Griffith had had quite a few interesting conversations with the knight and free riders that were visiting Winterfell.
They were all extremely interesting but there was one that made him nearly spit out his wine.
It had been quite some time since the feast had started and Griffith grew bored of the free riders' made up tails of glory which Jon was engrossed in.
So standing up he had moved up the table where the knight sat.
Slipping in between two men one wearing a doublet with three blue beetles on gold the sigil of house Bettley while the other wore leather tunic emblazoned with white seabirds strewn on a blue field the sigil of house Hawick.
At first, they seemed quite reserved but as the knight dragged on the knights started to loosen up.
And then when he had gotten all of them nice and drunk he asked the Bettly knight if he knew something that he might turn into a bard.
The knight's words had been slurred but Griffith had still understood the essence of what he had said.
Apparently, he wasn't the last Targaryen, there were two more, who were now living somewhere in Essos.
He was glad but at the same time, unnerved, if those two didn't accept him they definitely wouldn't let him sit on the Iron Throne.
After his short interrogation of the knight, Griffith had planned to leave when an idea formed in his mind.
Exiting the hall he took the quickest route to his room, from which he removed his lyre taking it back to the great hall.
As he entered he saw that Jon wasn't there anymore, he guessed that his brother had returned to his room, drunk most likely.
Turning to the dais on top of which the royals and his family sat.
He took a deep breath and strode forward, only stopping right before the King.
A courteous smile formed on his lips, "Your majesty," he proclaimed with bravado.
Robert Baratheon turned to him, having just been speaking to Eddard, "What is it, boy!"
Griffith's smile widened and he bowed deeply, "May I provide you with a song and a story?"
Robert laughed, "Sure, sure… if you're any good."
Eddard chuckled, "You have no need to worry Robert, he has quite the talent."
The king drank a swig of wine, "Well alright then, go ahead."
The part of the hall populated with Winterfell men cheered loudly.
"Of course, your majesty." he then straightened up and walked over to the nearest table, sat on its corner.
Griffith cleared his throat and started playing.
"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"
The crowd erupted into cheers as the song ended and some at the head table cheered with them.
He bowed at the clapping Robert Baratheon but grinned as his gaze met with the smiling princess Myrcella.
"You have quite the fabulous voice, good sir.", turning to the source of the voice Griffith's eyes met with those of Cercei Lannister.
He beamed, "I thank, your highness, for the compliment.
As a matter of fact, I have one for you as well."
She cocked an eyebrow, "Is that so?
Then do play it for us."
Griffith nodded joyfully and started playing again.
"And who are you, the proud lord said
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat
That's all the truth I know
In a coat of gold or a coat of red
A lion still has claws
And mine are long and sharp, my lord
As long and sharp as yours
And so he spoke, and so he spoke
That lord of Castamere
But now the rains weep o'er his hall
With no one there to hear
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall
And not a soul to hear
And so he spoke, and so he spoke
That lord of Castamere
But now the rains weep o'er his hall
With no one there to hear
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall
And not a soul to hear"
The cheers were slightly less enthusiastic as he finished the song but he received a nearly genuine smile from the queen and her twin.
For now, that smile had satisfied him but he wouldn't give up, he would get them to trust him and then he would break them just like they did his family.
***
I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please tell me if you see any mistakes.
Sorry for the short chapter
Then I hope you have a nice day or night depending on where you are, goodbye ;)