Year 295 AC, Ship Heading to Lannisport
"Ser Espada, I would have never guessed you hated the sea," a sweet, flowery voice came from a young girl on the hull of a large ship flying Tyrell colors. Leaning over the railing was a tanned young man with a curly black ponytail. He stood six feet tall, slim, with a loose white shirt embroidered in gold. He slumped over the railing like a corpse.
"A lady making jests on the sufferings of a noble and chivalrous knight such as myself is very unbecoming, my little rose," he said with arrogance, as if to say, even when sick, he remained the most beautiful man on earth.
"Ah, my knight of roses. I hate seeing you so weak. Even I could throw you over the railing and hand you your first defeat," the little girl said, cheeks rosy and a smirk on her face that reminded the knight of his first love—Lady Olenna Tyrell.
"My little rose, even in this state of illness, there lives no man who could even draw my blood," the young man replied.
As he bantered with his ward, another young man walked over. "Ah, Ser Espada, seeing you so weak truly makes me lose faith—being the first squire you knighted," said the young Loras Tyrell, another favorite of the Reach.
As Loras approached the keeled-over knight, Ser Espada reached behind him and quickly drew a hidden stiletto, tossing it at Loras's feet. Startled, the young squire froze.
"Again, you remain off guard, boy. Your sister saw you coming from across the ship. How embarrassing. I should have taken you on one of my missions and taught you to sneak around like a true knight," he said, words counterintuitive to the chivalric ideal. Yet, Ser Espada was known as Lady Olenna Tyrell's sharpest thorn. A dark secret in Highgarden whispered that every time Ser Espada left on patrol, a Hightower heir had an unfortunate accident.
Loras picked up the stiletto, drew it, and approached his knight, who now sat limply. He got uncomfortably close—though not for Ser Espada, who knew no boundaries when speaking to men or women.
Loras sheathed the stiletto into Espada's belt. "Ah, Ser Espada, your sword truly is unmatched," he said, the meaning layered.
The sickly knight rose with a scoff and smirk, now towering again. "I may be the most beautiful man on the seas and land, but my charms are directed toward the fairer sex. Now make way—prepare my armor and weapons. I see land. Today, we grace the cats and the roses with my presence."
The two nobles knew what that meant—they were to prepare to disembark.
"Ah, and Loras—make sure the needlework Lady Olenna made for me is packed separately," he added.
"Ser Espada, I know I'm your squire but..."
Before Loras could finish, his sister interrupted. "Brother, duck."
A backhand swept where Loras's face had been, but he ducked just in time—only to have his legs taken out from under him.
"Never let your guard down, boy. Words are weapons. Ask every knight I've fought—they leave hating me, but broken nonetheless. Learn to attack with words, and you will win every battle. Again, I should be training your sisters. The women in your family are truly great. At least you'll be passable once I'm done with you."
Loras smiled. The knight always talked when fighting or training, making jests about family crests, honor, or even scandalous affairs. He was crass and elegant in the same breath—a paradox.
Lannisport
Inside a carriage headed for Casterly Rock, Margaery Tyrell—still a young girl—watched the road outside. Though young, she was already on the path to becoming a brilliant schemer. She was the granddaughter of the Queen of Thorns, after all.
She looked at her guard—Ser Espada, the First Sword of the Reach. He called her "my little rose." To him, perhaps it was endearment, but to her, it felt possessive. She was being raised to be a queen, but she was not naïve. Many nobles were green hats, easily fooled.
She'd been spared the dainty teachings most noblewomen endured. Her grandmother taught her ruthlessly. And Ser Espada? Unconventional. He taught her to fight, to use a dagger, to move like an assassin. He was her practice dummy, and she knew his body well—not out of romance, but from battle. Many thought him invincible. She knew better. His body was covered in scars.
He rode beside her on a white Essosi stallion—extravagant, like everything else about him. As her grandmother would say, "To hoard money is to ask to be robbed—better to spend it." Ser Espada, though landless, was among the richest knights in Westeros. He owned a village full of orphanages and flower gardens.
She looked at her brother, beside his knight. She could see the look of a maiden in love. She knew her brother's proclivities and didn't mind.
"We have arrived, my sweet rose," Ser Espada said, his term of address reserved only for her.
She looked out at the massive, misshapen rock and the lion gates of Casterly Rock. Her brother and Ser Espada exited first.
At the gates, a Lannister guard asked, "Are you the Reach's representatives?"
"Ah yes, my lady sent me to claim the prizes your lord will offer in his tourney," Ser Espada answered.
The Westerland man sneered. "You may pass. Join the other guests."
To say Casterly Rock was a marvel would be an understatement.
A few hours later, they were received by Tywin Lannister, flanked by Ser Gregor Clegane—the Mountain. The young lady from Highgarden curtsied. Kevin Lannister and his son bowed. But Tywin's gaze was fixed.
Ser Espada had not bowed.
Tywin's face remained composed, but Ser Gregor stepped forward. "Kneel, boy. You are in the presence of Lord Tywin Lannister," he growled, hand reaching for his sword.
Without hesitation, Ser Espada laughed. "I bow to no man lesser than me—more so when their overgrown mutts dare take a tone with me."
Tywin narrowed his eyes. That was not a fool's arrogance. That was confidence.
"I hope you can back those words in the tourney," he said, turning.
Espada's response came quick. "Worry not. I hear you have two mutts. At least the other can think. I'll do you a favor, Lord of the Cats, and save you a lifetime of scorn. Ser Giant Shit, see you in the arena."
Tywin nearly stumbled. That smirk—it was not Jaime's. It was something else: dangerous.
Tywin walked away, muttering to Ser Gregor, "You will be put against him in the jousts. Take him to the sword. Kill him. And Gregor—don't disappoint me."
Kevin Lannister, left with his son, looked to the Reach's guests.
"Ser, what did you say your name was?" he asked calmly.
Espada, still watching Tywin walk away, turned to Kevin. "I am Espada Flowers."
Kevin blinked. "A bastard."
Lady Margaery's expression shifted, but Ser Espada remained poised.
"Yes, Lord Kevin. A bastard. Lady Olenna once said, 'Men and their wars.' And she was right. Every time your brother came up in conversation, she followed those words with: cunning, ruthless, rich. All I ever heard was: coward, weak, fearful. And now I see, neither she nor I were wrong.
After this tourney, they'll sing not of Castamere, but of the weeping mountain in the Lion's Keep."
His voice changed—his presence now cold and terrifying.
Kevin had been to war. He'd seen killers like Gregor. But this boy? He was something else.
"My lord, I think it would be best if we book an inn," Loras said, breaking the tension.
"Yes, my squire is right. Before I forget—my lord, I've heard of an imp. Ugly thing, they say. I wonder if I might meet the boy. You may pass on the message."
Margaery thought: He has a gift—he can rile up everyone within earshot.
Author here
i am sure you guys have been waiting on updates but have been terribly busy work medical stuff and an insatiable woman that last one was a brag but i here to say thank you for the support i wrote this months ago but i lost it and recently found it again im so i hope this buys me time on my other works all my works are pretty much back stories to what will be an original work from me an original world lore and history every mc in my current fan fics are pretty much templates to my original work so please bare with me