Throughout his time as King Robert’s squire, he had encountered all of his small council. The old honourable Lord Arryn, who was always kind to him whilst he polished Robert’s unused armour when the old falcon met with the King. Lord Stannis however, wasn't kind, in fact he was an unforgiving, hard man and gave off a constant air of disapproval with his stormy Baratheon glare and the grinding of his teeth. Nevertheless, Link respected the Lord of Dragonstone for his honour and strong sense of justice. Link had only ever attended one small council session and from it he witnessed first hand Stannis Baratheon's unyielding stubbornness and uncompromising righteousness.

 

_______

 

Link’s peaceful pondering lasted all of five minutes before a heavy knock echoed throughout his chambers and clarity hit him like a battering ram. Oh Nayru I'm late again. Link thought in despair, as he hopped out of his bed and hurried to dress.

 

"The first time I'm going to see Tyrion in over a year and I'm late." Link bemoaned to himself. Since Link had started serving the King as cupbearer and now squire, he had missed his older brother Tyrion. It was with Tyrion that Link would tell his nightmares, of how they always contained a never ending cycle of death and regret. Tyrion had always tried to understand Link’s pain, just like Gerion. Tyrion, like Link, had trouble sleeping. Link could always recall Tyrion being awake as dawn broke, reading from one dusty tome or another.

 

As Link walked out of the grand oak door of his chambers, Lann shook his head with an exasperated smile. “Finally awake I see, I thought I might have had to tip a flagon of water over you to awaken you from your slumber milord.” Lann said, his pale green eyes shining with amusement. 

 

Link huffed and walked on through the halls of Maegor’s, Lann his ever present shadow, wringing his hands as he went. This must be the only time I've ever been excited for a session of court. Link thought as he and Lann walked over the dry moat and into the Red Keep proper. The halls were as busy as they always were, with servants rushing from one place to another and a wafting aroma of freshly baked bread coming from the kitchens which made his stomach growl loudly.

 

The oak and bronze doors of the Great hall were open with swarms of nobles scheming and flattering each other, all cast under the shadow of the hulking beast of blades, the Iron Throne. King Robert sat the throne with his hand and queen to the side of it, the King was holding petitions from nobles and smallfolk alike, listening and dispensing justice as he saw fit in turn. Din dammit I missed him. Link thought as he looked around the Great Hall, hoping to spot his brother, to no avail. It seemed that Tyrion had gone straight to his chambers after his long journey.

 

“It seems that nothing has changed. You’re still as much a heavy sleeper as you always were, sweet brother.” A dry humorous voice said from behind him. Link snapped his head around and there, to his joy, Tyrion stood. He looked the same as he did all those moons ago, with his mismatched eyes, jutting forehead and pale blonde and black hair.

 

"Tyrion!" Link cried out with a laugh as he knelt to hug his older brother. It had been so long since he had seen his brother, nearly as long as it had been since he had seen his uncle Gerion.

 

"It has been too long brother, the Rock has been quite empty without you." Tyrion said with a fond smirk. "Come Link, walk with me through the gardens. It has been so long since I have witnessed their beauty."

 

"How was your journey?" Link asked, he remembered the journey through the Westerlands to King’s Landing. Of the rolling plains and high hills, the rushing rivers and tall trees. His home was a beautiful land, Link would freely admit, even if it would never beat Kokiri Forest. Even then, as he walked through the hallways of the Red Keep he could still hear the rustle of trees and the sound of Saria's ocarina playing. Link could still picture her in his mind, ever so lovely and kind to him no matter what he had done. He had come to King’s Landing with a hope that Cersei would care for him like Saria had, like a true sister. Instead, she had turned that hope to ash in his mouth.

 

"It wasn't so bad, if terribly sore and dreadfully boring without any whores to entertain me. All the whores of Lannisport cried my name when I left them, for who would pay them when I am gone?" Tyrion said with faux sadness. Link only shook his head and laughed in response. They stood alone in the gardens as far as he could tell, save for the bees buzzing around a patch of flowers that Tyrion was paying particular attention to.

 

"Our mother loved these flowers," Tyrion said with true sadness this time, brows furrowed in concentration as he plucked the blue flower from the soil. "She would spend weeks growing and nurturing them, they're called winter roses. She would have them imported from the North just to grow them in the Rock's Godswood. They're long wilted now though." Tyrion’s admission made Link flush with guilt and stomach sink.

 

"Tyrion, may I ask you a question, about mother I mean?" Link asked with trepidation, Tyrion would tell him the truth, he would never lie to him. Tyrion looked up from the blue petals of the winter rose to him, his mismatched green and black eyes searching for an answer to some great mystery on his face.

 

Tyrion heaved a great tired sigh and said, "I will, just not now, I fear I'm not nearly drunk enough for it. There is to be a feast tonight, meet me on the balcony of my solar and I will tell you what you wish to know. Now, enough of this dour talk sweet brother, tell me of your squiring to the King!"

_______

 

Link and Tyrion talked for hours in the gardens, until it was time for the brothers to get ready for the feast that was to be held in celebration of Tyrion’s arrival. The maids scrubbed Link until he was a bright pink and smelling faintly of winter roses. He dressed in brown breeches and a red silk tunic embroidered with the golden roaring lion of house Lannister over his right breast.

 

Link dismissed Lann from guarding him during the feast, allowing him to enjoy the night, reasoning that if he were not safe when he was in the presence of the Kingsguard he would never be safe.

 

Smoke wafted through the Great Hall from the many great fireplaces and candles positioned throughout the hall. He sat between Tyrion and Lord Petyr Baelish, the master of coin on the high table. King Robert’s laugh was as booming as it ever was, with wine sloshing everywhere from his cup. Link pitied whoever was serving the King his wine that night, Robert had given him the day off to spend with his brother. The King was a generous, charismatic man even when he was deep in his cups.

 

Tyrion wasn't much better, he drank cup after cup of arbour gold like a man who was dying of thirst. He wasn't lying when he told Link that he would be drunk for their meeting.

 

"It seems that in all of your time in King's Landing, I haven't had the pleasure of holding a conversation with you young Link." Lord Petyr Baelish said, his minty breath washing over Link’s face as he turned to meet the man.

 

"I'm sure you are very busy as master of coin  Lord Petyr." Link said with deference, slayer of monsters he may be but a politician was something he would never excel as.

 

"I have heard many tales about you, my Lord. From being a prodigy with the blade to rival your brother, Ser Jaime. Though one rumour that I have wondered the answer to is, if you are able to play the high harp?" The man asked with a sly smirk that did not quite reach his eyes. Peter Baelish was a small man with grey green eyes that had a quality akin to the film of grease that covered the bowls of brown that Val loved so much.

 

"I would say I'm able to play a song or two on the harp, yes Lord Petyr." Link said as he squirmed under the man's slimy gaze. He felt as if he were being made to dance to the Vale Lord’s words, like a puppet from one the shows that he watched with Val occasionally. He was drowning in this game of words and false smiles. This man is dangerous.

 

Petyr Baelish laughed, "I have heard otherwise, your septa tells me that you play it as if you were born to hold it in your hands. I think a demonstration is in order to prove your teacher right." The small man then left his chair and made his way to the King’s dias, where he bent over to whisper in Robert’s ear. The drunk King had a varied reaction to the Vale Lord’s words, first his stormy eyes darkened with malice and his face flushed bright red with anger, before mellowing into a more curious if still grumpy expression.

 

Petyr Baelish beckoned him from his seat, to the middle of the hall where a single stool sat, with the old harp he had found resting on top of it. "My Lords and Ladies, your grace. I present to you all a new bard, Lord Link Lannister!" There was a smattering of applause and a chorus of laughs in response to Baelish's words, his sister being one of them with a proud grin on her face. This is her scheme. She means to shame and embarrass me. I shall prove her wrong.

 

"My Lords and Ladies, I mean to play to you tonight a song never before heard in the Seven Kingdoms! I present to you; the Song of Time!" He said with a confidence he did not truly feel. If Cersei meant to shame him she would have to try harder than this. A hush fell over the hall as he strummed the harp in his lap, notes rising and falling to create the haunting echoes of a time long past, of lost friends and enemies, of a land that he would never see again.

 

Once he had strummed the last note on the old harp, the hall broke out in applause, with many a noble Lady weeping. Strangely, Cersei only looked more pleased. It was only when he turned to the King that he saw why. Robert had a peculiar look in his eye and was as white as a sheet, like he had just seen a ghost. Rhaegar Targaryen played the harp. I followed Cersei’s scheme like a damned fool.

 

The King stood from his chair and the hall fell into silence once more. Link steeled his nerves, waiting for the humiliation to come. But, instead, Robert Baratheon only raised his hands and clapped a slow clap, before leaving the hall out of the side exit, Ser Barristan and Jaime following behind him.

 

It was only after Robert left that Link noticed Tyrion had left. I guess that's my queue to leave.

_______

 

When he entered Tyrion’s temporary chambers, he saw Tyrion lounging on a chair on the balcony. The breeze hit his face as he stepped out onto the balcony. It was a cool night and the sea breeze helped mask the terrible stench of King’s Landing. "Take a seat brother," Tyrion slurred. Link shivered, and not because of the cold. Link did as bid and sat in the plush chair across from his elder brother. "So sweet brother, what would you like to know?" Tyrion asked. A torch was lit behind Tyrion, casting his face in darkness. His brother's dark eyes glinted as the moon light shone on them, giving him a sinister appearance.

 

Never one to beat around the bush, Link barrelled in head first. "Would our mother have loved me?" Link asked with a tremor in his voice, for one of the first times in a long time he was afraid.

 

Tyrion snorted and then proceeded to laugh. He laughed a long and terrible laugh and it only unsettled him more. He is drunk. Drink changes every man and not for the better. But no one is perfect, I am in no position to judge Tyrion, not when my failure caused the death of a kingdom.

 

"Of course she would have loved you Link, why wouldn't she?" Tyrion said, his smirk sharp and dangerous. Even though Tyrion had said the same as Jaime had, he couldn't get his heart to stop racing. Tyrion wasn't telling him everything. Link shivered once more. "After all, you are the perfect son. Brilliant with the blade, kind and handsome. Seven hells, you play the harp better than any bard I have ever heard!" Tyrion exclaimed. There was a queer look in his eye as he said it, a look that he had only seen in one other man, their father.

 

"No, our mother would have adored you, Link, like she did Jaime and Cersei. The only way our mother would have hated you, is if you looked like me." Tyrion said with a self deprecating laugh. Link flinched back in shock and gripped the lion shaped armrests of the chair in alarm. Tyrion chuckled darkly. "Don't look so alarmed sweet brother, wasn't it obvious that our father wouldn't love any ordinary woman. No matter what the singers say, Joanna Lannister wasn't the Mother in human form, she was a monster. Just like our father." His brother said, his words cutting Link deeper than any blade could.

 

"But uncle Gerion said-"

 

"People lie brother and Gerion is dead, Link. Our uncle should have never gone to Old Valyria." Tyrion interrupted with a cold finality. Gerion, dead. That was impossible. Link felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he would fall into an abyss of rage and grief. How dare he say such things! Link’s anger burned hotter than wildfire, his hands were clenched so hard around the lion armrests that the fine polished wood snapped. Link's reaction seemed to sober Tyrion some from his morose drunkenness.

 

"I'm sorry Link, but it's true. Our father sent out men to try and find Gerion but they returned empty handed. He is gone, but his words are not. He comforted me as he did you with his stories and games, but he lied. As much as our sister Cersei likes to spout that she is our father with teats, it was our mother that was truly our father's equal. I know that mother would have done the same to Tysha as our father did." Tyrion said as he climbed out of his chair and turned to leave, not before hugging Link. 

 

"Who is Tysha?" Link asked, his voice as hollow as his heart.

 

"A whore." Tyrion said harshly before leaving Link to his thoughts. Link sat in the broken chair for what seemed like hours and cried. Cried for the loss of his uncle and for the suffering of his beloved brother. Cried for the lies of the people he loved and cried for a whore.

 

I will find you uncle! I'll do it if it's the last thing I do.

 

End of Part I

 

Hello everyone! It's been a while I know, but I have been extremely busy. Before the summer, I was cast as a lead role in a play and I've been rehearsing and practising that over the past few months but now it's over, I enjoyed it but I can now get back to writing again.

 

I have rewritten this chapter quite a few times, it's an important chapter that allows Link to grow as a person and realise that Westeros is not like Hyrule. And Part 1 is over, finally. I've always imagined part 1 as just a big prologue to the story so good thing it's over, now we can get on to the exciting stuff.

 

Please review and tell me if you enjoyed it, if you didn't why. I'm always open for constructive criticism that helps me grow as a writer! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

 

Wind and rain whipped against Link's face like shards of myrish glass as he fell, screaming from the heavens.

 

"Fly or die Time Walker! Fly or die!" The three eyed crow croaked as it followed him through dark jagged clouds and bright flashes of lightning. Link continued plummeting to the ground despite whatever nonsense the crow was saying. Even in his past life he was never adept enough with magic to fly, the only person he had known to be capable of that was Ganondorf. "Believe! Believe, boy and you will fly." The crow cawed as the ground came closer and closer. Link shut his eyes and prayed to Farore for courage. Believe, Believe, believe , Link repeated to himself, like a mantra until, suddenly the wind and rain stopped lashing against his face.

 

He opened his eyes and found himself no longer in the air but standing in a ruined city with tall towers that reminded Link of fingers reaching up to touch the sky and crumbling roads made from fused black stone. Rivers of liquid fire flowed through the abandoned city, not unlike the pools once found in Death Mountain in his previous life. Above all loomed fourteen mountains with great plummets of ash and fire coming from their peaks, each as tall as the Rock. The fourteen flames! I'm in Valyria.  

 

A foul smog hung in the air, dark like ash and foul to breathe, making him sputter and cough. Hanging on the crumbling towers and littering the ground were the skeletal remains of great creatures, with bones as black as pitch. Dragons. Each dragon was as big if not bigger than the remains of Balerion in the Red Keep, their dark empty eye sockets seemed to follow him as he walked along the graveyard of the Dragonlords. Gerion is here, somewhere . Link steeled his nerves and delved deeper into the dead citadel, hoping to find any sign of life, any sign of his uncle.

 

In the centre of the once magnificent place was a great big domed structure, reminiscent of the ruined dragon pit in King's Landing, though much bigger. Doors, thrice the size of the entrance to the Great Hall in the Red Keep stood before him. Made of oak that should have long since rotted and banded with a smoky rippled metal inscribed with runes. Valyrian steel. Link approached the door and summoned all of his strength to push the door open.

 

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Link. It is not wise to disturb the dead." An old and wizened voice spoke. Link whipped around to face the threat to see nothing but the desolate street behind him. Strange, my mind must be playing tricks on me. Valyria has been said to drive men mad long before they reach it. Like the rustle of the dead weirwood in Casterly Rock on a windy day the voice whispered in his ear once more. "I assure you, Hero of Time, I am not merely a figment of your imagination. I advise you not to dwell here, it is a cursed foul place able to corrupt even the greatest of men." Link ignored the voice and pushed the doors open as if they weighed no more than a feather. It seemed that some magic still remained in Valyria. As Link stepped over the threshold of the once majestic structure his vision closed into an inky darkness, like a veil of night being placed over his eyes. I probably should have listened to the voice.

 

A jolly lion appeared before Link, young and proud, treading through shallow water. A huge slimy tentacle shot out of the water with a loud splash, covered in slime and dark suckers. Before the jolly lion could even react, the huge tentacle wrapped around the lion and squeezed, causing the creature's bones to break with a loud crack. The lion screamed in pain as the tentacle pulled the gravely injured lion beneath the inky depths.

 

The image changed to a lion, dire wolf, crowned stag and a pale, young stag with a lion's mane brawling with each other. The stag was wrapped up in vines that shot out of the ground as the young foal bites into its flesh. The young wolf battles the old grizzly lion, swiping its claws at the lion, injuring it before being stabbed in the throat by the young stag's antlers.

 

Before Link could even blink his vision swam and he found himself no longer in the dead city of the freehold but a place bustling with life. As fresh, clean air filled his lungs and he looked around at the cobbled streets and rows of houses, Link thought himself in King's Landing, but the putrid combination of shit and fish did not assault his nose. Link looked around him once more, hoping for a sign to see where he was. A chill hung in the air and the people who passed him wore heavy fur cloaks with panic and worry writ all over their faces. I must be in White Harbour, but why would the people be so worried?

 

Link looked up to see snow falling from the sky and out of the corner of his eye a colossal structure rested. It must have been the tallest man made structure he had ever seen, not as tall as the Rock but still impressive nevertheless. The tower was huge, likely on par with the Wall in terms of height with a huge flame burning at its peak. That's the Hightower. I'm in Oldtown. That's impossible, winter seems to be nearly upon this place. The only way for snow to be falling would be if he was in the past. A thought pierced his brain like a needle, if he were in the past why would the people be so worried?

 

No war had threatened the people of Oldtown directly in recent memory, the last being the Dance of the Dragons and he saw no golden dragon banners, or any Targaryen banners at all. He must be in the future. Link blinked again and his vision swam once more as a great bell tolled. He found himself watching over Oldtown from the top of the Hightower itself. In an instant the world went dark as the sun plunged down below the waters of the Sunset Sea, like a candle being snuffed out. A fleet of ships were out on the water, all of them having the Hightower sigil on their sails. The city was silent, as if it were holding its breath waiting for something. A man's laughter ruptured the silence like the shattering of glass. It was a high, inhuman laugh that made cold sweat run down his back and goosebumps prickle over his skin. Oldtown was plunged into an unnatural silence once more as the man finished laughing. A horn blew a long and terrible sound, it chilled his heart and made his hand burn. He looked to see the Triforce burning on his right hand once more. Impossible, how is this happening?

 

The Hightower shook with the blowing of the horn and Link clutched his head in his hands and fell to his knees in the cold snow as a bright light assaulted his eyes. Wait, snow? He thought as he clutched the ground and found to his bewilderment icy wet snow in his hand.

 

Link opened his eyes and found himself peering into two blue stars. Not stars, eyes. He realised as he scrambled back in the snow, face to face with an army of monsters. Pale unearthly beings with blades of pure ice rode giant ice spiders, the size of hounds. He saw thousands of corpses, all of them with bright blue stars for eyes, all of them staring at him. They were led by, to his surprise, an ordinary looking man, if handsome. He was tall and slender, with dark hair, a long face and blue stars for eyes, wearing a bronze crown of swords and a long black cloak hung around his shoulders like a cloak of night. The man was the leader of this army of death, a king of all the dark, the Night's King.

 

The Night's King spoke in a language that Link did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on Lake Hylia and his words were brimming with anger and a righteous fury. They spoke a promise of vengeance and a warning of what's to come.

 

"Winter is coming, Link Lannister." The Night's King spoke, "and you can not stop us. I am the hammer that shatters the shield of men, the darkness that snuffs out the dawn and all shall be under my sway, from this day till the end of days!" The Night's King, quicker than Link though possible, grabbed Link and wrapped his pale hands around Link's throat and squeezed. Link felt his blood freeze in his veins and the breath in his lungs be replaced by the cold of winter. Link struggled against the man, if he could even be called a man, to no avail as his vision darkened. He screamed before all went dark.

 

____

 

Link gasped as he awoke, his sheets soaked in a cold sweat. He shivered, remembering the cold he had felt, like he would never be warm again.

 

Dawn was breaking over Blackwater Bay as he looked from his balcony, a warm breeze blowing over his face and warming his bones. That dream was different. There was only one dream he had that had felt as real as this dream. The nightmare he had before his quest in Hyrule, a prophetic dream that foretold what would happen if he followed Zelda and her plan. God's how naive I was back then. If only I could do it all again. He stared out over the bay, imagining a better Hyrule, where the people were safe and Ganondorf defeated. There's no use torturing myself over impossibilities, I have people to save here. 

 

It had been almost 3 years since Gerion had left Lannisport on the Laughing Lion, and while everyone else had accepted that Gerion had died a watery death or worse in Old Valyria, Link refused to accept it. Tyrion may call him naive and his father could call him a weak willed fool, Link cared naught.

 

Link splashed some water over his face from the basin by the side of his bed and looked into his myrish looking glass. Now, at three and ten name days he had lost most of his baby fat but still looked more like a child than his mature adult body had in his past life. Nevertheless, his stomach was flat and hard as an oaken shield. His arms and legs were sculpted with muscle and he looked more and more the hero he had been in his past life. He could picture himself in his mind's eye, tall and strong with a cocky grin and the impression of being immortal. Even with the body of an adult, I was more a child then in my innocence than I am now.

 

In Hyrule, Link slew any beast that he came across, from the great dragon Volvagia, to the demon of Kakariko, Bongo Bongo, he had been unstoppable. Until Gannondorf. Link rubbed his eyes wearily and sat down at his desk, gathering his quill and parchment once he sat in his oak chair. It was a simple desk all things considered, carved from the oak trees found in the Kingswood. He dipped his gilded gold quill, a gift from Lord Crakehall for his three and tenth nameday, into the ink pot and began to write. 

 

Some parts of the dream were easier to decipher than others. The lion, stag and dire wolf battling could mean a war between the great houses but then what would the stag with a lion's mane represent? Link did not know. Link only knew of one creature that would be strong enough to kill a lion as if it were nothing with long tentacles, a kraken. Creatures of the deep, many scoffed at the tales of the sailors who were said to have escaped them but Link was not so cynical. What house has a kraken for a sigil? The Greyjoys! 

 

Link twirled the quill in his hands with worry. There would be a war between the great houses of Westeros. Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, Greyjoy and Tyrell. What of the Arryns and Martells? The Tully's would presumably side with House Stark and possibly so would the Vale. All three share blood alliances through the Tully sisters. The possible war became clearer in his head as he laid out the battle lines. Stark, Tully, Baratheon and Arryn against Lannister and Tyrell.  But what of the others? The Martells would likely stay neutral due to the deaths of Princess Elia and her children but the Greyjoys, what would they do? The dream showed me a kraken killing a lion, the Greyjoys defeating my family maybe? Again he did not know. 

 

Oldtown could be threatened. That meant that Dorne could play a part in the war if they invaded from the south, through the Red Mountains. But why? Link asked himself, a pain blooming behind his eyes as questions swam in his head. How could a war of this magnitude break out, the realm is at peace with a stable alliance in place. "There's too many bloody questions that I don't know the answer to!" Link shouted as he slammed the quill on the desk, causing it to creak slightly.

 

Link shivered as he thought of the King with the blue eyes that shone like stars. There was only one thing that the man could have been, an Other. Not just any White Walker, but the Night's King. Link remembered the story that his uncle Gerion had told him as a child, of the Lord Commander who had declared himself King of the Wall and took an Other as his bride. "Some say that the Lord Commander was a Stark." Gerion had whispered to him in a low mischievous voice, "that when Brandon the Breaker came to kill the Night's King he found his brother instead." Link shook his head, there was no time to be losing himself in the haze of memories.

 

"This is just brilliant, there could be a war in the future with everyone at their own throats for no apparent reason and on top of that the White Walkers could invade as well. Fantastic." Link said to himself sarcastically. We are doomed.

 

Link’s dark musings were interrupted with a knock on his door. "My Lord, are you alright?" A maid, who was called Barbara if he could recall correctly, called out. Link shot out of his chair and registered that yes dawn had broken and that he needed to get ready to serve King Robert. 

 

"I'm quite alright thank you Lady Barbara." Link said as he hurriedly threw on his clothes and only heard a faint giggle in response. It would be a long day.

 

____

 

Link sighed in relief as King Robert relieved him of his duties to practise in the training grounds. Robert had been in no mood to discuss the affairs of the realm with him or any other that day, his only concern being the whores and wine that he would drown his sorrows in. His discomfort must have been apparent on his face as he polished the King’s warhammer, which he hadn't used in years, and served the King his wine. Robert had laughed and dismissed him to the yard to practice.

 

He walked through the Red Keep to the training grounds at a slow pace, with his Qohorik forged bastard sword at his hip and Lann his ever present red shadow. The other squires, like the new Master of Laws, Renly Baratheon's squire Lords Tyrell, tried to tease Link about having a sworn shield, calling him names like ‘Link the craven’ for having a guard but his skill at arms had quickly silenced them.

 

The training grounds were as crowded as ever, with knights and noble sons from all over the Seven Kingdoms training. In the centre of the grounds, a crowd had formed with many a noble Lady looking on with desire and longing. Link grabbed a practice sword from the rack before pushing through the bystanders to the front of the crowd as they passed bets and discussed gossip. In the centre of the ring of spectators, Loras Tyrell and Link’s cousin, Tyrek sparred. Tyrek had arrived at King's Landing just after Link’s second and tenth nameday where he too began squiring for the King. Tyrek and Link had fallen into a companionship of sorts in King’s Landing, they were, dare he say it, friends. Tyrek was a kind and charming boy who was good with a sword in hand and better on horseback. Tyrek is skilled, but against Loras he will fail. Link thought with no little guilt and remorse.

 

He winced as the Tyrell squire feinted and disarmed his cousin before kicking him down and forcing him to yield. Loras was older than Tyrek and laughed at his cousin as he struggled to rise from the dirt. Link clenched his jaw and glared. Just a green boy hungry for glory who thinks himself untouchable. Just as I did. The rowdy group of squires fell into a sullen silence as he stepped forwards from the crowd. “Care for a bout Loras?” Link asked with a friendly grin. Loras faltered, unsure before puffing out his chest as a cocky certainty leaked into his golden brown eyes.

 

“Wishing to join your cousin in defeat, are you Lannister?” Loras asked him with a raised brow, his practice sword leaning against his shoulder. He is only a boy, but one one who is yet to learn humility. I will correct this. Link only smiled and readied himself into a defensive stance. “As you wish then, Link Lannister,” the Tyrell boy said with a laugh as he launched himself at Link with a swing to his head. He blocked Loras’ blade with his own, pushing the other boy backwards with a shove.

 

They circled each other once more and Link focused, he would not lose. The loud cheers and chatter of the crowd washed away like sandcastles on Blackwater Bay. All that mattered was Loras and him. Loras swung his blade at Link’s side, but he was too slow. Every swing and slash that Loras tried, Link would bob and weave around them. At that point Loras was red in the face and gripping the pommel of his practice blade so tight that his knuckles whitened in frustration, he wanted to end the fight. Perfect.  

 

Link lowered his blade and hastened his breathing, making it more laboured as if he had just run laps around the entire city rather than avoiding Loras Tyrell’s blade. Loras grinned and ran forward and it was then that Link knew he had caught him, the trap had been sprung and Loras had run headlong into it. Loras feinted right and stabbed his blade towards Link's throat. Quick as a whip, Link snapped his blade up and slapped Loras’ out of the way before kicking him in the chest, making Loras stumble to the floor with a startled cry. Link brought his practice blade to his fallen opponent’s throat. “Yield.” Link said, Loras glared at him but nodded in resignation all the same, accepting Link’s hand up for help. “It was a good match, Loras, you show great skill with the blade. Just don’t let your emotions cloud your judgement.” Link said with a friendly smile. Loras nodded with a sigh.

 

“You sound like my brother Garlan, always chiding me after a mistake. It was a good match Lannister, but how about another? I know I’ll get you this time!” Loras said with a good natured laugh, his brown curls bouncing around his shoulders as he did. Link only grinned as he readied himself into a fighting stance again. Ominous dreams of doom forgotten, even if only for a moment.

 

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Chapter Text

Chapter 13

 

Link sighed in boredom as he stared out of the high narrow windows of the Great hall, watching as the light of the sun reflected off of the stained glass. He glanced around the hall, noting that it was busier than usual and that Robert looked as interested in today’s proceedings at court as Link felt, slouched as he was whilst he sat the Iron Throne. One noble was accusing another of stealing a mill that had been under his lands whilst the other refuted this with an equally loud argument. He could have wept with joy when Robert finally stood from his throne to dismiss the two squabbling Lords, his looming height made larger by the towering monster that was the throne. The only reason that Link had stayed so long at court, and that it was so busy, was because the King had an announcement to make. Another tourney no doubt.

“My Lords and Ladies, it has been ten years since I killed that bastard Rhaegar Targaryen and destroyed the mad dragons. It is with great pleasure that I announce a tourney to be held by the end of this moon, in celebration of my coronation and the Mad King’s death!” Robert said to great applause and a few grumbles to those who still held the Targaryens in high regard. 

“Gods damn him!” Tyrek swore from behind him as Loras laughed and Link shook his head.

“Pay up Tyrek, you should have known not to bet on a hunt.” Loras said, his golden brown eyes sparkling in delight as Tyrek grumbled and handed over a gold dragon. “The King is extravagance personified, why dear Tyrek, would he sacrifice a grand tourney for a hunt?” Loras asked with a smug smirk, his brown curls bobbing around him as he did, Tyrek only glared in response. Link knew that Loras was only half right, the King would no doubt go on a hunt right after this tourney. As the two squires argued, Robert rose from his throne again and walked down the uneven steps of the Iron Throne, leaving the Great hall followed by two of the Kingsguard. That's our queue to leave, thank Nayru. Link said his goodbyes to Loras and left with Tyrek at his side to attend to the King.

To Link’s surprise they followed Robert to the small council chambers, where he sat at the head of the long ironwood table, his hand, Jon Arryn to his right. Grand Maester Pycelle was the last to shuffle in the room and take his seat. If the other members of the small council were shocked at Robert’s arrival they didn’t show it. In all the time that Link had been his squire, Link could only recall being present for three small council meetings with the King. Once when there had been a sighting of the Beggar King, Viserys Targaryen and his sister Daenerys in Volantis with the Golden Company. The King had been wroth when Varys told him, he had crushed his goblet in his fist with before throwing it against the wall with a great bellow of rage. Link had resolved to not play his harp within Robert's hearing that day, less the King’s wrath fell upon him too.

The other two times, like this one, had been concerning either a tourney or a grand feast. “Right you shits! Let’s get this copper counting over and done with.” Robert said as he scratched his beard, which hid the jowls of fat under his chin, whilst he and Tyrek filled the cups of the Lords with arbour gold.

“Your grace,” Lord Arryn started, his silver brow furrowed and his voice laced with resignation, “how big do you want this tourney to be?” Robert pondered on the question for a while, thumbing his beard lined jaw all the while, before a light entered his dark stormy blue eyes.

“It will be the best tourney this damned kingdom has ever seen. More extravagant than the one at Harrenhal. 50,000 gold for the winner of the joust and 20,000 for the winners of both the melee and the archery contest.” Robert said as he slurped on his wine. Lord Arryn’s face crumpled once he heard the winner’s purse.

“Your grace, I am afraid that this is an extravagance that the realm can not afford. We are already one million dragons in debt to the Iron Bank-” Lord Arryn said with a severe look to his already weary face before Lord Baelish interrupted him.

“One and a half million dragons my Lord Hand.” Baelish said with an apologetic smile that never reached his sickly green eyes. Lord Arryn only sent a clipped nod in return.

“Bah, borrow it from Tywin Lannister then. The God’s only know that it will be payment for all the Lannisters that he has put in my court.” Robert said flippantly. The slight washed over Link like water rain did to a mountain. Tyrek on the other hand, was not so resistant to the King’s jibe. Tyrek’s face flushed with colour and his jaw clenched at the insult. Lord Arryn’s eyes looked to Tyrek and Link then, a silent apology. Father gained Robert’s favour through the death of women and children, he deserves worse than a mere insult.

Everyone knew the story of the Sack of King’s Landing, of the murder of Elia Martell and her babes by the Mountain and Ser Amory Lorch. His father had presented their mangled corpses to Robert as an act of loyalty, and from that bloody deed his father was awarded with a queen. Not only would this tourney celebrate ten years since Robert’s coronation, but the murder of Princess Elia and her Targaryen children. This tourney is built on the bones of the innocent.

“I will send the raven at once, your grace.” Pycelle said, looking half asleep with the way his eyes drooped and his body slouched. In the same message the Grand Maester would also no doubt relay all that was discussed in today’s meeting, including the King’s slight.

“Your grace, my little birds sing a disquieting song from the Kingswood of late.” Varys said in a soft voice, with his powdered cheek resting against his palm. Robert only grunted and shot the spymaster a dark look, as if to say get on with it. “There are rumours of a new Kingswood brotherhood gathering. So far there hasn’t been much trouble from them, other than robbing a few of the wealthier lesser Lords and landed knights.” An oppressive silence hung in the chamber after Varys finished speaking, shock etched on each of their faces, even Lord Baelish’s smirk was gone, replaced with a considering frown.

Link watched Jaime carefully as he stood guarding the door along with Boros Blount. Jaime had stiffened and paled to the colour of milk, the arrogant gleam that had seemed permanent was gone from his feline eyes. Tyrion had often told Link the tale of Jaime’s clash with the Smiling Knight and Simon Toyne alongside Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan the Bold. 

“Lord Renly, ride out with one hundred gold cloaks and twenty of my household guards to bring these bandits to justice, if you are in agreement.” Lord Aryn said, breaking through the silence. The Hand’s plan was a sound one, but the Lord of the Stormlands was young and untested, a greenboy, he prayed that it would work, it would give Loras a chance to prove himself. If he distinguishes himself, he mayhaps be knighted. The youngest since Daemon Blackfyre.  

Lord Renly bolted up from his previously slouched position with a grin as Lord Stannis sighed with contempt. “It would be an honour, Lord Hand.”

“I recommend you set out at once Lord Renly, with the coming tourney it would be a perfect time for them to strike.” Renly bobbed his head with a grin in response and bowed to the King before taking his leave. As he left Robert rose, goblet of sour red in hand before taking his leave as well, muttering about ‘counting coppers’ as Link and Tyrek hurried to chase after him.

 

_________________

 

As twilight descended upon King’s Landing, Link bid goodnight to Lann and set out to Flea Bottom in a roughspun tunic and worn breeches in search of Val. In the few years since he had met her in the alleys of Flea Bottom, Val had only grown more beautiful. She was a year his elder and would have turned heads in many a noble court, never mind Flea Bottom. 

As he ran and jumped across the many rooftops along the Street of Sisters, the crumbling dragon pit looming atop of Rhaenys’ hill, he could almost imagine that he was back home in Kokiri forest with Saria, climbing and laughing as he chased her throughout the treetops of the Lost Woods.

Once he reached Flea Bottom, he climbed down from the rooftops, careful not to fall through any of the less sturdier buildings that comprised Flea Bottom. He walked along the muddy paths the rest of the way to the orphanage, his face breaking into a grin once it came into sight. The orphanage had come a long way after he had started helping Septa Jeyne with the costs. No longer was it crumbling or rotting, it stood tall among the poorly made hovels of Flea Bottom. Val hadn’t been happy once she learned that he had given the orphanage his patronage, believing that they were bleeding him dry. Once he had told her who his father was, however, she didn’t complain about his gold.

“Tywin Lannister is your father!” She snapped, her lilac eyes burning with rage. “He sacked the city! His men- they hurt Jeyne.” Link’s eyes widened as Val slumped, the fight leaving her as she leaned her head against his shoulder, looking out over the city from the roof they occupied. Disgust and horror welled within him, alongside an emotion he had not felt since his death. Hate.

“Val, what happened to Jeyne was an evil act. My father is a terrible man and I hate him for what he has done to the innocents of this kingdom. He has built his precious legacy upon the suffering of others, and that will not stand! I promise you this Val; I will right the wrongs that my father has committed upon the people of this land. I will not stop, I will not rest until there is peace, true peace within Westeros. I will save it from the corruption and evil of men like my father!” Link exclaimed, a steely resolve filling his heart as he stared at the brilliant stars in the night sky.

Val looked at him, an emotion that he could not describe burning in her beautiful pale lilac as she nodded at him, solidifying his vow.

Link cleared his head of memories as he stared at the orphanage and more importantly, the striking young woman sitting on its roof, waiting for him. A curtain of silver framed her pale face, the moonlight only added to her hair’s radiance. High, sharp cheekbones gave her an air of nobility and her plump pink lips were stretched into a worried frown as she waited for him. Val wore a simple brown dress that clung to her lithe figure like a second skin. It was her eyes that took Link’s breath away, a haunting lilac that even the most beautiful maiden would die for. I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair. Link shook the melody away with a smile, he had sung it to his sweet niece Myrcella when he had visited her last.

Val scowled when she noticed him. “What took you so long!” She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting. Link grinned and ruefully shook his head as he climbed up the building to sit with her.

“The King suggested to Ser Aron that I spar against Ser Boros, when I beat him in every bout he was not best pleased.” To say that Boros had not been pleased when Link had thrashed him three times in a row was like saying that Casterly Rock was a big castle, whilst not incorrect it was an understatement. Ser Boros had demanded that he run laps around the walls of the Keep. The bastard had made him run for hours.

Link would visit Val once every week, and when he did they would sit out and watch the stars together. Sometimes they spoke of their worries, other times they would just lay together in silence, each drawing strength from the other’s presence. On an odd occasion Link may even bring his harp along and play a song from Hyrule from her. Either way, it was a night where Link could be himself. With Val he wasn’t brother to the Queen or heir to Casterly Rock, he was just Link.

His humorous mood vanished like water in the deserts of Dorne as he sat beside Val and saw the dried tear tracks running down her pale face.

“What happened Val?” Link asked softly. Tears welled in her eyes, and like a damn bursting open, she broke down into sobs, launching herself into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and let her cry, rubbing soothing circles along her back with his hand and humming a song he thought he would never play again, Zelda’s lullaby .

Once she had no tears left to cry, she rose her head and looked up at him with red rimmed eyes. “There was a boy, a child, he was friends with some of the younger children in the orphanage. He would always blabber about how he would be the best knight in Westeros. He went out and swore to the others that when he returned he would be a squire to a knight. I was,” Val stopped herself and gulped, trembling still as more tears shone in her lilac eyes, “curious. I wanted to see if he would succeed. He went down to the tourney grounds outside the city and he-” Val broke down once more, her face red and blotchy from crying. Link cupped her cheek and wiped away her tears.

“Val, I know this hurts, but I need to know what happened so I can help.” he said reassuringly. It hurt to see her like this, the defiant girl that he knew so distraught. It had been two weeks since the King had announced the tourney and the grounds were already packed.

“There was a knight, he was huge, the biggest man I've ever seen and Olyvar asked him to be his squire. At first the knight ignored him but Olyvar kept asking, begging. When I thought to step in and bring him back, the knight grabbed Olyvar’s arm so hard that it crunched. Gods Link his scream, I’ll never forget his scream.”  Val said, her voice getting duller and more sombre as the tale went on. A giant knight that would hurt a child so severely that the boy would shriek in pain. Link had only heard of one man like that. The Mountain .

“When I heard him scream I froze. I was so scared Link, I didn’t know what to do. The knight didn't stop, he pushed Olyvar to the ground and stomped on his head. Olyvar’s head crumpled-” Val said before Link shushed her gently and pulled her into his arms once more as she cried into his chest. As he comforted Val, Link felt the anger that he kept chained within him throughout Val’s story bubble over in his chest. Wrath thrummed in his veins as one singular thought consumed him. Justice.

“I wish that I was a queen like your sister Link.” Val said, her voice muffled by his roughspun tunic. Link laughed darkly.

“Trust me, Val. My sister is many things. Someone to aspire to is not one of them.” he said, before wincing as Val punched him. That hurt .

“Shut up stupid. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. If I were queen, then I would build a great castle or manse for all the orphans of King’s Landing. A place where boys and girls like Olyvar would be safe to dream.” Val said, some of her usual passion and defiance seeping into her tone. Link grinned. I would have tried to do the archery contest anyway.

“Then, your grace, I will make you Queen.” Link whispered. He would bring the false knight, Ser Gregor Clegane to justice, for the murder of Princess Elia, of her children Rhaenys and Aegon, and of the boy Olyvar who had dreamed of knighthood.

Link gave Val one last gentle squeeze before disentangling from her. “Look for the Knight of Time at the tourney, Queen Val, and all will be well. The hour of ghosts is upon us and I must be off.” He said, giving her one last hug before waving and climbing down the orphanage and heading to the direction of the Red Keep, leaving Val stunned behind him.

“What do you mean you’ll make me Queen?” She called angrily after him, frustration lacing her words.

“On the day of the joust, be at the front of the crowds, I’ll do the rest.” He said with a rogue grin before running off into the city. His confidence evaporated when he realised who else would be in the joust. Mayhaps I won’t make you Queen Val, after all Jaime and Ser Barristan will be taking part . Link shrugged and knew that even if it was the Warrior himself in his way, he would still fight on, for Val’s dream and for the dream of a better Westeros.

 

Merry Christmas and have a Happy New Year Everyone!

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Chapter Text

Chapter 14:

 

Most nights, the phantoms of his failures visited him, forcing him to relive his final fight against the King of Evil. On some especially dark nights, he dreamt of the terrible fate to come, of a never ending wave of darkness, the cackle of a madman and bright blue eyes.

That night, Link danced.

First he danced with a maid of summer, with flowers in her hair. The gentle breeze carried her laughter as her eyes of fire sparkled with delight. The calming gush of the Blackwater Rush rang in his ears as they danced, the maid’s silhouette forming different images under the hot summer’s sun.

A stalwart mountain range brought low by an armoured man shrouded in mystery and a knight of love and death exacting his vengeance against a lion. A ruined peninsula swarmed with beasts from the seven hells, a crumbling tower, and on and on they went, the images coming and going like the ever present waxing and waning of the moon.

High above, in the clouds, the three eyed crow watched, regret glinting in his eyes.

Then Link danced with a maid of autumn with sadness in the air. In her breathtakingly blue eyes, echoes of tragedy flickered like a flame. The just slain dishonourably, a feasting hall swallowed in a tide of blood and above all else, the Lion of Lannister roared in triumph.

As they danced among a field of ash, beasts watched the maiden with hunger and desire alight in their eyes. At her feet, a mockingbird sang, lust and satisfaction brimming from every note. A black porcupine and a hanged man made to reach for the maiden, but a scarred dog barked them off. A golden stag watched from afar, its eyes of wildfire glaring balefully at the maid. The three eyed crow watched with determination from a dead weirwood tree, its trunk blackened from fire.

In the ruin of a great hall, Link danced with death. Her eyes were deep pools of blue grey, like that of a frozen lake or the frost he had seen in winter with Gerion as a boy. A pleasant fog shrouded his mind at the sight of her. She was tall and ethereal, her long bone white hair framed a face so beautiful it made him weep tears of ice. 

The maid of death evaluated him with her soft eyes of frost. At the end of the ruined hall, on a high table, shades of the dead sat. One had the head of a wolf with a bronze crown, another had hair like spun gold and a face the colour of puce, a crown of crusted gold adorned with rubies and black diamonds sat askew on the boy’s brow. On and on the row of the dead went, each and every one of them Kings.

Whilst the other Kings’ attention was on the ethereal woman, one man’s gaze regarded him only. He lazed on his throne of skulls as if he were born to, a smirk etched on to his pale, comely face. An eyepatch obscured his left eye, but his right was a pleasant blue, clear like the Sunset Sea on a summer's day. His lips were bruised a pale blue and a dark beard lined his jaw. He wore dark, smoky scaled armour, covered in glyphs and runes. When he saw Link’s gaze, the King grinned.

Above them all, The King sat on a throne of ice. Closely cropped dark brown hair adorned a long handsome face. The King wore the night as his cloak and his bronze crown of swords shone with a lustre that put all the other, lesser Kings to shame. The man’s bright blue eyes were blazing with a hatred of all life that chilled Link to the bone. The three eyed crow cried mournfully at the sight of him. 

Death cradled him in her arms as they gently spun across the hall, her cold skin was smooth and unblemished and slightly blue, as if she had been out in the cold for too long. As the dance ended, she held him tightly to her, soothing him and humming gently in his ear.

“I’m so sorry it had to be this way, my hero .” The woman murmured softly. Her voice, light and lovely, like a soft winter’s gale, sent another wave of awe through him. Link! You must run Link! The crow shouted in his mind. Panic stirred in his chest, why did he feel so cold? 

“None of that now, my love.” The woman chided gently, pulling back to look him in the eye. Her eyes shone like bright blue stars, reflecting a love so cold a violent shiver cascaded down his spine.

Were her eyes always that bright? Link thought as his teeth chattered. Her dainty hands snaked their way up to his face, leaving a faint trail of frost in their wake. Her pale, plump lips stretched into a smile so dazzling that he weeped once more.

Do not worry, my hero. Soon, everything will be over .” She said, her voice echoing loudly throughout the ruined hall, like the crunch of snow underfoot and the cracking of ice. Her voice was oddly familiar, he realised, cold sweat sliding down his back. The woman leaned in towards him, the twin stars resting in her face inching closer. Those eyes.

Their lips met and the cold of winter engulfed him, spreading from his lips, slowly freezing  his blood as it pumped through his body. Clarity and terror hit him like a thunderbolt. An Other! Oh I am a fool, Link thought, struggling against the vice grip the Other had on his face. The Night’s King and his Corpse Queen, Gerion’s voice whispered in his mind.

The Corpse Queen smiled through the kiss as his vision blurred, the cold eroding his strength like the Sunset sea eroded the white cliffs of Lannisport. She released him from the kiss and he collapsed to the snow covered floor, the Corpse Queen following him to the ground and sitting his head in her lap. The King with the blue lips cackled.

So cold, Link thought as the Corpse Queen hummed a sweet lullaby to him and the world went dark.

Link awoke as dawn bled over blackwater bay with tears on his cheeks and bile in his throat. Seven Hells, he thought as he stared at his shaking hands, his sweat drenched hair hanging in front of his eyes. Seven fucking Hells.

__

The horror of Link’s dream lingered at the fringes of his mind as he mechanically went throughout his duties with Tyrek. They broke their fast with warm buttery bread and a few slices of bacon, reminiscing of the time when their Aunt Genna had scolded Gerion like a boy after he had drank too much arbour gold at family dinner.

"He went as red as our house banners!" Tyrek said through gasps of laughter, amusement swimming in his bright green eyes. Link laughed along with him, even as a fierce longing pierced his heart.

They entered the King’s compartments quickly, guarded by a still half asleep Ser Meryn Trant. The King was still abed with two whores, mercifully awake and not busy with them. It was Tyrek’s turn to blush Lannister crimson to the roots of his golden hair.

Tyrek fetched the King some sour red as Link dressed him in a deep black doublet with the golden crowned stag of House Baratheon embroidered on his breast and simple black breeches. 

Link watched as the King wistfully stared down at the tourney grounds from the balcony. "Once I would have joined the melee and smashed any who dared face me, with Ned by my side." King Robert said, more to himself than Link, his fists clenched. "Now, even if I convinced Jon to let me, no knight would ever think of harming me because I'm the bloody King." The King said bitterly.

"What I wouldn't give for a real fight, to kill Rhaegar Targaryen again on the Trident like I do in my dreams. For that I'd give up my bloody Crown!" King Robert exclaimed with a fire in his eyes. Yours is the fury indeed. Link thought.

The King dismissed his whores and his squires when the Hand entered the room. Link only caught the mention of the Master of Laws, Renly Baratheon as the Hand whispered urgently to the King, his face darkening like a thundercloud as he heard the news, before Link and Tyrek were shooed away.

Link said his goodbyes to Tyrek as they arrived in the Red Keep’s training grounds once he caught sight of Jaime. Tyrek grinned and waved Link’s apologies off.

"I'll be happy to have a break from my daily trouncing dear cousin. Mayhaps you should seek out Ser Jaime more often." Tyrek said with a rueful grin, humour alight in his eyes, before walking on to face one of their fellow squires, whistling a popular Dornish song as he went.

Link’s brother grinned at the sight of him. Under the hot beating sun, Jaime looked like the Warrior himself. A sheen of sweat covered his skin as he bested each and every knight who challenged him.

"Link," Jaime called, his ever present arrogant smirk settling into his handsome face. "Care for a bout?" Link nodded, determination rising within him like a wave as Jaime offered him a blunted bastard sword. 

Link fell into an aggressive stance, knowing that the only way to beat Jaime would be to do it quickly. Even after his recent growth spurt, Jaime was a man grown, taller and stronger than Link.

Jaime left Link without time to even blink as he dashed forward with a flurry of blows, each fast and precise that Link side stepped or parried.

Link went on the offensive, needling Jaime’s guard with well armed thrusts and slashes. Needling, but never piercing his brother’s guard.

Their blades met with a clang when Link blocked an overhead strike from Jaime. His brother pushed against his blade, and Link let him, using Jaime’s momentum against him and disengaging. Letting Jaime stumble.

Link pressed the advantage and struck out with his blade but Jaime, quick as a cat, leapt back away from him. Jaime grinned and feinted left, before slashing downwards against Link’s shoulder at the last moment.

Link grunted and stumbled backwards, ignoring the explosion of pain in his shoulder as he brought his blade up to meet his brother’s once more. Jaime grinned as he kicked Link’s legs out from under him, not content to fall for the same trick twice.

Dust and sand blew around him in a cloud as he rolled into a crouch. Jaime evaluated him with his jade feline eyes as they circled each other. Link gripped the bastard sword in one hand as he rushed towards Jaime, slashing out towards his brother’s body and punching him in the face.

Jaime's head snapped back as he blocked the slash. Before Link could bring his blade up to his brother’s neck, Jaime lashed out, kicking him in the knee and making Link stumble once more.

This time Jaime didn't give him time to roll as he brought the pommel of his sword up and struck him in the head, causing stars to burst in Link’s vision. Before he could collect himself, he felt the cold bite of blunted steel and Jaime’s voice.

"Yield, brother." Jaime said, pride brimming from his voice.

"I yield," Link said before sighing. He had been so close, if only he had been a little quicker-

"Don't brood too hard, Link. If anything you should be proud, very few men have ever gotten that close to beating me, let alone a boy of your age." Jaime said, his smile softer than usual. Link only nodded as Jaime helped him up. I must be better. Someday soon, I will not be in the training yard where mistakes can be corrected with a laugh. Link thought, shuddering as he remembered his dream.

Jaime must have noticed something in his face, for his eyebrows furrowed. "What's on your mind Link?" Jaime asked, uncharacteristic concern lacing his voice.

"I was wondering, Jaime." Link began, the beginnings of a plan taking root in his mind. "How would you defeat the mountain?" Jaime blinked at the change in conversation but his green eyes grew dark with contemplation.

Link had, in his past life, fought monsters similar in size to Ser Gregor Clegane. Armoured beasts like darknuts, who wielded giant poleaxes that were taller than him, but Jaime had witnessed Clegane in battle.

"Speed." Jaime said, his face strangely stoic. "There would be no point in trying to overpower him, even for someone as strong as me. I would deal him defeat through death by a thousand cuts, going for the gaps in his armour." Jaime said in between gulps of clear water from a wineskin Link had fetched for him.

"Why do you ask, brother?" Jaime asked, eyes still hooded with memories of the past.

Link smiled. "Only curious, the men from Sarnor are said to be at least as tall as Ser Gregor. What if I were to come across them one day?" Link asked rhetorically, the picture of innocence. Jaime nodded, satisfied.

Link could remember his Uncle Gerion talking of the Sanori to him and Joy Hill, about Lomas Longstrider and his adventures across the known world. What he wouldn't give to hear Gerion tell him myths and legends once more.

It was then that Link noticed the lingering silence that choked the yard. All the men at arms and squires watched them, some with awe and others with envy. On the breeze he heard soft peals of laughter and turned his head, smiling when he noticed his niece Myrcella and nephew Tommen.

That smile turned to stone as he noticed Cersei’s poisonous glare and the handsome boy by her side. There was no denying that the Crown Prince was a handsome boy, even at eight name days it was clear that he had inherited his mother’s striking eyes and luscious hair.

The sight of Joffrey brought him back to his dream of Kings and death. Cold sweat ran down his back and ash rested in his mouth as he realised, Joffrey was the boy King who died choking. Joffrey will die of poison.

___

For the next stage of his plan, he led his red shadow to the privacy of his solar.

"Lann, I have a favour to ask of you." Link began, looking into his friend's pale eyes. Lann nodded, unperturbed.

"Anything Milord." Lann said with a reassuring smile, his eyes twinkling.

"On the day of the joust, I need you to go into the crowds of the smallfolk and protect a lady with the look of old Valyria." Link said quickly, hand drumming against his high backed chair.

Lann's brows furrowed but his reassuring, indulgent smile never faltered. "Do you mean the friend of yours from Flea Bottom?" Lann asked, his eyes twinkling with humour once more.

Link gaped. "You knew?" He asked incredulously, panic twisting knots in his stomach. If Lann knows, who else does?

Lann must have seen his panic as he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Link. Whilst you're not as sneaky as you may think, you are discreet and I made sure that the guards told no one." Lann said, dropping the formalities as he squeezed his shoulder.

Link’s racing heart slowed down slightly and he breathed a sigh of relief. If all goes to plan, I will never reveal myself at the tourney.

"As for your fair lady, I will watch her, as long as you don't get yourself killed in the tourney Milord." Lann said with a laugh. 

"Thank you Lann, I don't know what I'd do without you." Link said with a grin.

"Probably set fire to the Red Keep, Milord." Lann said with faux seriousness, before his facade broke and he laughed a deep belly laugh. Link laughed with him, happy to have Lann by his side.

___

Tobho Mott's forge was located near the top of Visenya's Hill, at the end of the Street of Steel, with the Great Sept of Baelor looming above like a giant of old.

The shop was a huge house of timber and plaster, the upper stories of the building looming over the narrow street like a storm cloud. He dismounted from his trusty steed, Epona, brushing her mane once he did so.

Lann pushed open the doors of ebony and weirwood, engraved with the scene of a great hunt. Inside, a slim serving girl waited in a cavernous room, rows of weapons of every type adorned the walls. The girl scurried off at the sight of them.

Not long after that, a man entered the room from a side door. He was broad shouldered and corded with muscle, his head was bald and a grey beard lined his jaw.

"Hello my lord, what can I do for you?" The man, who was undoubtedly Tobho Mott asked.

"I'd like to order a suit of plate for the joust, simple and unadorned. I have no doubt that this will be enough for both the armour and discretion." Link said as he offered the man a heavy pouch of gold. Tobho Mott's eyes widened once he saw the amount, but he quickly collected himself. Lannister gold has its perks.  

Mott nodded, before his eyes fell on the sword at his hip with its golden lion pommel. "I never forget one of my own makes, and that is certainly one of mine." Tobho said with his gravelly voice. He looked into the pouch of gold again before nodding. "I'll have the armour ready for you before the tourney Lord Lannister." 

Now all I need to do is win the tourney, and bring the Mountain to justice.

_____

When Link met Val that night he played his harp for her. He played a song from his past life, one that's notes were ancient and laden with the power of the dawn, of warmth and of Summer most of all.

Val danced to his song of summer and Link brooded on things to come.

 

Hello everyone! Sorry it has been so long since I last released a chapter, real life has been a pain. Dream sequences are both one of my favourite and hardest things to write. I hope you enjoyed it.

 

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Chapter 15

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

 

King’s Landing stunk.

During his years of fostering in the city, Link had grown almost accustomed to the stench of waste and fish. King’s Landing’s natural stench was never more glaring than outside the city, where a breeze of clean air would wash over him just as he inhaled another lungful of the putrid air wafting from the sprawling mess of a city.

Link’s nose wrinkled from beneath his helm as he stood among the tents on the tourney grounds. The stifling heat only seemed to make the foul smell worse. Link could feel sweat gathering on his brow as he shifted in his armour, the page that he had paid to serve as his squire for the duration of the tourney had done his job well. Too bloody well.

“Next!” A man called out wearily, tearing Link from his internal complaints. The first thought that came to mind upon seeing the bedraggled herald was how unassuming he was. Rat brown hair fell lankly to the herald’s slight shoulders. The man was of a height with Link and looked as if he might collapse at any moment, but still managed to ooze condescension from his hazel eyes.

“What is your name Ser?” The herald asked as he readied his charcoal and parchment.

“The Knight of Time.” Link boomed, his helm deepened his voice from that of a boy to a man. The herald looked up from his parchment and erupted with laughter, his face going from pasty white to a dark shade of puce as he gasped for air. Link frowned, he had thought it a good name for a mystery knight.

“Oh, and what lofty quest did you depart on, slaying the cockerel who woke you up too early?” The herald asked as he laughed again and Link reddened with shame. I have faced monsters that would make you weep, Link thought before exhaling and letting the jape go, it would not do for his plan to fail just because he couldn’t keep his temper.

The herald gazed at Link with amusement before shrugging and noting him down on the parchment. “Call yourself whatever you want, mystery knight. As long as you pay like everyone else.” The man said with a smirk. Link handed him two gold dragons and walked on.

Banners and tents of every colour surrounded Link as he walked towards the stadium, a seemingly never ending sea of heraldry. The pink maiden of Piper danced with the seahorse of Velaryon and the purple thunderbolt of Dondarrion under the occasional breeze of the stifling day. It was a forest of colour and people. To Link, it seemed as if there was a banner for every tree in the vast Kingswood that King Robert loved so much.

One particular standard made Link freeze in his stride and clench his teeth, three dogs on a field of yellow hung limply above a large tent. House Clegane, the Mountain. His lessons had ensured that he would never forget the heraldry even if Link wanted to. Rage pooled in his belly at the thought of the man, nay the monster that dwelled within. I will not rest until justice is done, raper

Lann had decried his plan as foolish and reckless when Link had told him the full extent of his plan, but Link knew that he must prevail, for all those the false knight had hurt and to see Val’s blinding, beautiful smile unburdened once more.

“I mislike you facing off against the Mountain that Rides Link, prodigy with the blade you may be. Seven Hells I mislike this whole plan of yours.” Lann had said with a considering frown on his face. Link sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he would need to get it trimmed soon.

“Gregor Clegane must be stopped, his sins cast a grim shadow over the honour of the seven kingdoms and his crimes against the innocents are infamous.” Link spat, anger churning in his gut and sweet song of righteousness ringing in his ears.

“With all due respect, m’lord, can you hear yourself speak? Vile as he is, the Mountain is one of your lord father’s most loyal bannerman. How do you think he would react if you killed one of his best weapons?” Lann said, his tone belying his exasperation. 

Link smiled, “I never said that I was going to kill him, only bring him to justice. When the tourney is won, I will deny the winner’s purse and instead petition King Robert for justice. The King, whilst uninterested in ruling, is still a just man. If I request to put Ser Gregor on trial for allegations of rape and murder he will not refuse.” Link said with triumph, yet still his loyal friend and guard frowned.

“Even if you can collect enough evidence in time, m’lord, what of your Valyrian lady? The stir of a son of Tywin Lannister crowning a smallfolk girl from Flea Bottom could put her in danger.” Lann said, his usually jovial face tense and serious.

“That is why I will not be the son of Tywin Lannister when I win the joust, just a simple mystery knight hoping for justice.” Link said with a confidence he didn’t feel, from the look on his face Lann could see through his false bravado.

“Your plan could fail.” Lann warned, though by the way the tenseness was bleeding away from his shoulders, Link knew that he was warming to the plan.

“Mayhaps,” Link allowed with a nervous smile on his sun kissed face. “But what is life without a little risk?” Link asked with a grin, Lann laughed and shook his head with amusement. Val’s worried face flashed in his mind’s eye and he instantly sobered. “Lann, if things do go awry and I am discovered, I need you to get Val out of the tourney grounds and back to the city, to somewhere safe. I can handle the vipers at court. Promise me, Lann.” Link said. He could fail at any part of his plot, from as simple as Tyrek not giving a convincing enough cover to him losing the joust in the first round, but Link couldn’t allow Val to come to harm.

“I promise Link, I will protect her as if she were mine own.” Lann said, as solemn as a crypt, before handing him a dagger with a simple leather sheath. “Please Link, take this. It’s my lucky dagger and it’d put my heart to rest if you had it with you” Link nodded and took the dagger.

His friend’s words and his knife strapped to Link’s side reassured him as the page he had hired to squire for him helped him on his trusty steed Epona for his first joust. Link nodded to Pate the page and nudged Epona into a slow walk as the herald announced his name.

“The first match of the day is between one of the King’s own seven, Ser Meryn Trant and the mysterious Knight of Time!” The herald announced with a pompous voice and whilst the crowds roared around him. He looked up to the stands where the King and his court sat; Tyrek was pale next to King Robert as he served him his wine and Jaime was troubled as he stood to the right of the King. Disappointment pooled low in his stomach as he watched his brother. It seems like I won’t face off against you today dear brother.

Link saluted the King and nodded to Trant before taking a lance from Pate the page and kicking Epona into a gallop just as he saw Ser Meryn move. Time seemed to slow around Link as the Kingsguard in his enamel white plate and golden destrier charged closer. Epona seemed to get even faster, mere inches from the rail, Ser Meryn was so close that Link could see the whites of his eyes through the man’s shining helm.

Link crouched low in his saddle, readied his shield and braced his arm for impact. Crash! Link’s ash lance exploded into a million pieces and the Kingsguard knight went flying from his saddle, his own lance only glancing off of Link’s shield.

Time slotted back into place and Link could suddenly once again hear the booming cheers of the crowd. He bowed in his saddle to the King before jumping from his horse to help Ser Meryn to his feet.

“I will need no ransom from you good Ser, well met.” Link said, his voice echoing through his helm. Link’s helmet, unlike Ser Meryn’s, was visorless with two slits for his eyes and a collection of holes to breathe through. They shook hands and saluted the King once more before going their separate ways.

As Link brushed down Epona and fed her an apple, the page he had paid to squire for him began to tell him who was next in the lists. “Ser Barristan Selmy bested Ser Monford Velaryon as you were preparing m’lord. The Bastard Knight, Walder Rivers, is against his kinsman Black Walder Frey.” Link nodded and Pate left him to his thoughts. Epona snorted as he combed her and Link smiled. A match against a Frey should be interesting, Link mused, and he had heard an odd rumour about Black Walder’s fury at court.

Link heard the crowd roar through the walls of his tent, their shouts no doubt could be heard from even the Red Keep. Link sighed as he led Epona out to the arena once more from the back of his tent. “No rest for the wicked, hey girl?” Link murmured to his horse who only snorted once more.

Link nodded to Pate as he entered the tourney grounds and the boy handed him his lance and shield. He looked to his opponent at the other end of his field and nodded. The man scowled at him with narrowed eyes, his black beard which covered a no doubt chinless face, matted and dirty underneath his half helm. The Frey’s horse whined as he dug his armoured legs too far into its flank. Link’s gauntlet tightened around his lance, there was nothing Link despised more than casual cruelty from the powerful. This Frey, Link guessed, was Black Walder and it seemed that the rumours about the man’s anger and cruelty were true.

The herald called the match and Link burst forwards on his steed with a grim determination. Link crouched low into his saddle and observed Black Walder as he charged forwards with a vicious glint in his eye. The Frey knight was leaning forwards in his saddle, letting his shield drop slightly in favour of giving his lance a slightly longer reach. Link smiled as the world went still around him. 

Black Walder’s lance struck his shield and exploded with a mighty crack before the Frey knight was launched from his saddle with a hit in the chest from Link’s lance. The crowd roared and Link saluted to King Robert, who was already drunk from what Link could tell with his red cheeks visible from behind his coarse black bear and Tyrek’s harried expression.

Link turned to Black Walder who had torn his half helm off in frustration and nearly laughed. The man’s ferret-like face was red with wrath, volatile and more dangerous than his Frey kinsmen; he mayhaps be, he was still a Frey.

“I need no ransom from you, Ser Frey. Only for you to learn kindness and treat those below you as a true knight would.” Link said, his voice booming through his helm. With his piece said, he saluted the King once more, who looked thoroughly amused, and rode from the arena.

Link left Epona outside his tent to rest as Pate hurried after him. His tent was sparse and grey, with only a stand for his armour and a nest of dry straw for bedding as furnishing.

“Your next joust won’t come for some time m’lord. Ser Celtigar will clash against Lord Yohn Royce and after that Ser Barristan The Bold will joust Lord Tytos Blackwood, the herald said. After that, Ser Beric Dondarrion is to joust against Ser Garth Greysteel, the winner of which you will go against next Ser. Then it’ll be time for the other brackets to joust, only after them will you joust m’lord.” Pate said in a rush as helped Link from his armour, his head swam with all the information but Link just shook his head with a wry smile. The boy was excited and Link didn’t want to ruin that.

“Thank you Pate, that will be all. Go on and watch the rest of the matches. Come and find me again when it is time for the next joust.” Link said, as he lay down on the bedding. Pate beamed at him before hastily bowing and running from the tent. The scent of horseflesh filled the tent as he drifted between sleep and consciousness and brought him back to a happy day, moons before.

“Why do you always name your horse Epona?” Val asked as she leaned against Link’s chest. Epona neighed beneath them whilst she trotted alongst the sand of Blackwater Bay, no doubt in response to her name. Against the inky black sky, the stars were tiny shards of light, yet they still shone brightly. The Sword of The Morning clashed against the Ice Dragon and the Warrior danced with the Stranger in a sea of darkness. Link winced as Val showed her impatience by elbowing him.

“I dreamt of her, as a child. In my dreams, I have seen beasts that would make the sternest of lords quake in their boots and marvels beyond imagining. My father named my dreams folly, but Gerion, he called it magic.” Link said, sadness weighing down his heart despite the breathtaking sight before him.

“He sounds kind, your uncle.” Link looked to the sky once more. Do you look to the sky and think of me and Joy and the Rock uncle, or are you dead already?

“He’ll come back, Link. Now enough moping, sleepyhead! Let’s see how fast we can get back to the city.”

Val’s laughter still rang in his ears even as he faced off against Ser Beric Dondarrion, eldest son to an ailing father, heir to Blackhaven. Dondarrion was a slight man, but anyone would be tall on his majestic black courser and with his red gold hair, Dondarrion could have passed as one of Link’s many Lannister kinsmen.

The smallfolk cheered and the high ladies swooned as he rode past, his confident grin as bright as the sun. Link nodded to the knight, saluted the King and focused. The cheers of the crowd, Robert’s booming laughter and the murmurs of the court melted away, all that mattered was the comforting weight of his oak shield and ash lance. The herald announced the match and then, all was still.

Ser Beric broke the peace first as he thundered forwards on his inky courser and Epona charged forwards to meet him. Link readied his lance and breathed. The sunlight danced against the Lightning Knight’s polished grey armour as his horse kicked up clouds of dirt and dust. In one moment the space between them seemed endless, a yawning chasm of doubt and anxiety. In the next, Ser Beric was upon him his lance a hairbreadth away. Link breathed as a splintering crash echoed in the air, Link’s lance exploding against Ser Beric’s chest. The heir to Blackhaven grunted as he struggled to stay ahorse, his own lance hitting solidly against Link’s shield.

The crowd roared louder than any cavalry charge as Link and Ser Beric returned to their stations and Pate handed Link a lance with an anxious smile. Link grinned through his helm and nodded at Pate, grabbing the near weightless lance from the shy boy. Link focused once more on Beric Dondarrion, the thrumming energy of the crowd around him washing away like the castles of sand he had made with Val on Blackwater Bay.

The herald announced something which Link ignored and they were off again. Where the distance between them had seemed endless to Link on the first charge, this time the distance was gone in a blink of an eye. Ser Beric’s lance evaded Link’s defence and struck him in the chest, sending a jolt of pain through him. Link grunted as he rode past, winded but unmoved. Ser Beric was not so lucky. Link’s lance had struck him directly in his stomach with a crack like lightning sending a jolting force up Link’s shoulder.

Ser Beric fell from his horse and the crowd erupted, Link looked to them and saw Val, her smile brighter and more beautiful than any star could be. Link grinned and waved back before dismounting and helping Ser Beric up. The man was of a height with Link, who was tall for his age.

Dondarrion shook his hand , graceful in his defeat. “Bravo good Ser! I haven’t had a trouncing like that since I was a boy I’d say. I’ll have my ransom ready for you in my tent after the joust.”

Link laughed, slightly embarrassed at the praise. Thank Farore for my helmet, Link thought. “Please Ser Beric, there is no need for a ransom and it was a good match.”

“We should go drinking some time, mystery knight.” Beric said with a laugh

“Mayhaps some day.” Link replied before saluting the King and bringing Epona to the fringes of the arena. Pate, as excitable as ever, sat next to him as they watched the next joust.

“M’lord, the next joust is between Ser Mandon Moore and Ser Gregor, the Mountain That Rides. This bout will decide who is in the final.” Pate said in one breath, Link sat forwards, enraptured. There he was, the source of Link’s ire and the reason Link entered the lists; Gregor Clegane.

The man was huge, near twice the size of Link with arms as thick as tree trunks. His steel plate was the thickest Link had ever seen, grey and battle worn. He seemed, to Link, more monster than man. In comparison, Mandon Moore seemed nothing more than a boy in his father’s armour. Link snorted at the irony.

Ser Mandon showed courage, that much Link could give him, as he sat tall on his golden destrier with his white enamel plate reflecting the afternoon’s sun. Despite his bravery, the knight of the Kingsguard’s efforts were futile against the monster. Moore’s aim was true and his lance exploded against Gregor’s plate but the Mountain was unmoved, his lance struck Ser Mandon with the force of a lightning bolt. Moore fell from his horse with a dull thud as his arm broke with a sick crack through his shining plate.

The crowd was silent as Ser Mandon was dragged off the field. Pate was pale as he told Link that he was to face off against Ser Barristan the Bold for the penultimate joust, his freckles seeming darker than usual. “M’lord, if you win against the Bold, then the Mountain could-”

“Don’t worry Pate, I’ll be fine. Remember, Clegane may be strong but a sword wields no strength unless the hand that holds it has courage.” Link said with a reassuring smile before mounting Epona when the herald announced his and Ser Barristan’s match. Pate handed him a lance and his shield, and nodded at Link, his face regaining a bit of colour. Link passed Ser Mandon on his way onto the field and winced at the sight of his pained ashen face on his cot, maesters surrounding him.

Across the field, on the other side of the long rail was Ser Barristan Selmy. The knight’s white cloak billowed out behind him, his stainless white plate a reflection of the legendary knight’s honour. The man was old but Link had no doubt that he was every bit as dangerous and skilled as the song’s say. Despite living in the Red Keep for the past few years, Link had had few interactions with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard but all knew of his talent.

Epona vibrated with anticipation underneath him as he waited. The herald gave the call for the joust to begin and the crowd held its breath as Link and Barristan charged towards each other. They met with a mighty crash as the smallfolk cheered, each of their lances meeting their marks and exploding in a rain of splinters.

Link nodded to Pate as he handed him another lance once he brought Epona back to his side. The herald gave the call for the second tilt to begin and Link charged once more, his focus tunnelling in on Ser Barristan. Link’s lance met Ser Barristan head on and exploded against his chest, jolting the man but still the Kingsguard knight remained ahorse.

Ser Barristan’s lance had evaded Link’s shield and struck him in the shoulder, nearly tearing Link from his saddle and ending the joust. Pain flared in Link’s side and Link grunted again. I can not lose here, not when I’m so close to justice.

Link grabbed another ash lance from Pate and calmed himself. Val’s face flashed in his mind and he steeled himself. Link would not lose here.

He crouched low in his saddle as the third tilt began. “Remember to guide your lance as you ride Link, never let it flag. Keep your shield up and if your heart is true you shall succeed.” Gerion’s whispered words from years prior came back to him. Link breathed. Crash! Ser Barristan’s lance glanced against Link’s shield as Link’s lance crashed into his middle, unhorsing the legendary knight.

The crowd cheered as Link helped Ser Barristan up after dismounting Epona. Barristan smiled at Link. “Well met Ser Time, you are welcome to keep my horse but I am afraid I will have to ransom back my armour.”

Link shook his head. “Keep your armour and horse Ser, I need no ransom. It was an honour to tilt against you.”

Barristan shook his hand. “And you, mystery knight. A word of warning mayhaps, the Mountain is not an opponent to take likely but also not as insurmountable as he may seem.”

They saluted the King and Link rode Epona back to Pate. Even after Link’s encouragement the boy was still pale, his ashy skin clashing with his dirty blonde hair and dark eyes. As he turned back to the field in which the tourney arena surrounded, Link could see why. The Mountain sat on his baying black destrier like the Stranger himself, killing the cheer in the crowd and inspiring fear to all.

Link sighed and nudged Epona towards him after Pate had given him a fresh lance. For the first time in a long time, Link prayed. The Seven who are One, Golden Goddesses of Hyrule hear me. In my past life I was the Hero of Time, gifted with your strength and power. The man I face is a monster; a defiler of women and slayer of children. So I beg of you; give me the strength to be a hero once more.

A warm wind blew through the holes of his helm and the slits for his eyes and Link smiled, knowing he had his answer.

The King stood from his chair at the top of the stands and grinned. “Warriors, today you have shown great courage. Now begin!” Robert boomed.

With that they were off, time slowed to a standstill as Link crouched low into his saddle and thought. He would only have one chance at unseating Gregor Clegane, Link knew. No matter how skilled a jouster he may be, The Mountain’s strength was infamous and seeing his joust against Ser Mandon solidified this in his mind.

The Mountain charged with a great roar as he levelled his lance at him. Link marshalled his strength and met Clegane unflinchingly. Link struck his lance against Clegane’s chest with an almighty push, foreign strength welling deep within him. The Mountain struck his lance against Link’s shield just as Link unhorsed him, sending Link toppling backwards, only managing to stay on his horse through the strength of his thighs. 

The crowd erupted with more noise than Link thought possible as Link made his way back to Pate, wincing at the mangled state of his shield. If that had been just a little to the right, Link shuddered at the thought.

One voice cut clearly through the crowd's accolades. “Sword!” Gregor roared at his squire, his great helm having come off at some point.

The herald cried out, “Ser Gregor wishes to continue in a contest of arms, do you agree, Knight of Time?” 

Link dismounted from his horse as Pate babbled about how big the Mountain was, Link cut through his panic “Pate, bring me my sword.” The boy nodded and ran to the side.

Link turned to the herald, “I do agree.” Link shrugged off his mangled shield and rolled his shoulder as Pate handed him his Qohorik forged bastard sword, its pommel wrapped in leather. 

Link looked to the stands to see Val’s eyes wide with panic and Lann deathly pale. He thought of the boy Olyvar, who had just wanted to be a knight, of Elia Martell and her poor children who had no choice and of the countless others that the monster across from him had made suffer. Justice had come for the false knight.

The Mountain roared as he charged at him with a greatsword longer than Link was tall. Link rolled under a swing that would have cleaved him in two and slashed his sword at the back of the Mountain’s knee. Gregor roared as Link’s slash hit true and whipped around faster than Link thought him capable of.

Link jumped to the side of another swing that would have split his head in two and stabbed at Gregor’s unprotected skull. The great dog brought his greatsword up, as quick as a whip to block. The force of the parry rattled Link’s teeth and made his arms tremble. Even with the lingering vestiges of Goddess given strength Link knew he wouldn’t last long in a contest of strength against the monster.

His greatest advantage against Clegane was his speed, even as fast as he was the Mountain couldn’t hope to match him. Jaime’s words from a week earlier echoed in his mind, “I would deal him defeat by death through a thousand cuts,” .

Link dodged another slash from Clegane’s monstrous blade, feinted left and then slashed underneath Clegane’s raised left arm. He grinned as the Mountain That Rides took the bait and laughed as he roared from the deep gash in his armpit, the Qohorik steel slicing through his chain mail.

“I have come to bring you to justice, False Knight.” Link said as he ducked under another of Gregor’s swings.

“You are a dead man, mystery knight!” Gregor shouted.

Link laughed as he danced around Gregor’s attacks, he felt more alive than he had in years. Through the battle haze Link could almost convince himself that he was back in Hyrule, on a quest to save tens of thousands of lives that he hadn’t already failed.

Link slashed his sword up at Gregor’s chest after ducking under another of his savage swipes, but the steel of his sword only screamed against the Mountain’s thick plate. “You murdered that boy on these grounds! All he wanted was to be a knight.” Link shouted as he rolled to the side of one of Gregor’s mighty thrusts.

“I’ve killed a lot of boys.” The Mountain shouted before swinging his blade around, almost decapitating him. Link feinted low and stabbed high, Gregor stumbled back but was unable to avoid the bite of his blade. The giant man’s cheek weeped red from a jagged slice under his left eye, even as the monster roared Link didn’t let up, evading his harried swipes whilst jabbing at his groyne, his armpits and his hands.

Link danced around The Mountain with grace, despite his own plate. Dodging and ducking under each swipe of his ugly blade, always prodding his defences. Link slid to the right of a violent thrust from the mountain and put a distance between them, evading each swipe of his blade.

He could feel sweat drip down his back from his matted hair under his helm and his limbs felt like lead. The duel seemed to stretch on forever and Link knew his exhaustion would only grow by the minute. I need to end this now.

The Mountain, by contrast, seemed to get only more wrathful and violent as the fight went on. Clegane could have been wrought from stone, other than the wounds Link had dealt him, he seemed no more exhausted now than when the fight began. Link needed to distract him. “How many Clegane?” Link shouted as he jumped out from Clegane’s reach.

“Are we fighting or not!” The man roared, barreling to meet him. Link slid away and slashed along his side, cutting through the man’s yellow surcoat once more and only leaving a scratch on the armour.

“How many innocents have you cut, butchered and raped?” Link said, as he bobbed and weaved from Clegane’s advances.

“Shut up you cunt!” He thundered as he tried to charge at Link again, only for Link to dance around him once more and strike Clegane in the head with the flat of his blade with all his might. The Mountain stumbled and Link advanced, ready to finish the duel. Clegane roared and swung his sword in a wide arc, Link jumped backwards, a hairbreadths away from being sliced open from belly to throat.

Link edged away from The Mountain, cautious of the dazed but still raging giant. “What of Elia of Dorne and her son? How many others have you cut down like them?”

SHUT UP! ” The Mountain roared, loud enough to shake the very earth and charged at him. Link focused, all that mattered was Clegane. Link slashed his sword against the ground, sending dust and dirt flying into the monster’s eyes. The man screamed as he blindly swung his greatsword and Link easily ducked away, slipping around the giant and thrusting his blade into the gap in The Mountain’s armour, behind his knee.

Clegane roared again as he collapsed onto one knee. Link slammed the flat side of his blade onto the man’s hand, making him drop his greatsword and faced him, bringing his sword to the monster’s throat. “Yield, false knight.” Link said, his voice dripping with disdain as the crown erupted louder than thunder around them.

Quicker than Link thought him possible Clegane grabbed Link’s sword in his thick armoured gauntlet and wrested it from Link’s grip, the Qohorik sword going flying behind them from the force. “I’ll show you justice you cunt!” Gregor roared as he punched Link in the ribs with his gauntleted fist.

Link gasped with pain as he felt his ribs crack and heard his armour crunch under the blow. Link stumbled, but before he could even think of getting away from his reach, the Mountain grasped Link by his gorget and slammed him into the ground. His bones rattled from the force of the impact. Gods why is he so strong?

“I killed all your precious innocents like this!” Clegane spat as he brought his hands down on Link’s helmet, squeezing it with all his strength. The crowd screamed and the King shouted as the finely made steel of his helmet started to warp and cave in under the pressure. I can’t die here! Link thought despairingly as he scrambled for purchase on anything that could help him. He struck Gregor in the face to no avail as his helmet started crumpling under his monstrous strength.

His gauntlet brushed against something by his side and Link could have cried with relief, how had he forgotten Lann’s dagger. Gregor laughed, oblivious, as Link unsheathed the dagger from his waist. The Mountain would laugh at the suffering of others no longer. Link drove the dagger through The Mountain That Rides skull with a scream of rage, driving it into the man’s brain and killing him instantly.

Link wheezed as Clegane collapsed in a boneless heap on top of him, the weight of the evil man nearly crushing him. Link kicked and squirmed out underneath Gregor Clegane as best he could in his armour before finally clawing his way out onto the grass of the tourney grounds unburdened. He may have been free of The Mountain but he still couldn’t see, his near crushed helmet obscuring any chance of vision. Link sighed in resignation and tore the helmet off with one almighty tug, it wasn’t as if his plan had gone well anyhow.

The crowd was silent as he staggered to his feet, even without a looking glass, Link knew he was a sore sight. Blood covered his right eye from a cut on his hareline that stung as the rush and terror of battle left him. His shoulder felt battered and he had broken at least a few ribs from what he could tell. He looked towards the King’s podium at the centre of the stands and he sighed at the sight that met him. Tyrek looked ready to throw up and Cersei was red with wrath. Jaime, from what Link could tell, looked as if he was both proud of Link and wanted to throttle Link, whilst Tyrion had gone an ashy white, horror clear in his mixed match eyes even from Link’s vantage. The Lord Hand seemed even older than usual, the deep lines of his face seemingly carved there, but it was the King’s expression that was most intriguing.

King Robert was laughing. Laughing! As if Link’s brush with death was the most amusing thing he had ever seen. He even stood from his throne-like chair and clapped, like Link’s fight with The Mountain That Rides was a grand show. It was Robert who broke the shocked silence that seemed to hold everyone captive. The crowd erupted, cheering and screaming his name. Clegane’s men dragged him off the field and maesters swarmed him, trying to get him off the field. Link brushed them off, despite the pain. Even if it was stupid and dangerous, Link had a promise to keep and a Queen to crown.

Link called for Pate who brought him Epona and his lance whilst also helping him on his horse. Link rode a quick victory lap around the stands, waving to the crowds and winking at Val when he passed her, who looked more angry than Link had ever seen her. That, he decided, would be a problem for the future.

Link brought Epona back around to the King’s podium and held his lance out to collect the crown of flowers. He looked up to see Cersei in a furious argument with the King. Link shifted anxiously in his saddle, pain throbbing in his ribs and slowly spreading to his back. “Let the boy have the crown for Gods’ sake woman.” Robert said. Link looked up, puzzled. Usually Cersei was so composed in public, the picture of the perfect, if disdainful, Queen. It was only in the private dinners held in the Queen’s ballroom did her veiled insults truly begin.

A page stepped forwards and placed the laurel that marked the Queen of Love and Beauty, this time being a crown of winter roses. Link noticed the King looking at the crown wistfully as the page placed it on his ash lance. Link nodded to the page and bowed to the King and Queen in his saddle, pointedly ignoring the looks Tyrion, Jaime and Tyrek were shooting at him.

He spurred Epona past the stands of nobles and back to the smallfolk, again ignoring the looks of shock from the King and his court. He nudged Epona to a stop once he reached Val and Lann. He nodded and smiled at Lann, who whilst pale looked proud. If it hadn’t been for Lann and his dagger, Link would be dead. He hopped off of Epona and whilst the jump made pain flare greater in his ribs and up his spine Link’s smile endured. He grabbed the crown off of his lance and stepped towards Val.

Val’s beauty made him more breathless than any lance could, especially in that moment. A pink blush dusted her cheeks, and despite the worried anger he could sense in her pale lilac eyes, something else was there, an emotion that Link didn’t know. He brought the crown up and reached over the wall of the stand to place upon her silky moonlight hair. 

“To you, my Queen of Love and Beauty.” Link said. Val beamed with tears in her haunting eyes and Link’s heart soared.


Grand Maester Pycelle advised bed rest to allow his broken ribs and bruised everything else to heal, but King Robert dismissed him, saying “If the boy can kill The Mountain and still get up to crown a girl he can drink some bloody wine.”

The feast itself was just as lively as any other of King Robert’s feasts. Most of the time, Link could avoid sitting at the high table, preferring to sit with Tyrek and Loras, but with Loras gone with Lord Renly to route out the new Kingswood Brotherhood and Link having won the tourney he had no choice. He sat on King Robert’s right with Cersei being to the King’s left and Joff and Cella to his right. Little Tommen was still too young for feasts and tourneys. He smiled at the thought of the happy golden babe.

As the servants brought course after course of food, Link frowned at the waste of it all no matter how glorious it tasted. They started with a thick soup of barley and venison, crusty hot bread and salads of sweetgrass, spinach and plums. Crabclaw pies followed the salad. Then came a pastry coffyn filled with pork, pine nuts and eggs. Later came sweetmeats and pigeon pie and lemon cakes frosted in sugar. The food was lovely, that Link could not deny, but the thought of the smallfolk in the poorest parts of Flea Bottom who survived off of Bowls of Brown turned Link’s stomach.

The pain in his side and head increased throughout the night and Link found himself drinking more and more summerwine to ease the pain. “Easy on the wine boy, or that girl of yours won’t be able to thank you properly tonight!” The King had laughed and Link had smiled through the pain and embarrassment. 

“What was it like?” Joff asked from his right as he bit into his lemon cake. Link swallowed down another gulp of summer wine before turning to him. Joffrey was tall for his age but not as tall as Link. His eyes were bright green, like Jaime’s and he had his mother’s golden curls. Link looked closer at the boy searching for any trace of his father or Myrcella in him before shrugging and giving up. Where Joffrey and Tommen were all their mother, little Cella was mostly her father. The only thing Cella had inherited from Cersei it seemed was her beauty, even at as young as five Myrcella was pretty.

“What was what like?” Link asked. He and Joff hadn’t interacted much, their first meeting where Link had found Joff torturing that poor pup putting a sour taste in his mouth. Maybe he had changed.

“What did it feel like to kill a man?” Joffrey asked with a vicious gleam in his eyes. Link sighed and drained his cup. Joffrey had most certainly not changed and Link’s head throbbed too much to care.

“To be honest, Joff, I felt absolutely nothing. Mayhaps a healthy dose of panic as he was trying to cave my skull in, but after. No satisfaction, no regret. Does that make me a bad man, I wonder?” Joff sighed and pouted, clearly disappointed before turning away from Link to poke and proof at his lemon cakes.

He turned to find the King looking at him, not drunkenly looking in his direction as he sometimes did, but really looking at him, as if searching for something. Had the King heard his and Joffrey’s conversation? Mayhaps he was angry that Link had turned down his offer of knighthood once the joust had truly concluded? Robert nodded and clapped a meaty hand on his shoulder, seemingly having found what he was looking for. “It makes you a warrior lad, and a better man than me.”

The King turned from him then and reached for his goblet of wine, murmuring something about Link being his son. Link shrugged, his head was pounding too much for him to care much about anything. Link looked past the King, to his sister, and found her deep in a whispered conversation with their brother Jaime. Something about how close they were and how they looked at each other set Link’s teeth on edge. From the way Lord Arryn was staring at the twins from his side of them, he had noticed it too. Link shrugged again, it was probably a twin thing, and reached for the flagon of wine to refill his cup.

Only for Tyrion to take it from him once he had it full. “I believe, sweet brother, that you have had enough.” Link gulped and ran his hand through his hair, Tyrion was probably not as happy with his antics today as King Robert was. Tyrion signalled Link to follow him after he had finished draining Link’s cup of wine and he grudgingly rose from his chair, bowed to the King and followed after Tyrion.

Tyrion led him from the Great hall and through the drawbridge of Maegor’s holdfast. Maegor’s was a keep within a keep, constructed by its namesake, Maegor the Cruel. Most rooms had no windows, nevermind balconies, as Maegor had designed the Keep within a Keep to be the most secure place in the castle, except from the North facing rooms. Link had one such room.

Once Link had closed the door to his chambers, his brother rounded on him. “What you did today was a very foolish thing, no matter how righteous it may have been. Clegane, no matter his evil deeds, was a tool of our house, a tool which you have destroyed.”

Link was appalled. “No matter his usefulness, Tyrion, that man was more monster than knight. He deserved to be put down, his deeds cast a dark shadow over our house and if I am to be its Lord then by the Seven I will rule through honour not fear.” Tyrion’s face twisted at Link’s mention of him being Lord and Link winced, that had always been a sore subject with Tyrion no matter how much he had begged his father to make him heir.

Tyrion’s face softened. “You could have and very nearly did die, Link. What would we have done then hmm?”

Link sighed, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. “My plan wasn’t to try and duel him to death Tyrion, it was to beat him to a joust. I didn’t think he would be so brazen as to murder me in front of all those people.” Link knelt down and hugged his brother, before standing up once more and sitting by the balcony.

“I am proud of you Link, you must needs be less reckless though and not just about yourself.” Link frowned.

Tyrion sighed again. “Your smallfolk friend, Val. She is known to Cersei and the court now, and once Cersei knows, father will be sure to follow.”

“But she hasn’t done anything wrong.” Link said, panic making his head throb more.

“Let me tell you, sweet brother, of a girl I thought could do no wrong.” Tyrion said, his voice echoing ominously through the room. “The second time Jaime saw you Link, you were but a babe.” Tyrion said, his voice low, “he was given leave by the King to visit us in the Rock.” Tyrion’s gaze was so cold that it almost hurt to look at him, and as the shadows danced around his malformed face, Tyrion reminded Link painfully of their father Tywin. Gerion always said that the only time I had met Jaime was as a babe, he never mentioned a second visit.

“As we travelled along the road, Jaime and I encountered bandits on the road, troubling a young girl. Jaime slew the bandits whilst I comforted the girl. Her name was Tysha, and she was a whore.” Tyrion said harshly, his fist clenching around his goblet, cutting through Link’s thoughts. “I took her to a nearby inn, the Lion’s Head, where she told me she was the daughter of a crofter. We drank, we fucked and were wed the next morning with only the pigs as our witness.”

“You’re married?” Link choked out, shock thrumming through him.

“Not anymore.” Tyrion replied with a false smile full of poison. “We stayed at a cottage by the sea for weeks, just the two of us. Young and in love. I wasn’t much younger than you are now, a few moons mayhaps.” Link swallowed, the pain in his head and body rising with his sense of foreboding.

“What happened?” Link asked, almost too scared to ask.

“Like I said, Tysha was a whore. Jaime had paid her to make me a man. Once father found out, he brought us back to the Rock and had the marriage annulled. Father then bade every guard in the barracks to pay Tysha silver coin, then they fucked her. After they had finished, father had me fuck her, and then payed her a gold dragon, for Lannisters are worth more. Think of that the next time you visit your smallfolk girl.” With his warning said, Tyrion left his chambers, leaving Link sick to his stomach.


Link found Val waiting for him at their spot in Flea Bottom, the sight of her washed Tyrion’s horrifying warning from his mind and soothed the aches of his body. “How do you fare, my Queen?” Link called out with a grin as he climbed up on the roof. Val whipped around to face him, her beautiful face wreathed in fury. Link’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

In a blink of an eye she was in his arms, her face burrowed in his neck and her arms clutching his back. Before Link could even think of snaking his arms around her, Val tore herself from his arms and slapped him in the face. Link blinked, shocked. Of all the possible scenarios that he had mulled over he hadn’t expected that.

“What was that for?” Link asked owlishly, palming his jaw.

“I thought you were dead!” Val shouted, her ethereal face a perfect model of scathing fury, only the tears pooling in her eyes said otherwise.

“Oh, Val.” Link breathed, understanding falling upon him like a solid presence. Val reached out and gripped his red silk tunic, pulled him towards her and kissed him. Link blinked in shock before cradling her face in his hands and deepening the kiss. Her lips were soft and warm and better than anything he had dreamed of.

She broke away slowly, and looked into his eyes. To Link, Val’s eyes seemed to be pale lilac fires, always dancing with emotion, always passionate and strong and perfect. That night, they were still and content. She stepped away slowly, her face flush and a mischievous grin on her face.

“I have something for you.” Link said with a smile.

“Oh” Val asked as she toyed with her crown of flowers, “go on, Knight of Time.”

“You told me that night that you wished to be queen so you could help and house all the orphans of King’s Landing.” Val nodded, intrigued. “Well, I asked around and there’s a manse, just outside the city with a lovely view of Blackwater Bay. Usually I give the winner’s pouch to the almshouses to give out to the people who need it but I thought maybe you could have it, If you wanted. The manse may not be big enough to hold all the orphans of Flea Bottom, but it’d be a start.”

Val looked at him, shock freezing her solid, her mouth a perfect o. Link panicked when her eyes flooded with tears. Link hurried to explain, “Val, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you don’t like the thought of dragging me down, which you could never do, it’s just-”

Val interrupted him with a searing kiss. “Thank you Link, oh thank you. You really are a hero you know? Better than even that Hero of Time you love to sing sad songs about. I lo-” Val broke herself off by kissing Link again. Link pulled her close and listened to her breathing, trying, desperately to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Better than the Hero of Time? Now that’s something to boast of.” Val laughed into his chest and Link sighed into her hair. I won’t fail this kingdom, not like Hyrule. I won’t fail you Val, not like I did her. Link thought, as he squeezed her tighter.

Notes:

Hello Everyone! It has been a while sadly. The reason for that is sickness. I've been terribly sick for a long while now but I'm back into the swing of things now hopefully.

1. In the duel between Gregor and Link, Link employs some of the same tactics as Oberyn due to A. common sense and B. Gregor's condition. Gregor suffers from intense headaches and regularly uses Milk of The Poppy to even function which is crazy. This is why he reacts the way he does in regards to Link talking.
2. The twincest: Eagle eyed readers can spot implications of this near the end of the chapter and Yes Jaime and Cersei are fucking.
3. Read, Review and have a lovely summer!

Chapter Text

Chapter 16:

 

The shallow water of the chamber splashed as Link and his dark reflection duelled. God forged steel screamed against darkness given form as they danced, Link and his shadow perfectly matched.

Link twirled away from a slash of Dark Link’s blade of shadow and sunk The Blade of Evil’s Bane into the phantom’s gut. His reflection, near identical to Link, coughed, its form of darkness shifting as it collapsed into the crystalline waters of the temple. Dark Link laughed and the chambers in which they fought chilled.

“It seems that you have beaten me in this game of swords, hero.” Dark Link said, his face shifting to something paler and longer as he spoke. “I will never die by your hands, Link. You and I are one in the same. I am the darkness that lurks in your heart; your every malicious thought and wish brought to flesh.”

The hair on Link’s neck rose and trepidation swelled within him as he watched Dark Link’s transformation. His once bone white hair darkened whilst the features of his face sharpened, becoming savage and gaunt, more akin to a hungry wolf than demon prince. Link pulled The Master Sword from Dark Link’s torso with a wet squelch, inky blood steaming off of the divine blade. Link clenched his jaw and said nothing, the evil of the temple had to be overcome; Hyrule must be freed from the shackles of tyranny.

Dark Link coughed up more of the black ichor as he dragged himself up from the waters and rested his back against the corpse of the tree in the centre of the cavernous chamber. “We fought against the King of Evil and we died. Twice we bled to protect the living and twice we failed. Do you truly think this time shall be any different?” The shadow asked, his voice harsher, inhuman almost. Link tensed, his grip on The Master Sword tightening with unease. The Prince of Darkness dying before him was mad. He was the Hero of Time, heralded by the Seven Sages as the Saviour of Hyrule. Ganondorf will fall.

Dark Link closed his eyes and reached deep into the shallow waters of the chamber. From the deceptively deep water, the demon born of Link’s own darkness fished out a bronze crown of swords and placed it on his raven curls with a sigh.

The Night’s King’s eyes opened and Link’s knees buckled beneath him as the oppressive weight of the King’s starry gaze nigh on crushed him. “ Winter is coming, Link, and no hero shall stand in her way. For good or ill, I wish you luck in the terrors to come.”

Hundreds of skeletal hands sprouted from the once serene waters and grabbed at Link. He fell into the water with a shout of alarm, the hands pulling him deeper than was possible in the once shin deep water. Link thrashed in the chilling depths as the Night’s King and Dark Link laughed as one.

Rot and ash seeped into his mouth as a hand gripped his face, its chipped claws tearing ribbons of red into his face and twisting his lips apart. Gnarled hands were clapped on his forearm, around his biceps and neck as they pulled him deeper into a bed of death and bone, tearing at his flesh and drowning him in a torrent of mud and ash. The hands of death dragged him past the roots of bone white trees and ghosts long lost, their whispers burrowing into his skull, pulsing and writhing with the weight of his failures..

“I can’t get close! I’m sorry, Link!”

“The time has come to test thy courage.”

“Now you and I are true brothers.”

“Please look out for the Princess.”

“Wake up, Link, the chosen one.”

“These toys are too much for you!”

“The flow of time is always cruel.”

Link gasped as he landed on the floor with a force that rattled his bones. The dark cavern was silent, the skeletal hands had ceased their grasping and the shades of his past had deserted him. Bone white roots gathered on the walls of the cavern, reminding him of pulsing veins in the belly of some great beast.

“There was once a set path, Link.” A vaguely familiar voice said. Link turned and saw a tall man sitting on a throne of weirwood. He wore all black, like what a brother of the Night’s Watch was said to wear, his hair was as white as the roots that snaked across the walls of the cavern and his one eye was red, like the banners of House Lannister, like blood.

“Who are you?” Link asked as he got to his feet. A smile cut across the man’s pale, thin lips, twisting the blotchy wine birthmark on his face.

“You know me, Link, the histories have not yet forgotten me and I have oft visited your dreams.” Link looked at the man again and frowned, throughout all of his tutelage under the Grand Maester, and before that at Casterly Rock, there was only one man who could possibly fit his description. 

“Brynden Rivers, son of Aegon the Unworthy, the one the singers call Bloodraven.”

“I have been known by many names, the name my mother gave me when I was at her breast was Brynden, but I am now the three-eyed crow.”

Link paused, the dreams he had had since he was a child had all featured a crow with three eyes, could that have been Bloodraven? “How can you still live, Lord Brynden? You would have seen over a hundred name days.” For a moment Brynden’s young facade flickered and he was replaced by a decrepit corpse of a man, with weirwood roots and fungi sprouting from his skin.

Link blinked and Brynden was young and tall once more. “The weirwoods sustain me, and the children aid me.” Brynden continued before Link could ask about the children. What children? “As I said before, you alter the path, for good or for ill.”

“What path?” Link asked, cold fingers of worry gripping his heart.

“I am the last greenseer, and as such, I see visions of what is to come, and with the weirwoods I can see everything. ” Link swallowed, a thousand eyes and one indeed.

“But your presence clouds my vision and changes everything to come. Already, much has been altered, your actions could doom us all.”

A cold wind blew through the cavern and Link frowned. “Or I could change things for the better, why must everything be set in stone?” Brynden laughed and it chilled Link far more than the snow falling. Snow? 

“I once had a student who thought much as you did, he thought himself better than the magic that I taught him, he hungered for more, will you be the same?”

Link scowled and thought of Ganondorf as he stepped towards Brynden in the snow. “What became of him?”

Brynden touched the bone white bark of a weirwood tree and Link blinked as he looked up at the drab grey sky. How did I not notice we were on the surface? “He lives to threaten us all with his madness.” Brynden turned to Link, “you must seek out your uncle, follow his quest. It is there, in that place of darkness and doom, where you will find answers.”

Shock struck him like a thunderbolt, “Gerion, you know where Gerion is! Is he safe-”

Brynden sighed and looked around them warily, “we do not have much time Link.” It was then he heard it, the silence. He had been raised in a forest in his past life, and they were never silent. Link peered into the darkness that surrounded the weirwood grove and jumped when bright blue eyes that shone like stars stared back. There were hundreds of them, nay thousands of them. Link unsheathed the Master Sword and tensed.

“There will come a time when you must decide, Link, and not even the weirwoods know what you will choose.” Bynden grabbed his arm and Link stared into his eye of blood. “You must decide between your past and the future of us all. Winter is coming, and with it, the Corpse Queen shall rise.”

With his piece said, Brynden vanished, leaving Link to face the legion of dead alone.

Link awoke screaming.


Link smiled at Val’s gasp as they overlooked the manse from one of Blackwater Bay’s many hills. The land that the manse was situated on was a part of the King’s own demesne, stewarded by a Lannister of Lannisport. Link’s distant kinsman had won some small acclaim in the siege of Harlaw during the Greyjoy’s Rebellion years prior. King Robert was as open handed as Lord Tywin was grasping. Link had only needed to give a chunk of his tourney winnings and invoke his father’s name for the manse to be his. Link shuddered, despite the pleasant weather. Cersei had tried protesting Val's ownership of the manse to Robert during a dinner not long after the tourney. The memory of the private banquet caused Link’s lips to curl in distaste.

The banquet was held in the Queen’s Ballroom, a hall that could only hold a hundred people; small in comparison to the cavernous halls of Casterly Rock or the Throne Room in the wider Keep. Despite its smaller size, as with everything in Maegor’s Holdfast, it was lavish to the extreme. The walls were panelled in richly carved wood depicting stags and lions of gilded gold prancing in a field. The wall sconces were backed with silver mirrors, making the torches burn twice as bright and bathing the hall in silvery light.

They sat upon the dais on a long oaken table made all the bigger by its emptiness. Bards performed ‘The Cub That Felled The Mountain’ in the gallery, a jaunty and upbeat retelling of Link’s duel with Gregor Clegane and his supposed tragic love story with his Queen of Love and Beauty, Val. The song had proved a quick favourite of both King and court, with patrons of the many taverns of the city singing the damned song late into the night, according to Tyrion. It was a song that he and Cersei were united in their displeasure of. The silly song was closer to fantasy than truth. But it seemed the bards of King’s Landing cared naught for his feelings on the matter.

“So, ‘Earthshaker’, have you spent the winner’s purse yet? If I had won that at your age I’d be half way through fucking all of the whores in the Vale!” The King said with a snort, his cheeks already ruby red through his bushy beard. Link sighed internally, ever since the tourney King Robert had warmed to him, treating him as if he were an old friend rather than another irritating Lannister. Whilst King Robert had, in a way, almost respected Link for his ability as a swordsman he had always held a distaste for Link, no doubt for sharing the same jade eyes and hair spun like gold as his beloved Lady Wife. The King’s new epithet for Link was just one of many instances which showed the King’s improved opinion of Link.

“I plan to give most of it to the smallfolk of Flea Bottom, Your Grace.” Link replied, before he hesitated and smiled wryly. “Even if I were to give every person in Flea Bottom a silver stag, I’d still have gold left over, Your Grace.” Tommen babbled what could have been a laugh and Myrcella giggled at his weak jape. Link grinned and winked at them both, he doubted Tommen even understood his words, but the sight of his niece and nephew’s smiles warmed his heart. How Joffrey was so cruel whilst Myrcella and Tommen were so sweet baffled Link.

“You sound like Jon! He always nagged like an old fishwife at me as a boy in the Vale to spend less and give more. He still does it, even if I’m the bloody King.” Robert grumbled goodnaturedly. Myrcella looked up from her bowl of sweet fruits and frowned at Link, her stormy blue eyes, the mirror of her father’s, narrowing.

“What will you spend the rest on, Uncle?” Myrcella asked, with all the eloquence and stoicism a girl of five name days could muster. Robert roared with laughter at the inquisitive girl, spilling some of his wine down his fine black and gold doublet. Link smiled, even as he internally begged the Gods for an opportunity to flee from the hall. Myrcella was an intelligent girl. In one moment she was beaming and full of childish wonder, and in the next she was as stoic and dutiful as Stannis Baratheon. The princess reminded Link of himself as a child, he could only pray that her dreams and thoughts were not as burdened as his were and still are.

“She has you there boy!” Robert said between gulps of wine after Link had poured him another goblet. He looked around the opulent ballroom, Tyrion’s horrifying warning echoing in his ears. Jamie and Ser Barristan were still like the waters of the Blackwater and could have been carved from marble for all their expressions revealed as they stood by the entrance to the hall, Tommen was half asleep in his sweetmeats, Joffrey glared enviously at Link and Cersei merely looked bored.

“I plan to buy a manse, a half hour ride from the city, Your Grace. It’s not as big as a tower or a small holdfast but not so small as a cottage either.” Link said, vainly hoping that the line of inquiry would end there. Why did Tyrion have to choose tonight of all nights to go whoring? Cersei seized her chance to strike.

“Surely not for you, sweet brother! Are your apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast not adequate? Perhaps some larger chambers in the Maiden Vault would be more to your liking?” The Queen asked with a serene smile, her voice dripping with false concern. His heart sunk deep in his stomach, like a stone in water, and the lemon water he sipped on turned to ash in his mouth. You should have been a mummer, Cersei.

“The manse is not for me, but for the children of King’s Landing. It’s to be an orphanage.” Link said as he speared the pear on his plate with more force than was necessary. Her golden brow furrowed and she pursed her scarlet lips, looking for all the world a concerned sister. It was only the malice swimming in her jade eyes that betrayed her true thoughts.

“How good of you to help those that are below you, Link. With your duties to my beloved and your lessons with Grand maester Pycelle, it can’t possibly be you who runs this orphanage, you're simply too busy! Even if you did, you’re a Lannister.” Cersei said with a winning smile as Robert grunted in agreement behind his wine cup. The cruelty behind her courtesies churned Link’s gut, as if being born of noble blood meant you were above helping others. Give him a sword and he could defeat any foe, but in a battle of words he was useless.

“I have someone I wholeheartedly trust in mind, I have no doubt that they are capable.” Link said vaguely, praying for that to be enough. Cersei’s laugh cut through his hopes like a knife did butter.

“And who is this mysterious person of trust? That guard of yours? Or perhaps your precious Queen of Love and Beauty?” Cersei asked, her green eyes glittering in the silver light of the ballroom. Link’s terse nod was enough for a sharp smile to cut across her face. Cersei’s true smile, that of a lioness; cruel and triumphant.

“And what’s your smallfolk girl called then eh boy? When I was a lad, Ned and I would dance with a few common girls.” Robert asked, his eyes misty from drink and memories of days long passed. Desperation welled up within Link, Tyrion had been right, Link was a fool. Gerion would have laughed and spun a bawdy tale and Tyrion would beat Cersei at her own game with lies and cunning. But Tyrion wasn’t here and Gerion had been lost for years.

“Val. Her name is Val.” Link choked out through clenched teeth as he dropped his mangled silverware to the table. Cersei was glowing with satisfaction, whilst King Robert leaned forward, intrigued.

“Val? That’s a Northern name is it not?” Robert asked.

“The septa who raised Val named her. It’s short for the High Valyrian word Valonqar, meaning-” Link was interrupted by the sound of Cersei’s crystal goblet smashing against the floor. The Queen’s face was pale with fury and her hand trembled as servants rushed to clean the mess.

“My love, Link’s thoughts are sweet, but it is irresponsible to allow a young girl, especially one to be fooled by tourneys and mystery knight’s, to run such an institution outside the supervision of the city watch.” Cersei said, her voice cold and barren of the false warmth it had held earlier. Link knuckles popped and bones creaked as white hot fury lanced through him. What he felt for her was not some deception. How dare she insinuate that he would ever lie to Val, especially about something such as that! But you already have, an insidious voice whispered in his mind and his righteous fury faltered as his death against Ganondorf and Zelda’s screams consumed his thoughts. He was no Hero.

“Your Grace, Val would not be alone. The septa who raised her would aid her, she has experience in running orphanages and almshouses across King’s Landing. You need not worry about lack of protection either, sweet sister. I have hired the most reliable sellswords I could find, along with a number of retired red cloaks to watch over them when I am unable.” Link said hurriedly to the King, before turning and glaring at Cersei with all the hatred and warning he could muster. Val is protected!

Robert waved his hand dismissively and said, “bah! Let the boy have his bloody manse woman. What difference does it make?” With that, the matter was closed. Once Robert had his mind set on something it was nigh on impossible to dissuade him. Link and Tyrek had witnessed Lord Jon Arryn’s attempts at persuading the King to not proceed with his hunt after word had still not been heard from Lord Renly whether or not the Kingswood Brotherhood had been slain. “Seven Hells!” Robert swore. “If Renly can’t kill some outlaws with two hundred men, I’ll do it myself!”

Cersei’s poisonous glare promised retribution as she excused herself and gathered her royal children. Link looked on with longing as the King called for another rendition of ‘The Cub Who Felled The Mountain’. He would rather trade a thousand veiled insults with his sweet sister than have to explain and embellish his duel and lucky defeat of Gregor Clegane to the King for the sixth time that evening.

Val’s voice cut him from his troubled musings.

Link turned to face her, unsurprised that she seemed to glow in the dim moonlight reflected across the glass panes down at them. Something about her radiated goodness and a purity that one such as he could never deserve. Part of him figured it was her dragon blood, those great and terrible kings woven into her very being. The rest of him wondered if it was just her. His hands trembled as he looked away from her otherworldly beauty. His hands dripped with the blood of those he had failed, of a broken kingdom and its Princess. He was not worthy of her. I am not worthy of anything.

"And there you go again, Link." Val said, breaking the serenity of the moment. "Sometimes, you manage to look a thousand years old, Link, and ever so sad. Where do you go?"

Link thought of Hyrule, of the once endless plains of green blackened with ash, of his friends, of his Princess, and his heart ached with the grief of a thousand men. "Home." He answered, wistfully.

"What was it like to grow up in? I remember when I was a girl, Jeyne would tell me that it was a mountain made of gold."

"It was… cold." Link said with a frown. "A behemoth worthy of the songs, opulent to the extreme, worthy of House Lannister, but for me? I found it cold."

Link let out a laugh, short and bitter. "Look at me, complaining. I have no right, not when people, good people, have to live on bowls o’ brown in every corner of this kingdom and my father is the richest Lord in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Bowls o' brown aren't so bad. I seem to remember one poorly disguised highborn eating his in one go." Val said with a teasing grin before she sobered. "Link, you could be the richest man in the world and it would all be for naught without being loved." She said as she grasped his hand.

Link let out a wet chuckle as he squeezed her hand in return. "Oh but Val, I was loved. Tyrion would play with me as a babe and it was my aunt Genna who tried to comfort me after a night terror, and Gerion. Well, Gerion loved me in all the ways my Father does not. The Rock was full with ambitious kin and terrified Lords, but it was also full with a family who loved me."

Link sighed and lifted her pale hand, calloused from hardship and grit in a way no lady's ever could be, and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. "And yet, I was haunted by visions and terrors beyond which I could handle. It darkened my days and I came to dread the sweet release of rest. It's only here, in this stinking city-" Val gave a sound of affront and hit Link in the arm with a soft 'hey!'

Link laughed before he continued, "it is only here, in this city of corruption and sin, with you Val, that keeps the horrors at bay."

Val smiled a full smile at him then and it was without a doubt the most beautiful sight that Link had ever seen.

Link frowned, “the King has called for a hunt.”

Val worried her full bottom lip between her teeth. “There's been rumours of rogues in the wood.”

“It’s been nigh on a moon since Lord Renly Baratheon was sent to route out this new Kingswood Brotherhood and there has been no word of him since.” Link sighed and furrowed his brow, “The Lord Hand is worried, but the King cares not. He shall have his hunt, even if bandits and miscreants lie in wait.”

“How long will you be gone?” Val asked, worry swimming in her bright lilac eyes.

Link hummed and caught her calloused hand in his once more, “longer than a sennight, but shorter than a moon turn. If there is no word of Lord Renly by the time we return, Lord Arryn means to ride out in force.”

Her brow of moonlight furrowed, “be careful, Link. You’re not invincible.”

Link grinned, “as my Queen commands.”


 

A shadow of anxiety hung over the camp. Under their gleaming steel and the pomp and pageantry, a sense of fear and anticipation needled at the knights and Lords of the realm. They drank and they laughed and they whored, but Link knew they could feel it just as he did; they were being watched.

Ser Barristan seemed disquieted outside the King’s tent, though whether that was from the noise of Robert whoring or the thought of miscreants in the wood was any man’s guess. The King’s tent was colossal, like a giant of old swaying in the gentle breeze. The cloth of gold pavilion glittered in the sun.

Link grimaced as Robert’s booming laughter echoed from the tent. Over a hundred knights and men-at-arms had joined Robert on his hunt and each day was the same. They would move through the Kingswood at a torturously slow pace before the King would bemoan and curse the lack of game and call for the making of camp. Despite the isolation of the Kingswood, there was no lack of whores in the party. Where the King goes, wenches are sure to follow.

Link looked to the trees that surrounded them, they towered above the camp like dark slender fingers grasping the sky. The lack of game was a queer thing. Only the King was permitted to hunt in the Kingswood, and even Robert in all his love of hunting could not have chased off all of the game. The King had blamed poachers but Link was not so sure, the wood was too quiet, and from the way Ser Barristan’s gauntleted hand hovered over the pommel of his sword, he seemed to agree.

A breathy moan drifted out from the tent and Tyrek blushed as red as their house banners from where he stood besides Jaime. Link’s brother seemed uncaring with his shining gold armour and his arrogant smirk, but his jade eyes were murderous. Link felt a stab of pity for his Queenly sister then. Cersei may have been cruel, but even she did not deserve to be dishonoured in such a way.

Link glanced at Jaime, resplendent in his golden armour, tall and strong like the Warrior reborn. His mocking green eyes were dark with a wrath that betrayed his uncaring smirk. Jaime and Cersei were close, and from what Aunt Genna had told him they had been since birth. They came into the world hand in hand she had always said, brilliant and bold, the golden twins. Link frowned, he wasn’t particularly fond of his sweet sister but even Link could see the insult for what it was. He couldn’t imagine Jaime, who held Cersei so dear, would take the slight lightly.

As the sun descended from its fiefdom of sky, tension hung thick outside the tent. With every laugh and lewd sigh that escaped the pavilion, Link watched Jaime’s jaw clench with enough ferocity to make Stannis Baratheon wince. Cold fingers of dread curled around his heart as traitorous voices whispered in his ear. He killed one King, why not another?

Ser Barristan cut through the gathering tension like a dagger through cheese. “You rode well in the tourney, Lord Link.”

Link smiled, grateful for the distraction. “That is high praise from a knight of your calibre, ser. But please, my father is Lord of the West, not I. Call me Link, ser.”

Ser Barristan conceded with a nod, “it takes great skill and not a small amount of bravery to ride against knights of the realm at such an age as yours, Link”

“Ah, but you did the same once did you not, Lord Commander? You were years younger than my brother here is.” Jaime said, his smile cutting. There was not a boy in the Seven Kingdoms who did not know the tale of Ser Barristan the Bold. He had ridden in a tourney at only ten name days against the Prince of Dragonflies, who gave him his name.

Ser Barristan frowned at Jaime. “I was still a child, small and weak yet foolish enough to think I could prevail against tired and tested knights. Only Prince Duncan would joust with me that day at Blackhaven, and he unhorsed me after one pass.”

Jaime’s eyes swam with malice and mockery, seemingly intent to direct his anger over the King’s dishonour at Ser Barristan. “So not quite an earthshaker then?”

The lines across Ser Barristan’s face deepened with his frown and a shadow of pain and regret danced in his blue eyes. “Clegane was no true knight, he should have been brought to justice long ago. It was a fine thing you did, Link. Lesser men have been knighted for far less.”

Zelda’s face flashed in his mind, I am unworthy of such an honour. 

Link smiled bashfully, “I did not intend for the joust to end like that, in truth. I planned to unhorse him and ask His Grace to put Clegane on trial for his crimes.” Link sighed and shrugged, “the gods make mockeries out of the plans of men.”

“You were lucky, Link, the gods had naught to do with it.” Jaime said scornfully. Tyrion had said much the same after the tourney. If not for Lann’s dagger, the Mountain would have killed Link on that field.

Affront flashed across Ser Barristan’s face and Link interrupted before the two Kingsguard knights fought. “I did, I will ensure that my fate is not left for the gods to decide in such a way again.”

Jaime nodded and Link heard Tyrek breathe a sigh of relief as the tension dissipated once more. “Wine! More wine you shits!” King Robert shouted from the inside of the cavernous pavilion, his voice thick with drink. Link nodded to Tyrek as he offered Link a commiserating smile. The rate at which the King consumed wine was astounding, even if he was sharing the decanters with his whores. Link left in search of wine with a slight bow of the head to Jaime and Ser Barristan.

Mud squelched beneath his leather boots as he walked through the disorganised camp. In the evening light, the camp was a jolly cacophony of laughter and prideful knights imbibed with wine. The lack of game had left the knights’ minds, and with it worries of bandits lurking in the dark. Inexperienced he may have been, Lord Renly still had some two hundred men with him and against such a highly equipped force the bandit brotherhood would fall as surely as summer snow in the North. They would surely be on their way back to the city now, Link was sure, and Loras had no doubt covered himself in glory.

Despite the reassuring thought, anxiety thrummed beneath his skin and Link could not banish the feeling of wrongness.

Link arrived at the supply tent and nodded at a boy garbed in the black and gold of House Baratheon with a weary familiarity, sending the lad scampering off for a pitcher. A drunken chuckle rang to his left and Link turned to see the red priest, Thoros of Myr, sharing a wineskin with Ser Beric Dondarrion. The knight’s hair glowed bonze by the fire light and his dark eyes were laughing.

“Ah, the Earthshaker himself, come share some wine with us young mystery knight.” The warrior priest said, his cheeks as red as his garb. Link hesitated before sitting and taking the skin from Ser Beric with a grateful nod, reasoning that he could afford to indulge some as he waited for the servant and the King’s wine.

Link felt his still bruised ribs ache at the mention of the tourney as he took a long drought of the summer wine. “You fought well in the melee, Thoros of Myr, though I fear you made many a maid to swoon with fright at your flaming sword.” The bald priest laughed and took a long draught of the skin. “And you, Ser Beric, in fact I almost regret not keeping your horse, beautiful as it was.”

Ser Beric smiled kindly, “you are too kind, Lord Link. Your prowess outclassed us all that day.”

Thoros of Myr nodded, his drunken eyes sharpening. “The Mountain was more monster than man, the realm is better for his death and your bravery, Lord Link.”

Link smiled and shook his head, “call me Link, good men for there is no formality between friends.” The men laughed and Link rose from his seat before the dying fire as he saw the harried young page heading his way with a pitcher of Dornish red. “Duty waits for no man, slayer of monsters or not. I wish you well with your wine.” Link nodded to the men and handed the page a silver for his troubles. 

No doubt I’ll be back before long , Link thought as he hurried past drunk knights and drunker lords, the wine sloshing in the pitcher as he went. On nights like this, Robert’s lust for wine and women was insatiable.

Long shadows draped across the boisterous camp as the slender trees shrouded the sun’s dying light. The King’s golden pavilion blazed like a bonfire in the darkness, the torchlight within illuminating his way. Jaime’s face had only grown more wrathful in his absence, and so had the noises of sin within the tent, Link noted with no small amount of resignation. Tyrek offered him a commiserating smile and Ser Barristan nodded as he opened the golden tent flap to him. Into the dragon’s maw I go.

A wall of heat hit him once he entered the tent as did the sight of what laid within. Muggy air hung hot in the pavilion, Link let it wash over him as he steeled himself. You faced dragons and demons without fear, yet now you stand shivering at the thought of some whores. A voice that sounded like Tyrion whispered within his mind, oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Link shook himself from his thoughts and approached where the King lay. Three women surrounded Robert, each more beautiful than the last. One shapely woman with hair as dark as any Baratheon draped herself across the King, laughing and squealing in his lap. Another lay to the right of the King on his great oaken featherbed, murmuring sultry promises. But it was the courtesan that lounged upon a padded velvet couch that was truly beautiful. Her hair of liquid dawn fell in gentle waves against her small, pale breasts. Her skin was pale and her eyes were dark like the Blackwater before daybreak. The woman licked a droplet of wine from her ruby lips, and from her smirk and the amusement swirling in her deep eyes he knew he was caught.

Danger! Leave the wine and run! Link thought as heat flushed across his face and he fumbled for a table to leave the pitcher. “Taken a fancy to Jeyne, have you, Lannister?” Link grappled with his swollen tongue for a response as he looked away from the heavy gaze of the King.

The prostitute, Jeyne, spoke before Link could, her voice throaty and languid. “It would be an honour to make Milord Lannister a man, your grace.”

Robert laughed and pulled Jeyne into his muscle bound arms. Beneath the silks and his thickening waist, a warrior remained. “No girl, you’re for me to enjoy. The boy has a lover of his own to make him a man, and has already no doubt.”

Link felt a strange burn of shame in his stomach at the thought of Val as he bowed before Robert and left the pavilion. Outside the moon hung high in the night sky and a cool wind blew at his hair. Link smiled at the moon and hummed beneath his breath.   I loved a maid as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair


 

Link woke from his pallet at the foot of King Robert’s featherbed with a burning need to relieve himself. He dressed in a pair of breeches but left his chest bare, there was no court to judge him here. He grabbed his Qohoric sword and secured it to his leather belt as he stepped over Tyrek’s sleeping form. One could never be too careful.

The camp was silent, even the liveliest of knights had long since yielded to the march of sleep. He wandered to a trickling stream and thought as he pissed. The quiet reminded him of the Hall of Heroes in the Rock, the ancient crypt for House Lannister and its heroes. His mother rested there in a golden tomb, alongside her father, Ser Jason Lannister who died to Maelys the Monstrous and his Golden Company in the Stepstones decades before he was born. It was a grim place, extravagant but sad. No camp should have reminded him of it.

Link looked upon the camp as he returned and frowned. It was too quiet, he noticed as he slowly unsheathed his blade. Even with the knights and Lords asleep, there should still be guards and sentries jesting and arguing over dice. Link’s eyes roamed across the camp with a greater sense of urgency, where are the sentries?

It was then that he noticed them, the men who clung to the shadows. A cold certainty washed over Link as he gripped his blade tight, those were no Baratheon men. It was the Brotherhood, there was no other explanation. They mean to ambush the camp and kill the King.

“TO ARMS! THE BANDITS ARE HERE, PROTECT THE KING!” Link screamed, his lungs burning. He could see the camp rousing, panic overriding revelry and he prayed for time. Time for the men to rally, time for the King to rise, time for them to live but time, it seemed, was not on his side.

The soft crunch of leaves was all that heralded their arrival and it was only his instincts that saved him from being less a head as rusted steels whistled past his ear. Link turned to see four men arrayed against him and from the sounds emanating deep within the wood, more were on their way. Link thought of the men in the camp once more, no doubt they were already beset by enemies at every turn, but if they were attacked from the rear? The chivalry of Westeros would be destroyed, and their King with them.

Link tightened his grip on his sword and thought of that ancient hall deep within Casterly Rock. If he died here, he would make sure he was worthy of such a golden tomb. Link needed to draw more of the bandits to him, to allow Robert more time, and what better way to lure an honourless man than gold?

“I am Link of House Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock and all the golden hills of the West. Face me if you dare, curs.” The bandits laughed and Link steeled himself, he would let no man past him.

“Fuck tha’,” One man snarled, his dark eyes glinting cruelly. The shadows cast over his face gave the man a fearsome look, his face bony and sharp. Paired with his filthy leathers, the rogue looked more savage than bandit. “I hear the Usurper keeps right good whores in his bed. I’d prefer to bloody my cock with them than my sword with you, boy.” Link felt a sharp drag of anger pull at his gut. These foul beasts would defile no women on his watch, whores or not. He would not allow Jeyne and her friends to be harmed by these beasts.

“Men greater than you name me Earthshaker, for, because of me, the Mountain rides no more. My brother is the deadliest knight in all of Westeros, and I will surpass him. You bandits hold no candle to the Kingslayer.” That caused a stir in the men at least, Link noted, hoping to divert more bandits his way. 

“Mycah, the Lord will wan’ the Kingslayer’s brother.” One man said, his blue eyes nervous and his brown hair greasy.

The man called Mycah shrugged, “then we take the little lion.”

Link grinned as they stepped forwards and felt time slow around them. The sweet embrace of battle stole away his worries and his dread and replaced them with euphoria. A man launched himself at Link with a roar, his rusty blade cleaving through the air. Link slipped to the side of the blow and took the man’s head with an indifferent wave of his sword, blood spurting across Link’s face and bare chest with it.

Two bandits attacked as one, meaning to overwhelm him. Link made them pay for their hubris. He parried one man’s blow with his sword, and sent the other reeling with a kick to the gut. Link feinted to the foul bandit’s left and took the man’s hand with a flash of his blade. His scream of pain pushed Link onwards as the man fell to his knees with a sob, you all meant to do this and more to sleeping men and defenceless women, you have no right to weep!

Link let the man he kicked rise, there was no honour in killing a foe with his back turned, despite however much the knave deserved it. The man slashed with his blade and Link easily sidestepped from the blow, leaving a deep slash across the man’s side for his trouble. The outlaw roared and swung his blade at him, seemingly unaware of his injury. 

Link blocked the blow with his sword and felt his teeth rattle at the force of it. The bandit’s strength was commendable, but his reliance on it would be his downfall. Link danced around the man’s heaving swings, watching weariness shackle the bandit’s movements and weaken his sword arm. The rogue slashed at Link, but he batted the blow aside before driving his sword through the man’s jaw and out through his head, parting blood, bone and brain with ease.

Link released his blade from its gory prison with a twist of his wrist. With a spurt of lifeblood the dead man collapsed to the ground in a boneless heap. May the Father judge him justly.

Link turned towards the last man, the bastard who had threatened rape and harm, and found instead ten men facing him. Mayhaps if he was armoured he could have taken them, but as he was, without even a tunic as protection, Link knew this fight was a doomed one. Moonlight glinted off of arrowheads poised to take his life and Link sighed. Even Daemon Blackfyre, who was said to have been the Warrior reborn, could not survive against the bite of Bloodraven’s arrows.

Link looked to the camp once more and saw the crowned stag of House Baratheon hefted high in the air. The Brotherhood were melting away into the forest like morning dew in the summer sun. He had done his part and it seemed that he would not join the cold quiet of the Hall of Heroes just yet. Hair of rippling silver flashed in his mind and Link smiled wanly. Jamie and the King will come for me, that is, if I do not free myself.

The bandits of the resurgent Brotherhood tensed as he sheathed his steel, no doubt waiting for some trick. Instead, Link spoke. “I yield.”


 

And that's a wrap!

It has been far too long since the last chapter I know, but this has been the most busy year of my life what with exams and will get busier before June ends, but once that is concluded, writing awaits. I've got the entirety of this story planned out and I think it's probably gonna end up at around 150k? Give or take a few thousand.

I have been going back and rewriting my earlier chapters because God they are very bad.

But tell me what you thought of the chapter, thanks for reading!

Read & Review!