Queenscrown Tourney - Squire's gossip

"At least that's something to be said for you." Rainier smiled mockingly.

"Anyway, sit down, boys. Take whatever you want from the table. I ordered enough to feed the every Black Brother on the wall." Jenner took a swig of beer using the hand that wasn't up a girl's skirt.

"That girl looks about Rainier's age." Dylen whispered to Cedryk. "Rainier hates when he does that."

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"And that turns out to be bad for you?" Cedryk speculated, grabbing two mugs of ale from the table and passing one to Dylen. Nowhere near as good as the wine Viserys had sent him, or even the wine he was used to at Aerion's table. But it'd warm him, and that was all he needed of it. He sighed. "Would my uncle'd allow me to compete." But Aerion had been quite adamant that he not.

"Is your family here?" He wondered to the shy boy.

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"Rainier is my cousin. His mother is my aunt, and she stayed at Casterly Rock. Someone had to." He spoke very quietly. "But my mother and father are still at the Crag. I'm not really related to him." He nodded toward Jenner, who was holding court with the other squires and Rainier.

"So a Septon, an Ironman and a Northman walk into a bar..." Jenner began with a grin.

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Only then did it occur to Cedryk how very, very strange this scene was. A grown knight, at the greatest assemply of knights in years, was sitting in a pub with his son and a bunch of squires, none of whom were any older than said son? Absurd. And a Lannister lord, too. There was a big castle under a mile away full of the greatest lords in the land, the greatest fighters, too. Why weren't Jenner and Rainier there? "Does Ser Jenner always cavort with squires and teenage girls?" Cedryk wondered to Dylan. "I mean, kind of him to feed the seething masses and all," that was scornful, "but it seems... odd." Pedophilic.

The ale had warmed him enough for his eyes to wander to a pretty barmaid, likely too old for him (he was, despite Rottiger's comments, only fifteen). But she and everyone else in all Queenscrown, save Ser Jenner, seemed quite enthralled by all the valiant knights. Cedryk wished he could have ridden in with Aerion openly. Then, maybe, pretty barmaids would notice him, if only to express their loathing.

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"Not always, but often." Dylen admitted.

"What are you two whispering about?" Rottiger asked loudly, purposely causing everyone to turn and stare.

"The Archery Competition." Dylen replied without blinking.

"Did you hear the Princess Martell is competing?" Rainier asked of the group.

"Aye," Jenner grinned, "And I wouldn't mind shooting into her bullseye."

And the table was in fits of laughter again.

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Everyone at King's Landing had gossipped over the Princess Martell's skill with a bow - even Aerion, who never complimented anyone, had noted her talent. She'd destroy Jenner, if he dared knock arrow in the archery contest. The budding knight in Cedryk wanted to leap to the defense of the (undeniably lovely) Lady, but his sense of self-preservation stayed his tongue, forced his mind to think on other things. Not that the things he wound up thinking on were much safer for his health. "I've never met at Dornishman," he noted to the assembly at large. It was, strictly speaking, true - hed never been properly introduced to any of the Dornish folk that had been at King's Landing before the Tourney. "Didn't you lot ride up with the Dornish prince? What's he like?" And how had a Snow come by that little tidbit of information? Cedryk was, it seemed, only slightly better than Aerion at travelling incognito.

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"We left ahead of the other Lannister's." Rainier said, tearing the wing off a roast chicken. "The 'Shield of Lannisport' accompanied some Dornishmen, though. I wouldn't want to go into the melee with a shield like Trystan."

"He doesn't provide much cover, does he?" Rottiger chuckled.

"And he's not forged of the sternest stuff." Rainier agreed.

"But!" Jenner interject, and looked pointedly toward the non-Lannister's present, "He is as fine a lord as reigns in Westeros and, what he lacks in might, he makes up for in wisdom." Albeit Morganna's.

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"I hear His Grace is looking for a Hand of the King," Cedryk suggested drily. He was pretty sure that the Lord of Casterly Rock had more wisdom in his young head than his two present relatives, combined. Most twelve year olds did, in his experience.

"So, Ser Jenner," Corbray chirped, sycophantic, from his seat beside the Lannister knight. "Who is it you most look forward to beating at the joust?" He was stuffing a bit of capon in his mouth and staring up at Jenner with puppy-like adoration, no doubt wishing his own lord was so generous and ribald and fun to spend time with. Not to mention famous.

Cedryk perked up, at that, and couldn't resist adding - "'Tis a pity, my Lord, that we shan't have the pleasure of seeing you square off with the Kinslayer. I'd heard you'd something of a rivalry." From said kinslayer.

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"Yes, we had." Jenner frowned, "Though we never opportuned to square off, before His Grace earned that title and quit his knightly duties for hermitage on Dragonstone."

"I'm sure you'd have won." Rainier offered.

"But the world will never know." He downed the remaining half of his ale and slammed the mug down on the table with a satisfied sigh. "Oh well. In the meantime, I'll look forward to knocking the captain of the Kingsguard off his mount. Those guys are all pent up. You've got to look out for them." His mug was refilled. "I wouldn't turn my back on one, if you know what I mean."

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Cedryk didn't. He frowned, confused, and then decided that Ser Jenner must be drunk. An eyebrow quirked, in Dylen's general direction - What in the seven-damned hells is he on about?

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"Oh," Dylen leaned in to whisper, "His Lordship resents that he cannot, as a married man, be a member of the Kingsguard, and so he is suggesting that they all bugger other men."

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"Oh." A flush rose in Cedryk's pale cheeks, part embarrassment at missing what was, in the end, a fairly obvious innuendo, and part anger that anyone would speak so of the Kingsguard. Aerion may have disdained it, but Cedryk was a proper Targaryen vassal. Moreover, a good Valyrian didn't speak of such things anyway. Westerosi barbarism never failed to amaze. He hoped Ser Alistair wiped the floor with Ser Jenner - after Aerion did so, of course. "Somehow I doubt he'd do well in the Kingsguard, in any case." Something about the teenage girl on his lap, and the fact that he was called 'Maidensbane.'

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