"Oh, yes. She's always had quite a love for it. Don't know where she gets it from, of course. I've never been good with the bow."
Alistair chuckled as he drained the last of his cups contents, a single smooth gulp.
"I've never had a hand for the craft either. Not a talent for a proper swordsman I'd wager. Fiddling with those tiny arrow shafts and fitting them on that damned string..."
Alistair paused, shaking his head as if in dismissal of the entire art of bowmanship as a passing servant arrived with fresh drinks. Once his cup was once again filled with wine he continued.
"Its too much. Give me a good, clean death any day. A longsword cuts through bone nicely. Or lance through the heart. Be over before you know it."
He said snapping his fingers as if to empathize his point. There was something about the older man that Alistair liked. Quiet and brooding sure but he had a soldiers quality to him. Not one of those preening peacocks from court or the flowery knights bogged down in vows they didn't even uphold. No, Ulfric was a soldier, a warrior. Even his lack of interest in the games endeared the man to Alistair who cared little for watching men fail at something he excelled at.
"I'm surprised to see you here rather than out on the field. Has the crown mellowed you?"
At that Jaimie chuckled sardonically. How the crown has changed him. Mellow may not have been the word Alistair had used but Ulfric was right enough except it wasn't the crown that changed him.
"Ah... If only it was. No Ulfric, it wasn't the crown that mellowed me... It was marriage."
He said with a knowing smile as he leaned on the arm rest of his chair so he may speak with Ulfric more candidly.
"The vows they make you take. I feel like I was being knighted all over again. See you and yours from Ostwall have the right of it. No need of hollow vows and promises of honor you're not going to keep some gods you don't even believe in for a swordsman to kill a man. No, we were trained to do a job and we just do it. Damn the rest. The politicians bicker and squabble and you and I will just keep on killing and eventually, they'll give us a crown."
Alistair offered the king of Ostwall his cup in toast to their united distaste of the hypocrisy of the players of this game of thrones.
"To our crowns, may their weight bend our necks. After all... It's only for life."
"Because I know you."
He replied matter of factly. Her beauty riled him up to a point where he was willing to risk getting caught. At times he didn't even care. If someone saw them he'd kill them. He'd kill a prying bread merchant, a courtier, The Hound, The damned King himself. She was his Queen and he wanted her.
"I know your right pinky always sticks up when you're drinking something. I know you're adorably ticklish, especially when I kiss your neck. I know you have a captivating habit of biting your lower lip, a habit I think I'm beginning to pick up myself."
He said, silent promises hanging heavy in his words.
"Tonight, while your husband drinks I would visit you and...
"Is that the fabled Knight of Flowers?"
Loras paused, nearly growling in frustration as the voice reached his ears. He took a slow, steadying breath and turned around to face, well look down upon The Imp Tyrion Lannister, brother of the king. The dwarf was always smarter than Loras was comfortable with. Not the sword wielding fool Alistair was. No, Tyrion was cunning therefore Tyrion was dangerous. He seemed to see everything and know things he shouldn't, having him here was troublesome to say the least. Loras had already devised several ways to ensure the imp has an accident before he had arrived in the city with his father.
"Lord Tyrion, it's an honor."
Tyrion cocked his head curiously as he looked up at Loras with a mischievous smile.
"Lord? Has my father died and no one told me?"
Ser Loras smirked at the Tyrion's sharpness. The term was meant as a slight disguised as a compliment. Everyone knew Tyrion would never inherit Casterly Rock since his father hated him so.
"A harmless courtesy merely out of respect, my lord."
"The respect is do to you good Ser, unseating the Prince of Ostwall with such ease. At least Prince Ronan fared better than that second fellow. The Mountain ran his lance through the boys neck, bloody business. One must be careful during exciting times like these. Never know when the next lance will come, eh?"
Loras listened to the dwarfs words and realized his hatred for Tyrion may very well rival the hatred he had for his brother. Loras clenched his jaw and allowed a mock smile to touch his lips as he nodded in agreement.
"Quite."
Tyrion smiled innocently walking around Loras to greet the queen with arms wide open to embrace her lovingly. Due to his small stature it looked as though she was hugging a small, gangley child.
"Darling step sister! You are as radiant as ever. The gods themselves are no doubt jealous of your beauty."
Stepping back to take in his step sister Tyrion looked up at her happily. It had always bother Loras how close Rosalie had been with him. They were good friends and Tyrion accepted her into the family instantly. He would certainly be an obstacle to overcome in the coming days.
"How I've missed you Rosie. You've spoiled me for the violin by the way, have I told you? The finest musicians in Casterly Rock are children with sticks in comparison to your skill. You must play for me while I'm here, I beg of you...
Tyrion pasued and turned around as if quite befuddled. He looked up at Loras looking rather surprised to see him.
"Are you still here? Oh, apologies. You can go."
Tyrion said casually. Loras wanted to take his head then and there. With a mock bow Loras took his leave fantasying about all the ways he could kill the little imp.