Gerold clenched his jaw as he walked side by side with a Prince from Kings Landing. The Prince was meant to be a Baratheon, but in all truth, the boy looked all Lannister. There was hardly any Baratheon in him. And by the Gods was he annoying.

"Are you truly going to help my little sister become the Queen?"

The Prince asked Gerold. And the question wouldn't have been that bad, if not for the fact that the boy had been pestering him practically since he first agreed to 'help' Princess Arianne Martell put Princess Marcella Baratheon on the Throne.

"Yes. I am."

Gerold nearly spat, but whether or not the cruel man means to make good on his word is yet to be decided or witnessed. Gerold's eyes narrowed as he glanced at the golden-haired Prince, his lips curving into a deep frown.

The boy was obviously older than Mrycella. He had to be, what, eighteen to twenty? It made Gerold wonder how on earth Arianne planned to put Myrcella on the Throne if this Prince was older than her.

"And.... you, are content with the knowledge that your younger sister shall be Queen rather than you, the elder brother, being King?"

Gerold snorted in bemusement, shaking his head. If Gerold had been the elder brother, he'd have certainly jumped at the chance to be King. Hells, he may have very well killed a sister of his own just to get rid of competition. How lucky that Gerold was not of royalty.