The following night, Arthur was taking the night shift alongside Loras. It was a dull affair, as most nights were. No one was brave enough to storm Edric's bedchamber, especially with the Kingsguard around. Nor did anyone desire to, given his popularity in Storm's End.
"That night... you just let your sister stride inside, knowing full well that His Grace was piss drunk?"
"As far as I'm concerned, she was welcome. If His Grace wanted her to leave, he could have said so, and she would have obeyed."
"Don't act so clueless, Loras." Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "If your sister was just as drunk and some lord sneaked into her bedchamber... would you say the same?"
"You should not peek your nose into matters unrelated to you, Ser Arthur."
"One of our oaths is to protect the King's name and honour. When you stepped aside, you disregarded that oath for your family's ambitions. You forget that our duty is to him first and foremost-"
"You are in no position to chastise me." Loras countered. "If His Grace saw fault in my actions, he would say so."
"As one sworn brother to another, we should hold each other accountable for our mistakes... especially in the absence of a Lord Commander."
"I would agree... if it were a mistake." Loras shook his head. "His Grace was quite insistent, I am told. Margaery had no intention of staining his honour-"
"What would a lady want inside His Grace's bedchamber in the middle of the night?" Arthur sighed. "Do you think I was born yesterday, Ser Loras?"
"Sometimes it seems so," Loras remarked. "Our duty is to protect the King and serve at his pleasure. I did not hear any sounds of displeasure or pain from him during that night; I can assure you of that much."
"You're funny." Arthur chuckled. "I suppose nothing I say will change your mind, nor am I in any position to command you."
"You've taken that long to realise that."
"I don't know how Edric plays all these games with you Tyrells without wanting to bash his head into a wall." Arthur mused, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "A part of him must find some enjoyment out of it."
"No games are being played; you can rest assured. It was not a matter of politics or ambition... but rather one of love. My sister loved him so greatly that the loss of her maidenhead was inconsequential compared to one night in his embrace."
"... Spare me the poetry." Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know how Edric is with bonds. He will do anything for those he loves. If a child comes from this one night of passion... there is no doubt in my mind that he would take great care of it. One thing could lead to another - you know precisely what I'm talking about."
"I don't." Loras acted clueless.
"Could you white-caped monkeys argue a little more? It helps me sleep." Edric spoke with a booming voice, so much so that they heard him all too clearly.
"Forgive us, Your Grace." Loras glanced at Arthur.
Before they knew it, he walked out in his night robe.
"Yap, yap, yap..." He shook his head, looking rather tired. "Arthur... Loras is right that you shouldn't stick your nose in my business. I could sleep with whoever I like, it's none of your concern."
Loras smiled slightly.
"Of course, Your Grace." Arthur lowered his head slightly.
"As for you, Knight of Flowers... on account of our friendship, your skill and my opinion of your sister - I've allowed the matter to slide and chosen to take responsibility as I most certainly played a part in it. However, if it isn't my wife, I don't want another woman strolling into my bedchamber uninvited when I am drunk ever again. Got it?"
Loras dutifully nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace."
"Alright, now you both can shut up, and I can dream away."
He patted their shoulders and returned to his bed.
"Well, that settles that," Arthur remarked.
Loras replied only with a nod, which made Arthur chuckle. He, too, remained silent as his King had ordered.
~
Edric sat in the library, reading through old books. Maester Jurne slowly entered, smiling at the sight. He approached, bowing his head when Edric looked up.
"Your Grace."
"Maester Jurne." Edric smiled slightly and nodded. "Are you looking to read up on some things yourself?"
"Indeed, that was my intention." Jurne nodded. "I did not expect to see you here, of all places, Your Grace. I recall you were far more fond of physical activities."
"I was not a King then." Edric chuckled, shaking his head. "Fate has an amusing way of weaving out our lives, doesn't it?"
"Life can be most unpredictable, of course." Jurne agreed, smiling. "Even so, I believe the crown has found its right place. You are more like your father than any other son he sired."
"I do not wish to be like my father." Edric closed shut the book, standing up. "He was a flawed King, careless in many ways. He often did what was easiest for him rather than the right thing. I... understand why he was this way, mayhaps more than anyone else. Even so, the making of a truly great man is one who does not break."
"Robert was always the warrior, hardly fit for a garden," Jurne remarked. "Even so, under him, the Realm knew many years of peace."
"And growing debt," Edric countered, chuckling. "Curse him for leaving this mess to me. Sometimes, I wish he were here. I'd like to give him a good punch to the face."
"I am sure he would've been overjoyed," Jurne said with a jestful tone, chuckling. "I'd imagine having a strong heir like you would make him proud over the moon. He would have welcomed a good fight."
"Oh, I'd give him a good fight, alright." Edric gave a look of confidence, stepping away from his seat. "Someday, some little princeling will be reading about my reign as I read about those before me. May that book be lengthy, full of great deeds and inspire him as I was inspired by great people of the past."
"I am certain it will."
Edric stepped to Jurne, towering over him. To his shock, he spread open his arms and embraced the maester. He was careful not to squeeze the life out of his bones.
"As of the present... I'll try to make use of all the lessons that you taught me, Jurne." Edric smiled slightly, patting his back. "Forgive me for being a troublesome learner at times."
"Ahaha..." Jurne laughed heartily. "It was always an honour, Your Grace. I only wish I had been able to be by your side a little longer."
"Mn..." Edric stepped back, nodding. "If I could choose a Grand Maester, it would be you. Alas... the Citadel has its own workings."
"Gormon Tyrell is an excellent maester, Your Grace. He is many times more knowledgeable than I." Jurne smiled, shaking his head. "Though I am honoured by your faith... you should not allow your heart to cloud your judgement."
"I try not to." Edric pat his shoulder. "This might be the last time I see you for several years... mayhaps even more."
"Do not trouble yourself. Your home is King's Landing now."
"My home will never change, maester. This is where I was born and raised." Edric took a deep breath and removed his hand. "I wish you well, Jurne. Take care not to choke on any food or fall down a long flight of stairs in my absence."
"I'll try my best." Jurne nodded.
"Good man."
...
"Dorrick, I got something for you."
Edric dragged along the corpse of a stag, with seven rabbits tied to it in a line. The butcher observed with a chuckle.
"Went out hunting, Your Grace?"
"Living up to my name as the one and only Ser Rabbitslayer." Edric presented his game on the table, lining them up neatly. "Consider this a gift."
"A gift?" The butcher raised an eyebrow. "That will not do, Your Grace. I shall offer a fair price-"
"I insist." Edric shook his head and smiled. "For teaching me how to skin animals, telling me what a fair price is and what isn't. Most of all, for keeping me well-fed all those years. I'd be half my size without you, no doubt."
"Very well," the butcher chuckled. "I will graciously accept your gift, Your Grace."
"Make sure the boys don't go hungry."
"Oh, they'll be feasting."
...
"Busy as usual?"
Edric entered Courtnay Penrose's study, surprising him. He looked up, almost as if he had been spooked. Afterwards, the man chuckled and got up from his seat.
"How did you get here while making so little noise, Your Grace?"
"I've been practising my sneaking."
"Fancy yourself an assassin now?"
"Mayhaps." Edric chuckled. "I wouldn't make a great one, though. I'm a bit on the heavy side."
"That goes without saying." Cortnay Penrose observed his physique. "You will soon outgrow even your father at his best, that is most certain. I feel for any man that must face you in battle."
"Yeah, I do, too." Edric nodded. "Nevermind me. How are you doing these days, Ser?"
"Well enough." Cortnay Penrose remarked. "Given that the war was quite short and decisive, the Stormlands haven't suffered much. Storm's End remains prosperous and your small village is bringing new settlers by the day."
"I asked about you, and I got a report of Storm's End." Edric chuckled. "I am well aware of these things, Cortnay. Small Council meetings are far more frequent under my reign, and Varys knows a great deal about most things."
"Nothing gets past that spider…" Cortnay remarked. "You should be wary of him, Edric. Your uncle had sentenced him to death, and I doubt that is something he will forget."
"I do not believe him to be a shortsighted man. He does not see the world through the same proud and self-serving lens that most men in his position would." Edric shook his head. "It was I who pardoned him, in the end… for I believed we had similar goals. The truth of that will come to light eventually."
"... It seems that you have grown accustomed to the court of King's Landing," Cortnay said with a rather stern expression. "It's a dangerous game to play, Your Grace. It would be better to surround yourself with men who are wholeheartedly loyal to you."
"Some risks are worth the reward." Edric countered, shaking his head. "Don't fret for me, Ser. I know how to take care of myself."
"... Is that so?" He managed a smile, looking into his deep blue eyes, which had lost their boyish, bubbly charm - replaced by an unwavering, still ocean. "I forget myself… you are not the boy who left Storm's End. War and Kingship have hardened you into a man. A strong man, indeed. There is little I could teach you now."
Edric embraced Cortnay Penrose, who smiled slightly.
"... I wanted to thank you, Ser Cortnay... for everything. You made it so that I could learn everything I needed for the future. I would not be who I am today without you."
"The honour was all mine, Your Grace. I could not have asked for a greater ward."
"You're a good man," Edric said, moving away and patting his shoulder. "I can rest easy knowing Storm's End remains in your capable hands."
"Spoken like a King." Cortnay Penrose looked with pride, nodding. "Your father would be proud."
"My father…" Edric chuckled. "If I had a father in this life, he would be you. Why do you think I grew to be as stubborn as stone?"
Cortnay laughed. "You are Robert's spitting image, Your Grace. All I did was put a bow in your hand and teach you what any knight would. Your blood did the rest."
"You are selling yourself short," Edric remarked, smiling. "I won't be here for long, you know. There will be another tourney at King's Landing and a marriage to go with it. It wouldn't look good on me if I missed a marriage in my own seat..."
"I won't keep you chained down, Your Grace."
"I wish to share a drink, man to man... before I leave." Edric tilted his head slightly. "Would you indulge me, Ser?"
"Of course."
Edric took care not to drink too much and avoided Stag's Fury like the black death, catching up with his former guardian. He learned more about Storm's End, left orders that every able-bodied boy and man would practice with the bow daily and said his farewells.
When he was done, he descended to the yard.
...
While Arya Stark was brushing up on her water-dancing skills, a rather perplexed Dickon Tarly approached. The boy hadn't seen a girl practice with a sword before, it was most strange to him.
"Girls shouldn't be practising with swords." He remarked.
Arya paused, glancing at him with a flicker of ferocity. "Who told you that?"
"It's just not normal." Dickon countered. "Boys are stronger. Besides, His Grace is the strongest warrior in the Realm. Why would you need that little sword when you're going to marry him?"
"It's none of your..." Arya recalled her conversation with Edric, pausing. She had wanted to say much worse. "It's what I like to do. You should try needlework and see how much you like it."
"It's not something boys do-"
"The only person in the Realm who can forbid Arya to train with a sword is His Grace."
Dickon turned to see Brienne, who towered over him. He feigned a smile. His father had once told him about her, and his opinion was not at all positive.
"His Grace is too accepting of some things." He remarked, turning around.
...
"Ser Davis, how goes the training?" Edric approached his old teacher. "Are any of my squires misbehaving?"
"No, they're all good lads." Davis shook his head. "It seems that they admire you deeply, obeying every instruction on your account. The Tarly boy is strong and skilled for his age. As for your two other squires... they are more experienced than even some knights. You've taken them to a number of battles, haven't you?"
"They've been in the fires of war a good bit, that much is true." Edric nodded. "What about it?"
"They fight like warriors, with a certain... fury. I don't know how to describe it precisely."
"I know what you mean." Edric smiled, crossing his arms. "They've danced with death so often that they no longer fear it. Sparring is child's play compared to that."
"I suppose you would be right, Your Grace."
"Fancy hosting one more gauntlet for me? I'm itching for a fight." Edric grinned slightly.
"Certainly... just take care not to break any bones with that warhammer."
"I won't be. On this occasion, I want to train my swordskill"
Edric proceeded to duel damn near every knight in Storm's End to first blood, from men he hardly knew to his Kingsguard. The exercise was gruelling... even for him. By the end, he was so tired he could scarcely raise his sword and was relying on Hyper-Focus to carry him. Even so, he hadn't lost a single fight - to the awe of every witness.
Until... the Hound put him down at the end of the gauntlet.
"I was beginning to think I was untouchable." Edric chuckled, observing the small cut at his side. "You brought me back down to the ground, Hound."
"Hardly something to be proud of. You're breathing like a dog who had been running his whole life, Your Grace."
"Heh..." Edric chuckled. "Aye, I need a good rest. Good work, everyone. I most definitely got my day's worth of exercise."
He said his farewells to Ser Davis and then walked over to Arya. She was practising archery now, with a smaller bow like the ones he had used in his early years. Though her pull strength wasn't particularly impressive, she had noticeable accuracy.
"Now, this is a sight," Edric remarked. "Why don't you try my goldenheart bow?"
"I wouldn't be able to pull the string," Arya countered, her expression changing as she felt drops of rain fall on her. Looking up, she frowned. "Does it always have to rain here... or did you do that on purpose?"
"Welcome to Storm's End," Edric said, spreading his arms and laughing. "And no, that wasn't me. I wouldn't be so petty..."
The rain suddenly grew in strength, pouring down on Storm's End. The wind grew heavy, too. Edric's hair swayed wildly as he watched Arya step into shelter. He remained still, taking a deep breath.
"And then you wonder why you have so few clothes," Arya remarked. "Because you're always standing in the rain like a fool. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sick yet."
"It doesn't matter whether you're angry, sorrowful, surprised, joyful or afraid; it will rain here. There's something about the rain... it's akin to a breath of life, a sense of relief." Edric raised his hand, observing the drops. "It's a calming rhythm, one that clears the mind of any other distractions and remains unchanged until the final drops. There's nothing quite so peaceful as that..."
"Suppose you'd like to stand in it all day long."
"Do you know the story behind Storm's End?" Edric asked, deflecting her remark. "In truth, it is the one I am most fond of."
"Perhaps you'd like to tell me." Arya knew a little about it, but she wanted him to speak on it.
"It all started when Durran Godsgrief won the love of Elenei, who was the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. She had given her maidenhead to him and committed herself to a mortal life as a result. Her parents would forbid the match, yet the two wed despite their disapproval. The gods would tear this land to pieces in their wrath, killing all of the Durran's guests and family on their wedding day. His keep would also be destroyed... and the only two who remained standing from the devastation were Elenei and her dear husband, who survived under her protection."
"He would wage war on the gods in his fury, and the gods would reply with more storms, hammering away at his kingdom. King Durran would build castle after castle against Shipbreaker Bay, each more fortified and stronger than the last. Each would break under the wrath of the gods... until the seventh; Storm's End."
"Talk about stubborn persistence, eh?" Edric chuckled, turning to Arya. "Mayhaps that is why I am so welcome to the rain... it's in my blood."
"I think I know why you like that story so much." Arya gave him a smile.
"Oh, do you?"
"Even when the gods forbid it, Durran remained steadfast. He didn't abandon his wife out of fear... he chose to fight. You'd do the same for someone you loved."
"Yes... that's part of it." Edric nodded. "They both made great sacrifices to be bound together. One abandoned her divinity, while the other defied the wrath of gods. The strength of their union and love could not be denied... and so, Storm's End came to be."
"You like reading about heroes, don't you?" Arya remarked with a slight smile.
"What inspires a man more than legend?" Edric replied, looking up at the sky "Like you worship Nymeria and Visenya, I admire Durran and many others for their great deeds. Even if... some might be exaggerated. Perhaps Durran never built seven castles, or Elenei wasn't the daughter of two gods. Who could ever know?"
"It might be true." Arya shrugged. "The weather in Storm's End is not normal.. nor is your magic."
"Hm..." Edric chuckled, raising his hand. Suddenly, the drops of rain waned and waned... until the final drop fell, and the wind halted to a light breeze. "Anyway, you may continue. It should be a while before it rains."
"... You should marry rain instead," Arya remarked, recalling him standing in it.
"Didn't you know?" He smiled, speaking in a jestful tone. "She is my first wife... following me wherever I go, showering my body in her sweet love whenever she can. Wind and lightning are my other two wives, the latter being the most envious and vicious of them all."
"Yeah, right." Arya chuckled.
"You should enjoy Storm's End while you can. We'll be leaving soon."
...
Edric found Asha Greyjoy sitting against the wall of a stable, drunk as could be. She had a few bruises on her, evidence of a fight from earlier. She had an axe by her side, which she had stolen.
"You are one giant mess, Asha," Edric remarked, raising an eyebrow. "I heard you got into a fight, and Cortnay was an inch away from throwing you into a cell."
"Fuck Stormlander cunts... every one of them," Asha muttered, tilting her head. "You most of all."
"I don't appreciate the fact that I let you stretch your legs, and the first thing you do is embarrass me. Must I have you on a short leash like an undisciplined hound for you to behave? Do I have to keep you locked up in some dusty cell with one little window to look at? I am willing, no doubt... but I'd like to have more faith in you as a grown woman."
Asha grasped the axe by her side and slowly raised it.
"Now, that would be unwise," Edric remarked, shaking his head. "Put it down."
"... I want to sleep..." She lowered it, closing her eyes and forcing them open again. "In a proper... bed."
She collapsed onto the ground.
"Not exactly in the position to make demands... but I'll be kind." Edric sighed, watching her wretched state. "Hound, find her a bed to sleep in."
"..." Sandor didn't look too amused by the request but followed his orders. 'Now I've got to take care of the dumb Ironborn bitch.'
...
After saying his farewells, Edric set sail to King's Landing with some added company. A handful of vigorous villagers had chosen to volunteer for his direct retinue, while several knights and stormlords sought to participate in the upcoming festivities.
With much of the Realm gathering to celebrate, King's Landing would look just as lively as it did during the Hand's Tourney...